Ezra should have seen this coming. Ciarra was too good at this. She had a knack—an almost supernatural talent—for timing things just right so that he was too compromised to fight back properly.

  And right now? He was faded beyond comprehension.

  The painkillers were working.The edible was kicking in.And Ciarra?

  Ciarra was casually dropping a nuclear bomb into his p. "Looks like the Silent Legion did a number on you," she mused, gently pressing a cooling pad over one of his bruised ribs. Ezra, ying there half-mummified in casts and medical wraps, stared at her with the mental acuity of a potato.

  His brain knew he should be reacting—tensing up, panicking, questioning, anything—but his body? His body was having none of it. Instead, he let out a very slow, very deyed blink. "Whhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttt."

  Ciarra chuckled. Softly. Then, to make everything worse, she started petting him. Petting him. Like an actual cat. The fucking irony.

  Ezra wanted to protest. Wanted to voice his objections to the absolute absurdity of this situation. But his mouth didn’t work right. Not with this much weed in his system. Not after everything he’d just been through. And Ciarra?

  Ciarra was completely unbothered. She sat by his bedside, gently stroking his hair, her expression calm, yet distant—the look of someone who had seen too much and was too tired to fight anymore. "You probably have questions," she said softly.

  Ezra tried. He tried so hard. To formute words. To sound coherent. To say literally anything intelligible. But what actually came out was—"Pbbbhfhffttt whaaa dya meaan Sil...hrrnng Lezzl?"

  Ciarra smirked, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. "Mr. Key’s family wasn’t the first to stand up to the Silent Legion," she continued. "They’re… not bad people, per se. But they’re dealing with forces far beyond what humanity can even begin to imagine."

  Ezra narrowed his eyes in the best approximation of suspicion he could manage. Or maybe he just looked like he was trying to do math while concussed. Either way, his displeasure was noted.

  Ciarra sighed. "My family," she admitted, voice quieter now, "was among the first to stand up to them."

  A pause. Her hand, still petting him, trembled slightly. "You shouldn’t," she said, barely above a whisper.

  Ezra tilted his head, the movement sluggish, heavy.

  Ciarra inhaled shakily. "You have your own family to look after," she murmured. "Don’t…"

  She choked up. Ezra’s fogged mind tched onto that moment of weakness. "Dohhhnt whaaa?" he slurred, eyes half-lidded, slowly blinking one at a time.

  Ciarra swallowed, her grip on his hair tightening for a fraction of a second before she let go. "Don’t abandon your family," she whispered. "Chasing after something that’s not yours to reach for."

  Ezra stared at her. His brain was screaming. He had so many questions. So many things he needed to say. But the words refused to cooperate. Instead, what he actually said was— "Nnnnno but liiike…hffphphphppp wuuu ifff...nrrrrghh… whhhhy daaaahhh faaaaammmmilyyy issa… wwaaaahhhhrrrgggrghhh???"

  Ciarra blinked. A slow, bemused smile crept across her lips.

  Ezra, meanwhile, was completely unaware that his attempt at speech had just been pure gibberish.

  "I see the painkillers are working," she mused.

  Ezra tried again. "Buuhhhht— fffzznnnnrrrttt?"

  Ciarra giggled, shaking her head. "Shh, just rest."

  Ezra tried to gre at her. It didn’t work. Instead, he just looked like a very disgruntled, very high walrus. "Hhhrgnnghh."

  Ciarra smirked, resuming her gentle petting. "That’s what I thought."

  Ezra, high as absolute shit, vibrated at a frequency beyond human comprehension. His body was stationary, sure, but his mind? His mind was doing somersaults into the void. And Auntie Ciarra? Auntie Ciarra was amused.

  She hummed softly, continuing to pet him like some oversized, bedridden therapy cat, her fingers gently running through his hair. "You know," she murmured, "since you’re already in a dream state, why don’t I tell you a little story?"

  Ezra’s dited pupils attempted to focus on her. His brain, desperate to form words, made a valiant effort. "…fwahhh… s’tory… yeaaahhhuhhhh…"

  Good enough.

  Ciarra chuckled, her voice soothing, distant, like the sound of waves pping against a distant shore.

  "There once was a little girl," Ciarra began, "who didn’t have a father. None of the other children wanted to py with her. She was different. So she made an imaginary friend."

