My phone lights up with another voicemail notification. My mother's number. The seventh one this week.
I play it on speaker while pulling on my jacket. Her voice fills the apartment, thick with tears. Begging me to come home. Saying they miss me. That they can fix this if I'll just give them a chance.
The message ends. I delete it without expression. My finger hovers over the screen. Something twists in my chest. Guilt tries to claw its way up but I shove it back down. They had twenty-eight years to fix things. They chose not to.
My phone buzzes again immediately. This time it's a text from June.
Can we talk?
I stare at the message for a long moment before typing back.
Your bar? Twenty minutes?
June responds instantly.
I'll be in the office.
I grab my keys. Dorian looks up from his book.
"Do you want company?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I'm going to tell her."
The book snaps shut. "No."
"She deserves to know."
"She deserves to live." He stands. "The moment you tell her, she becomes a liability."
"June would never—"
"You don't know that." His voice drops. "Humans panic. They convince themselves they're doing the right thing by exposing us."
"Lucien told me. I didn't expose anyone."
His jaw tightens. "Lucien was reckless."
"Or maybe he trusted me."
"He nearly got you killed."
I cross my arms. "At least he didn't treat me like a bomb waiting to explode."
"Because he didn't care if you did." Dorian closes the distance between us. "I've spent centuries keeping us hidden. I won't compromise it for one human."
"She's my best friend."
"Then keep her safe by keeping her ignorant."
"That's not your decision to make."
"It is when your choices affect every vampire in my territory." His eyes flash. "You tell her, and I'll have to deal with the consequences. Do you understand that?"
The implication lands cold. "You'd hurt June?"
"I'd do what's necessary to protect our kind."
I step back. "You're threatened by this."
"I'm being pragmatic."
"No." I see it now. The tightness around his eyes. "You're afraid I'll have someone else who knows. Someone else I can talk to about this. You won't be my only solace anymore."
"That's not—"
"It is." I move closer. "You want me isolated. It makes you feel secure."
His face goes hard. "Do you think I'm doing this for myself?" He grabs my shoulders. "Every vampire I've turned who told a human ended up dead or running. Every single one."
"June wouldn't tell anyone."
"You can't promise that." His grip tightens. "You can't promise she won't convince herself exposure is the moral thing to do."
I stare at him. At centuries of paranoia calcified into absolute rules.
"You're right," I say finally.
His shoulders drop. "I am?"
"You're right that I can't promise what she'll do. That telling her puts everyone at risk." I pull away from his grip. "But I’m also right that you want me isolated. Both things can be true."
"Nora—"
"I won't tell her." I grab my jacket. "But don't pretend this is just about safety. You're terrified I'll have someone else who understands."
He doesn't deny it. Just watches me walk to the door.
"I need to handle this alone," I say without looking back.
***
The bar is quiet when I arrive. Just a few regulars nursing drinks. June waves me toward the back without a word. She closes the door and doesn't waste time. Crosses her arms and looks at me with the kind of scrutiny that comes from years of friendship.
"Is Dorian hurting you?"
The question hits like a fist.
"What? No."
"Then why do you look terrified?"
"I'm not terrified."
"Don't lie to me." June steps closer.
"Yes, you are." Her voice rises. "And I've seen this before, Nora. I watched my cousin go through this with her ex."
"This isn't that."
"Then what is it?" June's hands ball into fists. "Because you moved in with a man you barely knew. Cut off everyone who cares about you."
"I'm fine."
"Stop saying that!" She slams her hand on the desk. Papers scatter. "You're lying and we both know it."
My throat tightens. I want to tell her everything. Want to explain what I am. Why everything changed.
But the words stick.
"I'm fine. I promise."
June's expression hardens. Her voice drops.
"I know you're lying."
The words hang between them like a sentence. I feel something crack in my chest. The last thread connecting me to my old life fraying under the weight of too many secrets.
"June—"
"Don't." She holds up a hand. "I've known you since we were fifteen. You think I can't tell when you're lying to me?"
"I'm not lying."
"Yes, you are. And I don't know why. I don't know what you're hiding or who you're protecting or what happened that made you like this." She turns away. Starts organizing papers on her desk just to have something to do with her hands. "But I can't watch you destroy yourself."
"I'm not destroying myself."
"Aren't you?" She spins back around. "Look at you, Nora. Really look at yourself. You're a ghost. You're disappearing right in front of me and you won't tell me why."
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
I open my mouth. Close it again.
June's voice comes out tight. "Maybe you should go. Just for a while. Until you're ready to be honest with me."
"June, please—"
"I mean it." She won't look at me. "I love you. You're my best friend. But I can't sit here and pretend everything is fine when clearly it's not."
I back toward the door. Hand on the knob. Try one more time to explain. To find a version of the truth June could accept.
But there isn't one.
"I'm sorry," I say.
June doesn't turn around.
I leave the office and walk through the bar with my eyes fixed straight ahead. Outside the cold air hits my face and I realize I'm shaking.
Not from the temperature.
From the look on June's face when she said you're lying.
From knowing she's right.