She flinched at my words, and I cursed myself for being so blunt. But fear gripped me—an icy terror.
“Sunshine,” I said softly, moving closer. “You should have shared this with me.”
“I didn’t know how,” she confessed, vulnerability spilling from her.
“You don’t need to have all the answers. Just let me in.”
Her gaze shifted away. “You weren’t supposed to be involved in this. He wants you on the mission, and me… as a pawn.”
“He doesn’t get to dictate what I mean to you,” I insisted. “He doesn’t get to reduce you to just a tool.”
She attempted to turn away, but I gently caught her wrist.
“I know you believe you must face this alone, that the only way to survive is to bury every part of yourself that feels. But I see those parts, Elizabeth. I love those parts.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
She met my gaze—eyes shimmering, guarded yet breaking, lips trembling as if she stood on the brink of shattering, caught between falling apart or fleeing.
“I’m scared, Noah,” she admitted, her voice quaking. “I don’t know how to be this… the creation he made and still hold onto everything I feel for you.”
That confession nearly shattered me.
“I don’t expect you to have it all figured out right now,” I said, stepping closer, my fingers brushing her hair behind her ear with the lightest touch. “I just need you to let me stand by your side. Let me fight for you.”
She remained silent, and she didn’t need to say anything. Her silence spoke volumes.
So, I leaned in, our foreheads touching, my hands cradling her cheeks while hers clenched at hersides, as if she were trying to keep herself from unraveling.
“If a bullet comes our way,” I said, “I’d rather take the hit than watch it strike you.”
Tears streamed down her face, silent and genuine, and this time, she didn’t wipe them away.
Because she understood—I wasn’t backing down. Not from the battle. Not from her.
Elizabeth
The alley was too quiet now.
The storm between us had passed—but the air still crackled like lightning hadn’t finished with us yet.
Noah was staring at me like he was starving.
Not just hungry.Starving.
Like he’d been holding back for too long, and now… he couldn’t anymore.
His eyes moved over me slowly, like he was memorizing every inch of bare skin, the dress revealed—like he was daring himself not to touch.
But I saw the way his jaw clenched.
The way his fists flexed like he was seconds from giving in.
He stepped closer.
“Elizabeth,” he said, voice rough—barely more than a whisper.
But it wasn’t just my name.
