Kai shows her evidence of the destruction she caused
Everything comes back in pieces.
A voice first.
Then a hand on my shoulder.
Then the heat of someone pacing.
I open my eyes to Kai staring at me like I'm a fuse he's afraid to light.
"Aurora?" His voice is low, tight. "Don't… don't switch on me right now."
My throat feels like sand. "What happened?"
He laughs — not the funny kind. "You really don't remember?"
I push myself up. The room around us is dim, the single overhead bulb flickering. "I blacked out. That's all I know."
Kai drags his hand over his jaw. "Aria came out. Hard."
I flinch. "I didn't let her—"
"You never let her. That's the damn problem."
A beat.
I inhale slowly. "Kai… what did she do?"
He doesn't answer.
He just unlocks his phone, hands trembling a little.
"Kai." My voice cracks. "Tell me."
He shakes his head. "No. I'm not talking. You're going to see."
He steps back like he's giving me space — or bracing for what comes next.
The screen lights up in his hand, and he turns it toward me.
But he doesn't press play yet.
Instead he looks at me first. Really looks.
"Before I show you this," he says quietly, "I need you to promise you'll stay you. Not her."
"I'm here," I whisper. "I'm me."
"For how long, Aurora? Ten minutes? Thirty? Until she decides she wants the wheel again?"
"That's not fair."
"It's realistic."
Silence stretches.
Then he exhales, exhausted. "Fine. You want to know what happened? Here."
He taps the screen.
A video begins.
It's dark. The frame shakes. But the sound is clear — the crack of something heavy slamming into a wall… then another… then another.
My stomach knots. "Kai… what is that?"
"You."
The word hits harder than the sounds in the video.
I stare at the screen, breath stuck in my throat. "That's not… that can't be me."
"That's Aria," he corrects. "But she was in your body."
The video shows someone — me — shoving a metal shelf over like it weighs nothing. Glass shatters. Something catches fire. Someone screams off-camera.
My hand flies to my mouth. "No—"
"Aurora." Kai steps closer, voice steady but soft. "This is what you did before you collapsed."
"No, Kai, I wasn't awake—"
"I know. But you still did it."
I look up at him, vision blurring. "Why didn't you stop her?"
"Because she wasn't trying to hurt me." His jaw flexes. "She was trying to hurt herself. Or you. I don't even know anymore."
The room blurs around me. I shut my eyes tight.
"Kai…" My voice shakes. "I didn't mean—"
"Don't apologize to me."
His voice is suddenly rough.
"Apologize to the girl who has to wake up every day wondering what she destroyed in her sleep."
My chest caves in.
"That's still you, Aurora. And that's the part that's killing me."
The video ends with a sharp crack — the phone hitting the floor in the recording. Then darkness.
Kai lowers the phone.
I whisper, "I'm dangerous."
"No." He moves closer. "Aria's dangerous."
"She is me."
He hesitates. "She's a part of you. Not all."
I look away, but Kai catches my chin gently and makes me meet his eyes.
"That's why I'm showing you this," he says. "Because you keep acting like it's nothing. Like Aria is just… an inconvenience." His grip tightens slightly. "She's not. She's a threat."
I swallow. Hard. "So what do you want me to do? Chain myself to a wall?"
Kai doesn't smile. Not even a little.
"Maybe."
My breath stutters. "Kai—"
He steps back, tossing his phone onto the table.
"You asked for the truth," he says. "So here it is: if you can't control her, I'm going to control you."
My entire body goes still. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he answers, "I'm not letting you walk out of this room until I know she can't get out again."
My heart slams into my ribs. "Kai, you're scaring me."
"Good," he says. "Because you should be scared of what you become."
My throat tightens instantly, the words sinking into me like ice.
"Why… why would you say that?" My voice cracks, and I hate that it does.
Kai doesn't flinch. Not even a little.
"Because I'm done sugarcoating it."
"I'm not asking you to sugarcoat anything," I whisper.
"You are," he shoots back. "Every time you pretend this is something small. Something explainable. Something you can run away from if you try hard enough."
My fingers curl against my palms.
"I'm not running."
"You're trembling," he says. "You call it fear. I call it denial."
