She didn't confront him.
That would have been easy.
Clean.
Predictable.
Instead, she adjusted.
She began to sit closer.
Not abruptly.
Not enough to trigger alarm.
Just close enough that the bond noticed—a faint tightening, a whisper of tension that should have drawn a response.
It didn't.
He felt it anyway.
The absence was louder than any surge.
He kept his posture steady, gaze forward, breath measured. The restraint held, compressing power inward until it burned like a held breath that never ended.
She watched him from the corner of her eye.
Not his face.
His hands.
They were still.
Too still.
"You don't have to leave the room to pull away," she said casually, as if commenting on the weather. "You're getting efficient."
His jaw tightened.
"That's the point."
She hummed softly, then shifted again—this time close enough that her knee brushed his.
The bond twitched.
A reflex.
He crushed it instantly, forcing the response down so hard it sent a spike of pain through his chest.
He didn't react.
She felt the backlash ripple faintly through herself—a dull echo, nothing like before.
Enough to confirm it.
You're taking it all, she realized.
And that angered her more than the pain ever had.
"You're recalibrating faster than I am," she said. "Careful. The system likes asymmetry."
He turned to her then, eyes sharp.
"This isn't about the system."
"Isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Because everything you're doing would make it very comfortable."
The words hung between them.
He stood abruptly, stepping away—distance before intensity. Rule one.
The bond stretched thin, protesting softly.
She let it.
For three steps.
Then she followed.
Not chasing.
Just… refusing to stay where he'd left her.
He stopped.
Slowly.
"Don't," he said.
She halted a pace behind him.
"Don't what?"
"Test this."
Her voice was calm when she answered.
"I already am."
He turned fully now, restraint creaking under the pressure of proximity and emotion layered together. His power trembled, compressed past safe limits, veins standing out starkly along his arms.
"You think this is harmless," he said. "But if I slip—"
"You will stop," she interrupted.
He froze.
She stepped closer.
One more step and the bond flared hard enough to sting, a sharp pulse that made her breath hitch and his vision flicker.
She didn't retreat.
"You always have," she said. "Even when it hurt you. Even when it cost me."
Her eyes lifted to his, steady and unafraid.
"You're not afraid of losing control," she continued softly. "You're afraid of what it means if you don't."
The restraint cracked.
Not shattered.
Just enough.
A sharp surge of power leaked through, uncontrolled for a fraction of a second before he slammed it back into containment.
Pain exploded behind his ribs.
He staggered.
She felt it—felt the delayed echo ripple through her, a brief tightening in her chest that vanished almost as quickly as it came.
They both noticed.
Both of them went still.
"That," she said quietly, "is new."
He straightened with visible effort, breath rough, eyes dark.
"You shouldn't provoke it."
"I'm not provoking," she replied. "I'm synchronizing."
He stared at her.
"You're trying to recalibrate the bond."
"Yes."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
Then spoke the truth.
"Because if you keep doing this alone, the next time it breaks, it won't be gentle."
Silence fell again.
Not verdict-silence.
Not system-silence.
Something more dangerous.
Mutual understanding.
Above them, unseen, the world shifted its weight.
ANOMALOUS INTERACTION DETECTED.
RESTRAINT INTEGRITY: FLUCTUATING.
OBSERVATION STATUS: ELEVATED.
She reached out.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Giving him time to refuse.
He didn't move.
Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulse to pulse, grounding and disruptive all at once. The bond responded—uneven, strained, but undeniably alive.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
The first fracture had formed.
Not in the system.
Not in the bond.
But in the illusion that restraint alone could keep them safe.
And the world, watching closely, took note.