Briar’s POV
The eting ends exactly where it started.
Technically, we achieved alignnt.
In reality, we remain fractured.
Trust wasn’t built today.
We simply purchased more ti.
The mont adjournnt is called, I rise and head straight for the exit. No lingering conversations. No polite exchanges that could be twisted into sothing they’re not. Every second I remain gives them fresh ammunition, another opportunity to dissect my body language or interpret my silence. The whispers trail behind as I walk toward the doors, buzzing like wasps circling sothing sweet.
The courthouse steps offer no sanctuary.
The autumn air should provide relief, but instead it amplifies everything. The crowd has thickened while we were inside. Reporters clutch their microphones like weapons. Political junkies hover at the edges, pretending they’re here by accident. Their eyes brighten when they spot , questions already loaded and aid.
"Briar, what’s your response to the allegations—"
"Has the coalition fractured after today’s developnts?"
"Are the personal rumors impacting your ability to negotiate?"
I don’t slow down.
"No comnt," I state firmly, keeping my pace steady.
A young reporter jogs alongside , thrusting his microphone too close to my face. "Is your silence due to internal conflict or because the personal nature of these claims—"
I halt abruptly and et his gaze.
Not with anger. Not defensively.
With calculation.
"No comnt," I repeat, my voice carrying an edge that makes him step back.
His confidence wavers. The mont of uncertainty is all I need. The crowd parts slightly and I slip through before they can regroup.
Camp feels different when I return.
The quietness doesn’t bring comfort.
It brings scrutiny.
Not the political kind I’m used to.
The personal kind that cuts deeper.
Even these familiar walls seem to know my secrets now. The space that once felt like refuge has learned to judge. I drop my bag and stand motionless, absorbing the everyday sounds that suddenly feel foreign. Heavy boots crunching over loose stones. A cabin door slamming in the distance. Laughter that rings too sharp against the evening stillness.
Everything feels exposed. Unprotected. Like soone has shifted my entire world just slightly off its axis, enough to make dizzy.
Asher appears in the kitchen doorway while I stare into my untouched coffee.
"They talked," he observes.
No question in his voice.
Just acknowledgnt.
"They did."
"About what specifically?"
I release a slow breath. "About things that have nothing to do with them."
His dark eyes study carefully, taking in the tension I’m carrying in my shoulders, the way I’m holding myself like armor. "Are you regretting what happened between us last night?" The question cos quietly, without accusation or expectation.
He’s not fishing for reassurance. He’s offering space to be honest.
"No," I answer without hesitation.
I don’t elaborate because the truth is complicated. Because explaining would take longer than I have energy for. Because right now, explanations feel like exactly what they want from .
He accepts this, moving closer until his arm brushes mine. The contact is solid and warm, reminding my body that I exist beyond conference rooms and judgntal stares.
Later, in the privacy of my quarters, I sit on my bed and let the day wash over in pieces.
The way his eyes found mine across that table.
The pointed comnt that made everyone lean forward.
How the entire room shifted when soone decided my personal life was fair ga, my intimacy a weakness to exploit. The cold realization that nothing about gets to remain private anymore. Not even what happens behind locked doors.
Now I understand the cost.
Intimacy didn’t just intensify my leadership.
It exposed it.
And exposure becos ammunition.
I stretch out on the narrow mattress and focus on the ceiling, my breathing even, my thoughts clearer than they’ve been in days.
There’s no fear in this clarity. No sha.
Just understanding.
They’ll attempt to use it against .
They’ll suggest I’m distracted. Compromised. Vulnerable. They’ll fra intimacy as weakness, connection as corruption, love as sothing that clouds judgnt and tilts decisions.
Like they do with everything else that threatens them.
Let them co.
I close my eyes and let this truth settle deep into my bones, not as sothing to fear, but as sothing to prepare for. The battle lines have been drawn, and I know exactly where I stand.
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