Emma didn’t need to hear words to know something was wrong.

Her partner had been quieter than usual—long silences stretched between touches, and smiles no longer reached her eyes. The coffee went cold in her hands each morning. The music she once danced to now played unanswered.

Emma watched from the doorway of their shared suite in the Hellfire Club, arms crossed, white silk robe barely tied. Her partner sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched forward, a hollow sort of stillness clinging to her.

She hadn’t said anything.

And that—more than anything—unnerved Emma.

“Darling,” Emma said gently, but there was no response.

The telepath in her itched.

Emma never intruded on the woman she loved. Never needed to. But tonight, love demanded more than silence. It demanded knowing, even if the truth came wrapped in pain.

She stepped forward and closed her eyes.

If her partner wouldn’t speak her sorrow, Emma would find it buried deep—and meet it there, heart first.