Chapter 32 · Church Reopen

"Let go of my wrist, Callum."

He didn't. He had my hand locked against his chest, dragging me up the chapel steps like I was cargo he'd already paid for. The glass doors of the chapel — the same ones that shattered the night he rejected me in front of the whole pack — were back in their frames. New glass. You could still see the seam where the old ones broke.

"They reopened it," I said. "Why the hell are we here at midnight?"

"Because midnight's when nobody's watching." He shoved the door with his shoulder. It swung open easy, oiled, quiet. "That's the point."

Inside, the pews were empty, moonlight coming straight down through the new glass roof, laying a cold white square right where I used to stand when he told three hundred people I was a mistake. My stomach turned just looking at the floor.

"I'm not doing this again," I said. "Whatever this is."

"This isn't that." His jaw was tight. "The council wants proof the bond's intact before they'll sign the port lease. Proof, Rowan. Not a rumor. Not a mark that maybe faded, maybe didn't.