"That's not fair."
Kai steps closer, the shadows catching the sharp line of his jaw.
"Fair doesn't matter. Truth does."
I look away, but he steps to the side so I can't dodge his eyes.
"Kai, I don't even understand what you want from me—"
"I want you to stop pretending you're innocent in all of this."
My breath leaves me.
"I am innocent."
"No," he says quietly. "You're not."
My heart stutters.
"Don't do that. Don't look at me like I've hurt someone when I haven't—"
"You have."
"Kai—"
"You have."
My words die in my throat.
His jaw works like he's fighting himself, like what he wants to say is war in his mouth.
Then he turns and walks toward a metal cabinet on the wall. He types in a code—quick, practiced, the buttons clicking like a countdown.
"What is that?" I ask, voice barely above a breath.
"The evidence," he says without looking back.
"Evidence of what?"
He opens the cabinet. A cold blue light spills out.
He reaches inside and pulls something out—flat, black, rectangular.
A tablet.
My stomach drops.
"Kai… no."
"Yes." He turns it on, the screen lighting his face in harsh white. "You need to see this."
"I don't want to."
"I don't care."
I shake my head fast, instinctively stepping back.
"No. Whatever you think you saw—whatever you think I did—I didn't. I couldn't."
He lifts the tablet like a mirror he's forcing me to face.
"Aurora. Look."
"I said no."
"And I said look."
His voice isn't loud—just absolute.
I freeze.
He presses his thumb to the screen, and a video opens. Grainy. Dark. A hallway I don't recognize.
I whisper, "Kai, please—"
"Watch."
My body feels like stone, but my eyes lift.
And I see her.
Me.
Hair wild. Eyes empty.
Or—no. Not empty.
Wrong.
Wrong in a way that steals the air from my lungs.
I watch myself dragging my hand along the wall, leaving deep gouges like claws had replaced my fingers.
I watch myself stop suddenly—jerking, twitching like something inside me snapped a thread.
I watch myself turn toward the camera.
And smile.
A slow, broken, terrifying smile.
My knees buckle.
Kai steps forward instantly, catching my arm before I collapse.
"Aurora—"
"Turn it off," I choke.
"You need to finish it."
"TURN IT OFF!"
He hesitates. His grip tightens.
"Aurora—if I turn it off now, you'll keep lying to yourself."
"I'm not lying—" Tears blur the screen. "I don't remember that. I don't—Kai, I don't remember—"
"That's the problem."
He finally turns the screen away, powering it off. The room feels colder without the light.
My chest heaves, breath trembling and broken.
Kai lowers the tablet slowly, looking at me with something I can't name—anger, fear, resignation, all twisted together.
"I didn't want to show you this yet," he says quietly. "But you left me no choice."
"I didn't do that," I whisper. "That wasn't me."
"It was."
"No—"
"Aurora." He steps closer. "It was you."
I shake my head again and again, but the image won't leave my mind—the smile, the scratches, the way I moved like my bones didn't belong to me.
"I'm… I'm not a monster," I whisper.
"I never said you were."
"You're showing me videos of— of that—"
"Because pretending it didn't happen makes it worse."
Tears slip down my cheeks, hot and silent.
Kai exhales, and for the first time, the hardness in him cracks just a little.
He reaches out, thumb brushing a tear from my jaw.
"You're not a monster," he says quietly, "but something inside you is."
My breath catches.
"And until we figure out how to stop it," he says, "you don't get to walk away."
I freeze.
"…What?"
"You're not leaving this room."
"Kai—"
"Not until you accept what you are."
"I can't—"
"You will."
He steps in front of the door, blocking it with his body.
Tension coils thick in the space between us.
My pulse hammers. My vision burns.
"Kai," I whisper, "move."
"No."
"Please—"
"No."
He folds his arms slowly, expression unreadable.
I stare at him.
At the doorway he's blocking.
At the challenge sitting in his voice like a trap.
"Kai… move."
"No."
"You can't keep me here."
"I can. And I will."
"That's not— that's not your decision to make."
"It is when you're a danger to yourself."
"I'm not—"
He raises an eyebrow.
