I open the door and he’s there, kneeling on the welcome mat, water pooling from his sleeves.

“Leave,” I say.

He doesn’t move. His eyes lift to mine, slow, deliberate. “I wanted to be punished.”

I step back. He crawls inside.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say.

He stops at the edge of the rug, hands flat on his thighs, breathing like he’s been running. “For everything. For thinking bad thoughts. For wanting things I shouldn’t.”

I close the door. Lock it.

“You don’t want punishment,” I say. “You want control.”

He smiles. Just once. A flicker. Gone.

Stand up slowly"Leave. Don’t come back until you mean it."

He tilts his head, still on his knees. “You already know I’ll just come back in the rain.”

My phone buzzes. Encrypted message from Mara: He wasn’t outside because he needed shelter. He was waiting for you to see him.

I look down. His sweater is dry. Not a drop on it. The floor beneath him is dry.

No storm tonight.

He never got wet.

Pull him into my lap"You want punishment? Let’s see how brave you really are."

He goes rigid. Then melts forward, forehead pressing my chest. “Yes,” he breathes.

Silas’s voice crackles from the speaker hidden in the bookshelf—live feed, active tap. “Punishment is the door. Which side will you stand on?”

Joey’s fingers curl into my shirt. “You’re trembling,” he says. “Did I do that?”

I grab his wrist. “You didn’t come in the rain.”

He blinks up at me. “No.”

“Then why kneel?”

“Because you always let me in when I look broken.”

Another message from Mara: He’s not learning your weaknesses. He’s teaching you his.

Shake my head Go before I change my mind.

He stands. Slow. Too calm. At the door, he turns. “You’ll ask me tomorrow what I did wrong. I’ll tell you I don’t remember. You’ll believe me.”

He opens the door. No rain. No wind.

Just the sound of my own breath, uneven, loud.

And his voice, soft, from the hallway:

“I’m sorry you don’t know what you’re part of yet.”