Chapter Six: Three Years Old

I didn't cry.

That surprised me. I thought I would, thought I'd collapse, scream, fall apart like people do in movies when their world implodes. But I just felt... empty. Like someone had scooped out my insides and filled the space with air.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands like they belonged to a stranger.

Three years old.

That's what they kept saying. Not six. Not old enough to remember. Not old enough to fight.

It made sense now, why my memories started so abruptly. Why my childhood felt like mismatched pieces forced together. Why faces blurred when I tried to look back too far.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, searching for something. Anything.

Nothing. No brothers. No laughter. No home.

Just darkness.

A soft knock at the door.

"If this is another life, altering revelation," I called out, "reschedule it for tomorrow."

Pause.

"I brought food," Marcus said.

I sighed. "Fine."

He came in carrying a tray. No suit this time. Just a T-shirt and dark pants. Somehow that made him more intimidating, like the polish had been stripped away and what was left was sharper.

He set the tray down gently. "You didn't eat dinner."

"I was busy spiraling."

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Understandable."

I laughed, short and unexpected. It startled both of us.

"Careful," I said. "You might actually be human."

"Don't tell Elias," he said dryly. "He has a reputation."

I picked at the food. My appetite was barely there, but I forced myself to eat.

"So... three years old."

Marcus nodded. "Three."

"And you're sure? Because someone said six earlier."

His jaw tightened. "That was wrong. We corrected it."

Good. Because if I'd been six, the fact that I didn't remember them would hurt even worse.

"If I was that young," I said quietly, "why does it still feel like something's missing?"

Marcus studied me. "Because even at three, you knew safety. You knew love. You lost more than memory. You lost your foundation."

I swallowed. "That's... not comforting."

He leaned against the wall. "You're handling this better than I expected."

"I haven't exploded yet. Give it time."

The door opened again.

Elias.

He filled the doorway like he owned it, eyes scanning me immediately, checking. Always checking.

"You're awake," he said.

"Great observation."

Marcus laughed quietly. Elias didn't.

He crossed the room, stopping a few feet away. "Lucien wants to know if you'll do the security briefing."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that code for 'more terrifying news'?"

"Yes."

"Then no."

His jaw flexed. "It's not optional."

I stood. Suddenly very aware of how close he was. I could feel his height. His heat. The faint smell of soap and something sharper underneath.

"You keep saying that," I said quietly. "But you haven't asked what I want."

His voice dropped. "What you want doesn't change what's coming."

There it was. That tension. Not romantic. Not yet. But charged. Like the air before a storm.

I tilted my head. "Then why pretend this is about choice?"

His gaze flickered. "Because I don't want you to feel trapped."

I laughed softly. "Little late for that."

Silence stretched.

Marcus cleared his throat. "I'll just... give you two some space."

He left. Fast.

Elias didn't move.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I asked.

"Because you're standing the same way you did when you were little."

My chest tightened. "How?"

"Like you're bracing for impact."

I looked away. The weight of his memory pressed against my lack of one.

"I don't remember you, Elias."

"I know."

"Does that hurt?"

He hesitated. Then nodded. "Yes."

The honesty hit me harder than I expected.

I met his eyes. "Then don't look at me like I'm fragile."

Something dark flashed across his face. "You're not."

"Good. Because I refuse to be protected into helplessness."

He studied me for a long moment. Then nodded. "Fair."

He stepped back. Gave me real space.

Progress.

"I'll do the briefing," I said. "But after that, I want access. Internet. News. The outside world."

He considered. "We'll discuss terms."

I smiled thinly. "Of course you will."

As he turned to leave, I called out. "Elias?"

He stopped.

"If I really was three... then whatever happened to me wasn't my fault."

His voice was steady. Certain. "It never was."

The door closed.

I sat back down, heart pounding.

Three years old. No memories.

But these men carried enough for all of us.

And whether I liked it or not, my past wasn't finished with me yet.