"Aurora. Don't lie to me. Not after what you just saw."
"That video wasn't me."
His jaw tightens, just barely.
"It was."
"I wasn't conscious— I wasn't awake—"
"You were something." He steps closer. "And you need to understand what that something is before you get someone killed."
I swallow hard, tears burning behind my eyes.
"That's not fair."
"What's not fair," he says calmly, "is you thinking I'm doing this because I enjoy it."
"Then stop."
"I can't."
"Kai—"
"Try," he cuts in. "Try to leave."
The words hit me like a dare.
Like he wants to see what I'll do.
Like he already knows the outcome.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
"What are you even trying to prove?" I whisper.
"That you're not ready."
"For what?"
"To face what's coming." His eyes lock onto mine. "To face yourself."
I shake my head.
"No. No, I'm done listening. I'm done letting you stand between me and the truth."
He lifts his chin slightly.
"Then come get it."
My breath catches.
He's provoking me.
On purpose.
"Kai… please."
"Aurora," he repeats, "door's right here."
He taps the metal with his knuckles—one soft, hollow sound.
I tense.
This is stupid.
He's bigger than me. Stronger. Trained. Blocking the door like a wall made of iron and stubbornness.
But something inside me… stirs.
A sharp pulse under my skin.
A pressure behind my ribs.
Like claws stretching in the dark.
I take one step toward the door.
Kai's body shifts instantly—subtle, but ready.
I stop.
He smirks, just a little.
"Thought so."
My anger flares.
"You think I'm weak."
"I think you're scared."
"Maybe I am," I say, voice shaking. "But I'm not weak."
"Prove it."
My hands curl into fists.
Every part of me wants to shove past him—just to show him I can. Just to show him I'm not the girl in the video.
But the truth sneaks up behind my anger:
I am scared.
I'm scared of the hallway.
I'm scared of the flickering lights.
I'm scared of the dragging sound behind us.
I'm scared of the way I moved in that video.
I'm scared of me.
Kai sees every emotion flicker across my face.
His voice softens—barely.
"You're not trapped," he says quietly. "You're contained. There's a difference."
"That doesn't make this less cruel."
"I'm not trying to be cruel."
He pauses. "I'm trying to keep you alive."
"And locking me in a room helps how?"
"It keeps Aria out."
I freeze.
"…Aria."
He nods once.
The name I barely understand.
The name he said in Chapter 4 when everything went black.
"Say it," he murmurs. "Say her name."
"I don't—"
"Say it."
"…Aria."
He exhales like that was the point all along.
"That thing in the hallway," he says.
"The one dragging its feet."
"The one that thudded against the wall."
"The one that's been getting closer since yesterday."
I swallow.
"Kai… what was that?"
He hesitates.
Then—
"That was her."
My stomach drops.
"No. No, you said Aria is inside me—"
"She is."
"Then how—"
"You left the door open," Kai says quietly. "Just long enough."
My breath stumbles.
"You mean… she got out?"
He nods.
The world tilts beneath me.
"Stop lying," I whisper. "Just tell me what she is."
Kai steps closer, lowering his voice.
"She's the part of you that wants to destroy everything you touch."
My legs weaken.
"That's not true," I say, but it comes out too soft.
"She's stronger than you," he continues.
"She's faster. She's brutal. She's the reason the Agency wants you dead."
I flinch.
"And if you walk out that door right now," Kai says, "she'll walk in."
My throat closes.
Silence stretches between us—heavy, suffocating.
Then he speaks again, barely above a whisper:
"You're not fighting me, Aurora."
He leans his head closer.
"You're fighting you."
My breath trembles.
"And if you lose," he adds, "there won't be anyone left to save."
My voice cracks.
"Kai… what do you want me to do?"
Finally—finally—his expression softens.
His shoulders drop.
And he steps aside.
Not enough to leave.
Just enough to give me air.
"Sit," he says gently. "And let me show you the rest."
"The rest of what?"
"The destruction you caused."
My heartbeat stutters.
"No," I whisper.
"Yes," he says. "You need to see it."
The room feels smaller.
Colder.
Like the walls themselves are waiting.
Kai reaches for the tablet again.