After Jasper finished speaking, his eyes drifted back to Rory. His expression remained composed, carefully neutral, yet a faint tension threaded its way into his voice, as though the words he was about to say carried more weight than he cared to admit.
"Rory," he said at last, lowering his tone, "Sylas Ruan will probably come looking for you soon." He paused, watching her closely. "Do you… want to see him?"
Rory didn't hesitate, not even for a heartbeat. She shook her head, firm and decisive, the movement sharp enough to end the question outright.
"We already finalized the dissolution," she replied coolly. Her voice was flat, stripped of sentiment. "Why would I waste time meeting him now?"
Unbidden, a fleeting image crossed her mind: a tall blond man, bloodied and stubbornly upright, whom she had dragged out of danger in the dead of night. The memory flickered like a half-remembered dream, then vanished before it could settle, leaving no trace of longing behind.