  Ezra blinked asynchronously, trying to process this information. His mouth moved before his brain caught up. "Ohhhhh, I had one’a those toooo… hi’name was Jeff’ington… buhhhhh he wuzz a mp…"

  Ciarra smiled. "A mp, huh?"

  Ezra nodded very, very slowly. Then stopped mid-motion as if he forgot what nodding was.

  Ciarra giggled softly and continued. "This little girl," she said, "wanted to do great things. And her imaginary friend encouraged her. She saved lives. She helped nature. She graduated at the top of her css. But…"

  Her voice trailed off. Ezra’s brows furrowed, trying to keep up. "Buhhhhhhhttt…?"

  Ciarra sighed. "The imaginary friend wasn’t her friend at all," she said softly.

  Ezra’s gging brain clicked once. His eyes went wide. "OOOOOH NOOOOOO…!"

  Ciarra stifled a ugh, shaking her head. "Oh yes." "The friend," she murmured, "was the devil whispering in her ear. And what she once thought was helping others… Was actually hurting them."

  Ezra’s face twisted into an expression of genuine concern. Then, his lips parted, and he spoke with great wisdom. "Buhh thass just R00D."

  Ciarra let out a short snort of ughter before composing herself again. "The ‘nature’ she had helped turned against her. Her school? It burned to the ground. Because the foolish little girl had spread a bad disease."

  Ezra squinted hard, his fingers twitching slightly like he was trying to do math in his head. Then, he lifted a very wobbly hand, pointing at her."…soun’s… liiiiiiiike… y’need’a refund on that fwiendship."

  Ciarra choked on a ugh. "You’re not wrong."

  "The poor girl," Ciarra continued, voice growing softer, "was hated. She was alone. Everywhere she went, there was nowhere she could hide. Nowhere there wasn’t someone who despised her." She paused. "And all the while…" she murmured. "The devil ughed in her ear. Reminding her of her sins."

  Ezra, blinking at different speeds in each eye, reached out and took her hand. A clumsy, clunky motion, but sincere. Ciarra looked down, startled at first. Ezra’s fingers wrapped gently around hers, holding it with the full emotional weight of a man whose body was physically incapable of forming words properly.

  Ciarra swallowed.

  Ezra tried to speak, tried to offer something profound— "Awwww nuuuuuuuuhhhhh…!"

  Ciarra closed her eyes, shaking her head with a small, tearful ugh. "You are so high."

  Ezra nodded sagely. Then forgot he was nodding and just stared bnkly at the ceiling.

  "But," Ciarra whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "there was one."

  Ezra’s gzed-over eyes tilted toward her.

  "One person," she continued, "who didn’t turn the little girl away. One brave man who let her join his family." She paused, swallowing thickly. "But it wasn’t meant to st."

  Ezra’s brows furrowed, his sluggish brain piecing things together in slow motion. "Waaaaaaiiiiitttttt…"

  Ciarra let out a shaky breath, voice wavering now. "The devil was still whispering," she murmured. "And in the end… Bad people came. To hurt her family. And she did what she had to do. She ran. Again."

  Ezra’s gut twisted. He wanted to sit up, to offer something—anything—to comfort her. But his body would not cooperate. So instead— He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer.

  Ciarra, caught off guard, allowed herself to be pulled against him. She let out a choked breath, then—without hesitation—resumed petting him.

  Ezra, barely able to process what was happening, just let it happen. "Hhrnnggghhh."

  Ciarra sighed, resting her forehead gently against his. "Yeah," she whispered. "That’s what I thought."

  Ciarra’s voice was soft, rhythmic, her fingers absently combing through Ezra’s hair as she continued her story. "Eventually," she murmured, "the little girl found out where the devil was hiding."

  Ezra, barely hanging onto reality, nodded sagely like he understood every word. "Mmmhff, yeahhh… bet’was undera bed… sneaky lil’ basturd…"

  Ciarra smiled, shaking her head. "No, not under a bed." She traced gentle circles on his arm, keeping her voice steady, calm, almost hypnotic. "She had to fight many demons just to learn the truth. But in the end, she managed. She found him."

  Ezra squinted, trying to process that. "Sheeee beat’da… demon… pants off’m?"

