---
Elara woke to the smell of coffee.
For a moment, she lay still, listening. Miles's apartment was quiet except for the faint scrape of a chair in the kitchen and the low hum of the refrigerator. Cass was still asleep beside her, his breathing steady, one arm draped across his stomach. He looked younger like this—unguarded, peaceful. She hated to disturb him.
But the memory of last night jolted her fully awake: Miles's muffled voice through the door, the words that had chilled her to the bone. "…yeah, they're here. I told you. But the journal—"
She sat up slowly, careful not to wake Cass, and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
Miles was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand. His hair was damp from a shower, his shirt wrinkled but clean. He looked like any normal twenty-year-old starting his day. Too normal.
When he saw her, he smiled easily. "Morning, Elara."
His voice was light, casual. But his eyes—his eyes were too sharp, watching her too closely.
"Morning," she muttered, pulling a chair back from the table.
He poured her a mug of coffee without asking, sliding it across to her. "Figured you'd need it. Long night."
She hesitated, then took it, wrapping her hands around the warmth. The silence between them stretched thin.
Miles broke it first. "So. You sleep okay?"
"Fine."
His smile twitched, like he'd noticed the flatness in her tone. He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim. "You know, I was surprised when you showed up here. Cass, sure—he's always been reckless enough to think I'd say yes to something like this. But you? You never liked me much."
She stiffened. "That's not true."
"Come on," he said with a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "You've been side-eyeing me since high school. I could practically hear you thinking, 'He's going to drag Cass down with him.'"
Her throat tightened, but she forced a shrug. "Maybe I just didn't trust the way you always had a plan for everything."
For the briefest flicker of a second, something in his expression hardened. Then it was gone, replaced with a grin. "Guess that makes two of us. You don't trust me, and I don't trust most people. But I do trust Cass. That's enough, isn't it?"
She didn't answer.
Miles leaned forward on the counter, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "You know, you remind me of him more than you think. That edge in your eyes. Always braced for the knife in the dark. The difference is—" He tilted his head. "—Cass believes the best in people. You believe the worst."
Her pulse kicked hard in her chest. He's circling me, she thought. He knows.
But she schooled her face into something neutral, sipping the coffee. "Maybe one of us is right."
He chuckled, but the sound was hollow.
The rest of the morning played out with Cass blissfully unaware. He bounded into the kitchen, hair still wet from a quick shower, and devoured the scrambled eggs Miles had made. He cracked jokes, nudged Elara when she didn't smile, filled the silence with easy chatter.
But the silence wasn't empty. It was thick.
Every time Miles glanced her way, Elara felt the weight of it—the unspoken knowledge simmering between them.
---
Later, when Cass went to dig through the journal again in the spare room, Miles lingered in the living room. Elara tried to retreat after him, but Miles's voice stopped her.
"Elara. A sec?"
Her spine stiffened. She turned slowly. "What?"
He gestured toward the small balcony outside, sliding the glass door open. Cool air drifted in, carrying the city's hum. "Fresh air. Come on."
For a second she considered refusing, but that would've been too obvious. She stepped outside.
Miles leaned on the railing, staring out at the skyline. "You know," he said casually, "Cass talks about your dad a lot. About how you were the one who held things together after he died. Stronger than him, he says."
Her heart clenched. "That's not true."
"I think it is." He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're the anchor. The one who doesn't bend. But anchors… anchors can also drag people down if they're too heavy."
Elara's skin prickled. "Is that supposed to mean something?"
Miles's smile was small, almost apologetic. "Just that you and I—we see things Cass doesn't. We know the world doesn't run on trust. It runs on leverage."
Her stomach knotted. She forced herself to hold his gaze. "Funny. You sound like you're trying to convince me of something."
His expression flickered, just for an instant. Then he laughed. "Maybe I am."
---
That afternoon, it happened.
Cass had left the journal on the coffee table while he showered again. Miles was sprawled on the couch, flipping lazily through a record sleeve. Elara sat stiffly in the armchair across from him, pretending to read a book.
Then Miles stood, stretching. "Hey, mind watching this for a sec?" he asked, tapping the journal with two fingers. "Don't let me forget where I left it."
He wandered into the kitchen, whistling.
Elara froze.
The journal sat there in the open, unguarded. She could feel his eyes on her, even though he was out of sight. The test was obvious—too obvious.
Her fingers itched to snatch it up, to check if he'd tampered with it, to guard it. But if she moved, if she touched it, he'd know.
So she forced herself to stay still.
The minutes dragged. Finally, Miles returned with a soda, picked up the journal, and set it back down as though nothing had happened. His eyes met hers briefly. Searching. Measuring.
She didn't blink.
"Thanks," he said lightly, taking a swig from the can.
But she knew she'd passed—or failed. She couldn't tell which.
---
That night, after Cass had fallen asleep again, Elara lay awake staring at the ceiling. Her body buzzed with tension, every nerve raw.
Miles knew. She knew he knew.
And worse—he knew she couldn't tell Cass.
If she did, Cass would dismiss it, maybe even laugh at her paranoia. Miles had woven himself too tightly into Cass's trust. To attack that bond without proof would only fracture them.
So the game continued.
Elara turned on her side, clutching the journal under the pillow. Her whisper was soundless, meant only for herself.
If he's testing me… then I'll test him too.
---