Page 57 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
I glance at him again. “If they’re really what they sound like… they’ve probably been watching for a while. Which means Bill and Steve aren’t just random agents. They’re…”
“Hunters,” Rovax finishes, his eyes going distant for half a second. “Yes. I know the type.”
There’s something in his tone — something dark, almost… familiar? Like he’s not just talking about humans anymore.
I close the laptop with a snap. “So now what? You wanted to know who they work for. Now you know. They work for peoplewho know how to find you and have the resources to make you disappear.”
His gaze cuts back to me. “And now I know their name. Which means they are no longer a faceless threat.”
“You think knowing their name makes them less dangerous?”
“I think knowing their name makes themreachable.”
I let out a sharp breath, part frustration, part disbelief. “You’re seriously still talking about going after them?”
“You said it yourself,” he says calmly. “They will not stop. You’ve seen what they are. Better to bring the fight to them than wait for them to choose the field.”
The stubbornness in his voice is like a wall. And I can’t decide if it’s infuriating or… terrifying.
“Rovax…” I start, softer now, “you’re not in Protheka anymore. This isn’t?—”
He stands, slow and deliberate, and when he speaks his voice is quieter, but sharper for it. “You think I do not know where I am? That I do not see how fragile these humans are? How easily their rules are bent?”
I flinch, not at the words but at the raw edge in them.
He exhales, some of the heat draining from him. “I do not want them near you.”
The admission is so direct it leaves me blinking. “This isn’t just about you, is it?”
His eyes find mine, steady and unblinking. “It has never been just about me.”
And that — that’s the part that scares me the most.
Because for all the danger tightening around us, for all the ways this could blow up, there’s a tiny, reckless part of me that doesn’t want to stop him.
It’s the same part that clicked “search” instead of walking away from the laptop an hour ago. The same part that lookedat the wordsAnomalous Containment Divisionand thought not justrun, butwhat if we can beat them at their own game?
God help me, I think I’m in this now.
Too deep to get out.
The air between us feels like a live wire.
Not just tense — charged.
I’m still standing by the desk, my fingers resting on the closed laptop, while Rovax lingers in the center of the room like he owns the space. Like nothing — not Bill, not Steve, not the people pulling their strings — could make him step back.
But I’m not fooled. There’s something different in the way he’s holding himself. Not just readiness. Anticipation.
It’s been building for weeks, I realize. The constant shadow of danger, the sparks of banter that kept turning into something heavier, the way we’ve both been circling each other without quite closing the distance. Now it feels like that distance is almost gone.
I cross my arms, partly to keep warm, partly to keep myself from doing something reckless — like stepping into his orbit and never leaving.
“So what?” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I mean. “We just… dive in? No plan, no backup, no?—”
“I have a plan,” he cuts in, his tone maddeningly calm.
“Of course you do,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. “You always have a plan. That’s not what I’m worried about.”
