She Knows

Third-person POV

Zephyra had never been the smartest person in the room, but she liked to think she had good instincts, and right now, those instincts were screaming at her that this was the perfect chance to get Astraea to admit what she already knew.

She wasn't human.

The voice in her head tonight, the precise timing of her guidance, the whisper that somehow gave her body the push to rise again—it all lined up with that night in her apartment. The glowing red eyes, the way Astraea had tried to erase her memory, and the fact that it hadn't worked.

Zephyra knew the truth. She just needed Astraea to say it.

So, despite the pain throbbing through every limb, despite the warm stickiness of blood drying on her face and the sting in her swollen eye, she stood there, chin tilted up slightly as she met Astraea's gaze and asked, "Are you going to finally tell me what you really are?"

Astraea didn't respond immediately.

Her expression didn't shift. No smirk, no wide eyes, and certainly no dramatic pause. She just stood there, calm and cold, her eyes flicking once over Zephyra's ruined face before returning to meet hers again. The silence between them stretched, almost daring Zephyra to break it.

Then Astraea scoffed. "I think Rina might've knocked something loose in your head," she said dryly. "Maybe cracked a few brain cells. You're clearly not thinking straight."

Zephyra opened her mouth to respond, to say something about the voice, the voice she knew hadn't come from her own imagination, but Astraea held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't," Astraea said, her voice lower now. "Don't stand there, looking like a walking corpse, and ask me foolish questions. You're too bruised to be throwing around wild theories."

Zephyra's lips pressed into a thin line. She was used to being brushed off. It had happened her whole life, but this time, it stung more than she expected. Maybe because she wasn't entirely wrong and because Astraea didn't even bother trying to lie convincingly.

She wasn't denying it, not really.

Still, Zephyra let it go for now. Her body was aching, her legs wobbling beneath her, and her pride had taken enough of a beating for one night. She exhaled shakily and muttered, "Fine."

Then, more clearly, she said, "Can you at least help me walk? I don't think I can stay upright much longer, and if I fall flat on my face while people are still watching…" She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Astraea hesitated, just a flicker of it, before stepping forward. Without a word, she moved to Zephyra's side and reached out. Her hand slid under Zephyra's arm, strong and steady, and the warmth of her skin was oddly grounding. Zephyra leaned into her touch more than she meant to, wincing as her ribs protested.

"Careful," Astraea murmured, not unkindly, even though her face remained unreadable.

They began to walk slowly, with Astraea guiding her out of the fight ring area and toward one of the side corridors that led to the locker rooms. The crowd had already shifted their attention elsewhere, some to the next fight, others to their drinks or the nearest gossip.

Still, Zephyra couldn't shake the heat prickling at the back of her neck. Being seen like this, weak, bloody, leaning on someone else, wasn't what she wanted, but for some reason, she didn't mind leaning on Astraea.

"You didn't have to show up tonight," Zephyra said softly, staring ahead at the dark hallway. "Most people say they'll come and don't."

"I'm not most people," Astraea replied smoothly.

Zephyra chuckled, the sound breaking into a small cough. "No. You're definitely not."

Astraea didn't say anything to that.

They turned the corner that Zephyra had pointed at, and Astraea gently nudged open the door to the locker room. The hallway was quiet here, far from the roar of the crowd. Astraea helped her onto a wooden bench, her touch surprisingly gentle given her usual sharp edge.

Zephyra sat down slowly, letting out a shaky breath. "Thanks."

Astraea crossed her arms, leaning against the lockers, her eyes flicking over Zephyra again. "You need something for that eye."

"Got a first aid kit in my bag," Zephyra mumbled, motioning vaguely to a gym duffel on the floor nearby.

Astraea moved silently, picking it up and rifling through it until she found what she assumed was what she was looking for. She tossed Zephyra a cold pack she found and then walked over to the sink and grabbed a damp towel.

"Are you sure you want to keep doing this?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder. "Fighting people like Rina and ending your nights looking like a wounded animal."

Zephyra pressed the cold pack to her cheek and winced. "You saw the crowd, didn't you?"

Astraea's expression remained neutral.

"They stopped booing," Zephyra said, her eyes locked on the floor. "First time in a long time that they looked at me and didn't laugh. That… that kind of thing makes it worth it."

At Zephyra's words, Astraea let out a long, slow sigh and then tossed the towel into the sink. The soft thud it made barely echoed in the quiet locker room, and her fingers lingered at the edge of the counter for a second longer before she turned, her eyes cold and unreadable as they settled on Zephyra.

She sat hunched over on the bench, one arm resting on her thigh and the other pressing a cold pack to the worst of her bruises. Her nose had mostly stopped bleeding, but her entire face still carried the aftermath of her fight with Rina.

She was quiet now, clearly too exhausted, but her eyes flicked upward the moment she felt Astraea's gaze settle on her.

Astraea didn't blink. "Have a good night," she said suddenly.

Zephyra blinked, startled. "What?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she straightened slightly, grimacing at the pull in her ribs. "What do you mean 'have a good night'? We're in a freaking locker room. This is not exactly bedtime vibes."

Astraea didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward, raised her hand, and snapped her fingers right in front of Zephyra's face.

Instantly, Zephyra's body went limp. Her cold pack fell from her hand and hit the floor with a soft plop. Her head dropped forward first, then her entire body tilted sideways, her breathing slow but steady.

Astraea caught her easily.

With an exasperated sigh, she bent and scooped Zephyra up over her shoulder like she weighed nothing at all. Grabbing Zephyra's duffel bag with one hand, she turned toward the exit and made her way through the empty corridor.

Outside the locker room, Draven stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning against the wall like he'd been waiting for hours. His eyes narrowed immediately when he saw Astraea approaching with a very unconscious, very bruised Zephyra over her shoulder.

He stepped forward, scowling. "What the hell is going on?"

"She passed out," Astraea muttered, not slowing her steps.

Draven moved in front of her path, forcing her to stop. "Passed out, or did you knock her out?"

Astraea gave him a long, annoyed look. "Same thing. She's out, and I'm taking her."

Draven's eyes flicked to the girl's limp form. "Why?" he asked, voice lowering. "Why are you carrying her like this? What happened in there?"

Astraea hesitated for a second, then sighed and adjusted Zephyra on her shoulder. "She knows."

Draven's brows drew together. "Knows what?"

"She knows I'm not human," Astraea said, her voice low. "I don't know how, and I don't know since when, but somehow, she figured it out, and I intend to figure out how."