I grabbed Addison's wrist.
Her violet eyes went wide. Not afraid. Surprised. Like she'd expected more debate, more noble protests, more of the self-sacrificing bullshit that got people killed in badly written fiction. Instead she got my fingers wrapped around her arm and my voice dropping into the register I used when I meant business.
"You want in? Fine. Let's go."
Private Sanctum activated with a thought. The hospital room dissolved around us like watercolor in rain, the beige walls and medical equipment and fluorescent lights all bleeding away into formless nothing. Addison sucked in a breath as reality unmade itself, her free hand grabbing my shoulder for balance while the world rebuilt itself according to my specifications.
I could have given her the penthouse suite. The beach at sunset. The throne room with the wine and the candles and all the romantic bullshit.
Instead I gave her something better.
We materialized in a classroom.