  Ciarra snorted. "Something like that."

  "Goo’ f’her… show’m wassup…"

  Ciarra chuckled, but her tone grew heavier. "But when the time came to defeat the devil once and for all…" She paused. "The devil won."

  Ezra’s brows twitched, his sluggish mind trying to catch up. "Wait… wut?"

  Ciarra let out a slow breath. "One st trick," she whispered. "One st cruel, final act." She held Ezra just a little tighter. "He banished her to nds unknown."

  Ezra, sufficiently high beyond all human comprehension, narrowed his eyes in slow motion. "…Dat’s some BULLSHIT!"

  Ciarra burst into soft ughter. "I thought you’d say that." And then— Ezra reached for her tail. His fingers brushed against the soft fur, and the moment his brain registered the sensation—Oh.

  Oh, this was fun.

  He gave it a little pet. Then another. Then, feeling exceptionally pleased with himself, he grinned like a fool and kept going.

  Ciarra, utterly delighted, ughed again. "You’re having fun, huh?"

  Ezra, slurring through his stoned bliss, muttered, "Whooo needs t’chase tail when ya can pet itttt?"

  Ciarra let out an unfiltered giggle, eyes gleaming with mischief.

  Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she climbed onto the bed with him, curling up comfortably beside him. She gently guided his hand back to her tail, letting him continue his grand adventure into feline-approved petting.

  Ezra, giddy as hell, let out a content sigh and melted into the bed. And then— Ezra purred. Not intentionally. Not ironically. Just—pure, instinctual, stoned satisfaction. Ciarra froze for a second, blinking. Then—she absolutely lost it.

  She giggled so hard she shook, burying her face in Ezra’s chest, her own purring mixing in with his. "You’re so cute when you’re like this," she murmured, nuzzling into him.

  Ezra, brain too fried to even argue, just grunted in vague agreement.

  And that’s when the door opened.

  Julie had come to check on Ezra, expecting to see him knocked out, recovering peacefully in bed. What she actually saw—Was Auntie Ciarra curled up beside him, tail wrapped comfortably around Ezra, both of them purring like a couple of smug-ass house cats.

  Ezra, high out of his mind, unable to function properly, blinked very, very slowly as his girlfriend stood in the doorway.

  His brain SCREAMED in panic. He had to say something. Anything. Something that could expin the situation.

  But what actually came out was—"Juhhhhhh… wha—hrrrrmmnnngggghhh…"

  Julie squinted. Ezra struggled. The words refused to cooperate.

  "Iz… issa… hhhhho—hhhhozzzzhhhh…"

  Ciarra, still snuggled up, grinned zily at Julie.

  "Hey, Jules," she purred. "You’re just in time." Julie crossed her arms, raised a brow, and tilted her head very, very slowly.

  "In time for what?" she asked sweetly. Ezra, desperately trying to salvage this, pointed at Ciarra with all the confidence of a man who forgot what pointing was. "Sheeee tellin’… storystuff… ‘bout da devil… an’ thass bullshit!"

  Julie blinked. Looked at Ciarra. Then back at Ezra. Then at Ezra’s hand, still gripping Ciarra’s tail. Julie’s expression did not change. Ezra, brain realizing just a fraction too te that this looked bad, immediately panicked harder.

  "NONONONNOOOO—DASSNOT—IZZ JUS—HHRRRHHHGGGGG—"

  Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Alright," she muttered.

  Then she turned to Ciarra. "You."

  Ciarra blinked innocently. "Me?"

  Julie’s eyes narrowed. "If you don’t make some space, I’m grabbing a spray bottle."

  Ezra choked.

  Ciarra giggled.

  Julie, calmly, as if it was an undeniable truth of the universe, added—"And then I’m stealing my man for smooches."

  Ciarra, purring deviously, scooted over just slightly.

  Julie plopped onto the bed, grabbing Ezra’s dazed, confused, thoroughly ruined self and immediately kissed him on the forehead.

  Ezra’s entire soul had left his body at this point.

  Ciarra happily resumed petting him.

  Julie leaned in close, smirking. "You’re never living this down."

  Ezra, barely functioning, murmured, "…hhhhhrrnnnngggghhh."

  Julie grinned victoriously. And thus, the ultimate group cuddle commenced.