The decision came before dawn.
That was how these things always happened — not in moments of chaos, but in the quiet hours when the mind was sharp and the cost could be calculated without sentiment clouding judgment.
Rafael stood alone in his office, city lights dim behind the glass, listening as Cassian finished speaking.
"They're not targeting you anymore," Cassian said. "They're positioning around her."
Rafael didn't respond immediately.
Cassian continued, voice controlled but tense. "Not surveillance. Influence. Academic pressure. Social isolation. If that fails—"
"—they escalate," Rafael finished.
"Yes."
Rafael's hands rested flat on the desk. Still. Composed. The posture of a man deciding how much blood he was willing to spill — and how much he was willing to endure instead.
"How long?" he asked.
"Hours," Cassian replied. "Maybe less."
Rafael closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the decision was already made.
"She leaves," he said. "Today."
Cassian nodded once. "I'll arrange it."
"No," Rafael said sharply. "Not like that."
Cassian looked up. "Then how?"
"She doesn't know why," Rafael said. "Not fully."
Cassian stiffened. "That will hurt her."
"Yes," Rafael replied quietly. "Which is why it will work."
---
Anabeth woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind — the wrong kind. The kind that felt curated.
Her phone lay on the bedside table, screen dark. No overnight messages. No alerts. No familiar hum of the city pressing inward.
She sat up slowly.
The apartment felt empty.
Rafael's jacket was gone from the chair. Cassian's presence — usually sensed rather than seen — was absent.
Her chest tightened.
She dressed quickly and stepped into the main room.
Rafael stood near the window, fully dressed, posture unreadable.
"You're awake," he said.
"You're leaving," she replied.
He didn't deny it.
"What's happening?" she asked, voice steady but thin.
Rafael turned to face her. His expression was controlled — too controlled.
"There's been a shift," he said. "The safest move is distance."
Her heart dropped.
"Distance from what?" she asked.
"From me."
The words landed like a strike to the chest.
She crossed the room in three quick steps. "No. You don't get to decide that alone."
Rafael met her gaze, eyes dark with something carefully restrained. "I do when your safety is the variable."
"I didn't ask you to protect me by erasing yourself," she said.
"I'm not erasing myself," he replied. "I'm removing leverage."
"You think I'm leverage?" Her voice sharpened.
"I think you're the pressure point they'll keep pressing," he said evenly.
Anabeth laughed once — short, disbelieving. "So your solution is to disappear?"
"Yes."
She stared at him, the silence between them growing heavy.
"How long?" she asked finally.
Rafael hesitated.
That was answer enough.
"This isn't protection," she said quietly. "This is abandonment dressed as strategy."
The accusation cut deeper than any shout could have.
Rafael didn't flinch. "Say what you need to say."
"I trusted you," she said. "You told me restraint mattered. That choice mattered. And now you're making one without me."
Rafael stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her.
"If I stay," he said, voice low, "they will hurt you just to prove they can."
"And if you leave?" she demanded.
"They lose focus," he replied. "They turn inward. They fracture."
Her hands trembled at her sides. "You don't know that."
"I do," he said. "Because I would do the same."
Silence fell.
The weight of inevitability pressed down on them both.
Cassian appeared in the doorway then, presence heavy with finality.
"The window is closing," he said.
Anabeth turned on him sharply. "You knew."
Cassian met her gaze without apology. "I agreed."
Betrayal flared hot and fast.
"You're both deciding my life like it's a board move," she said.
Rafael's voice softened dangerously. "No. I'm deciding how to keep you alive."
She shook her head slowly. "You're deciding how to live with yourself."
That landed.
Rafael's jaw tightened.
"Look at me," Anabeth said.
He did.
"Say it honestly," she pressed. "Is this about danger… or about control?"
The room held its breath.
Rafael answered carefully. "It's about not letting my feelings become a liability."
Her chest ached.
"So that's what I am now," she said quietly. "A weakness you have to manage."
"No," he said immediately. "You're the reason."
The words didn't soothe. They cut deeper.
Cassian cleared his throat. "Transportation is waiting."
Anabeth stepped back.
"I won't beg," she said. "And I won't pretend I understand this."
Rafael nodded once. "You don't have to."
She grabbed her bag, movements sharp, controlled by anger she refused to let turn into tears.
At the door, she paused.
"When this ends," she said without turning, "don't assume I'll still be standing where you left me."
Rafael's voice was steady — but it cost him everything. "I wouldn't insult you by assuming that."
The door closed behind her.
---
The city blurred past the car window as Anabeth stared straight ahead, jaw tight, heart pounding with everything she refused to release.
Cassian sat beside her, silent.
After several minutes, she spoke.
"You chose him."
Cassian nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he'll burn himself before he lets anyone else do it," Cassian said. "And because you don't deserve to be caught in the fallout."
She laughed bitterly. "That didn't stop it from hurting."
"No," Cassian agreed. "It didn't."
They drove in silence after that.
---
Rafael stood alone in the apartment long after she was gone.
The air still held her presence — the faint scent of coffee, the echo of her voice, the weight of what he had deliberately severed.
He moved to the window and stared down at the city he controlled better than any man alive.
And felt none of it.
Cassian's message came through minutes later.
She's safe. For now.
Rafael closed his eyes.
Safety had never felt so much like loss.
---
Across campus, rumors spread quickly.
Anabeth's absence didn't go unnoticed.
Speculation bloomed — withdrawal, disgrace, fear.
None of them knew the truth.
That distance wasn't retreat.
It was a weapon.
And it cut both ways.