The ruined chapel breathes with us—walls creaking, glass crunching under our boots, the night pressing in heavy like it wants to witness every fractured word.
And I don’t know if I want to kiss him or claw him apart.
The air feels heavier in here, like the walls are closing in, like even the dust knows what’s happening between us. His hand is still on my jaw, his thumb rough against my skin, and I hate that my body leans into it when my heart is screaming no.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, voice splintered.
“Like what?” His eyes burn into mine, blue ice flickering with something that should scare me but instead makes me ache.
“Like you still want me.”
His laugh is jagged, broken glass cutting both of us. “Still? Butterfly, I never stopped.”
My stomach twists. My pulse betrays me, pounding against his fingers like it wants to jump straight into his palm. “Then why did you leave me?”
His nostrils flare, his grip tightening like he’s holding himself together by keeping me still. “Because I thought it would save you.”
“You don’t get to say that.” My voice cracks, but the anger pushes it forward. “You don’t get to dress up abandonment as sacrifice. You left me, Dax. You left me to rot with the ghost of you.”
Something flashes across his face—guilt, fury, grief all colliding until his jaw trembles. He presses closer, so close I can taste the whiskey still clinging to his breath.
“I left because I break everything I touch.” His words scrape out like confession. “And you’re the only thing I can’t survive breaking.”
Tears spill hot down my cheeks, but I don’t move, don’t wipe them away. “Then don’t touch me.”
His lips part, a tremor running through his chest. “I can’t.”
“Dax—”
“I fucking can’t, Cassandra. You’re in my veins, you’re under my skin, you’re in every goddamn breath I take. I wake up choking on your name and I still tell myself to stay away, but then I see you—” His forehead presses to mine, desperate, shaking. “And I forget how.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, sob catching in my throat. “You’ll leave again.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, rough, anchoring. “And you’ll still haunt me if I do. So tell me what the fuck you want me to do.”
I break. The sob finally rips free, tearing me open. “I want you to stop letting me fall alone.”
The silence after feels like a battlefield—raw, scorched, waiting for the next shot.
His breathing is ragged, his body trembling against mine, and I know he’s about to either kiss me or destroy me.
And I don’t know which one I’m begging for.
“Tell me what the fuck you want me to do,” he growls, forehead pressed so hard to mine it feels like he’s trying to climb inside my skull and burn every thought but him.
The words rip out of me before I can stop them. “I want you to stop fucking leaving me!”
His whole body jolts, like I just aimed a weapon at his chest and fired point blank. His hands fist in my hair, pulling my head back until I’m looking straight up at him, throat exposed, tears slicking down my cheeks like surrender.
His eyes are wild.
Blue flames.
Danger and desperation tangled so tight it hurts to breathe.
“You think I want to leave you?” His voice is hoarse, guttural, torn straight from the battlefield. “I’ve been running from you since the second I touched you and it’s still not fucking enough. I can’t out-drink you, can’t out-bleed you, can’t out-fight you. You’re still there every time I close my eyes, Butterfly. Still on my tongue. Still in my fucking bones.”
“Then why?—”
