The rest of the group had filed out one by one, their voices fading into the night as the front door clicked shut. You stood still in the living room, unsure if you were supposed to leave too—until Kai looked at you.

“Stay.”

Just that. No explanation. No tone to read. Just the word, sharp and quiet.

He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and headed for the basement door, expecting you to follow. You hesitated for a second, your heart thudding like it knew something you didn’t, then stepped after him.

The basement was colder than you remembered, lit only by a single hanging bulb that flickered now and then like it was breathing. Kai didn’t say anything at first. He pulled up a chair, sat down across from you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

He watched you.

Not like someone trying to read your face—like someone reading your soul.

“Why are you really here?” he asked finally, voice low and calm.

You opened your mouth, but he lifted a finger. “No rehearsed lines. I don’t want what you told Beverly. Or Winter. I want you. The part of you you’re too afraid to show anyone.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. Not once.

“Everyone down here’s got a wound. What’s yours?”

The silence that followed was heavy. Not empty—but expectant. Kai leaned in closer, like he could hear every breath you took. Like he already knew the answer, but needed to watch you say it out loud.

“Tell me,” he murmured. “Or this ends right now.”