From the window of my office, I watched Nine move through the garden below. His white hair caught the morning light like strands of silk, shining brighter with every slow step he took between the rows of herbs and vines. He cradled the watering can carefully, the way one might hold something sacred.
He looked peaceful. Content, even.
And everyone in the facility knew who he was now.
Mine.
They might not like it. They might whisper when they thought I couldn't hear. But no one dared treat him as anything less than my mate—not anymore. The guards nodded when he passed. The staff bowed their heads. Even the head med-tech referred to him as "Mr. Nine" now, voice clipped with a new, uneasy respect.
Still, it wasn't enough.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," I said without turning.
Kol's footsteps were easy to recognize—measured, confident, just the right amount of noise to make sure I knew it was him and not some overeager junior.
"You called for me?" he said.
"I did."
I kept watching Nine. He was crouched now, tugging a stray weed from the base of a flowering bush. His hands moved with that same grace I could never get used to. Hands that had once been forced to entertain and serve... now reclaiming life one gentle gesture at a time.
"I want to leave," I said.
A pause. "Permanently?"
"Yes. With him."
I turned to face Kol. "I want you to take over the facility."
He didn't react outwardly. Just met my gaze with his usual unreadable calm. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure," I said. "He's... safe now. At least safer. People respect him because they're afraid of what I'd do if they didn't. But that's not the same as freedom, Kol. And I want to give him something real."
Kol moved to stand beside me, looking out the window. "He's not the same boy who arrived here."
"No," I murmured. "He's grown so much. Braver. Softer too. But no matter how much he changes, this place will always remember him as what he was—as what they made him be. I can't ask him to keep living inside the walls that broke him."
Kol didn't speak.
"I've found a place," I added after a moment. "Private. Countryside. Not far from the shelter. Somewhere quiet. Where we can plant roots—literal and otherwise."
He tilted his head. "And the facility?"
"You'll run it. You're the only one I trust with this. I'll still handle funds, monitor things remotely. But I'm done being the iron queen behind the curtain."
Kol raised a brow. "That's dramatic."
"Shut up."
That got a faint smile out of him. Just the edge of one.
"I need to go, Kol," I said, my voice low. "He deserves a home. A real one. One with a porch and fresh bread and rooms that don't have cameras in the corners."
He nodded once. "I'll make the transition smooth."
"Thank you." I hesitated, then added, "Take care of the hybrids. All of them. Especially the ones who haven't spoken a word yet. Be better than I was."
"You did more than anyone else ever tried to," he said simply. "But I will."
Outside, Nine stood perfectly still, arm outstretched. A small blue butterfly had landed on his hand, fluttering gently while he watched it with wide, careful eyes.
He smiled.
It was soft and private and everything I wanted to protect.
I pressed my fingers to the glass.
"We're leaving tomorrow."
Kol nodded and walked out, silent as always.
And I stayed there for a while, watching Nine's hand rise slowly toward the sun.