Back at the penthouse, everything feels too quiet.
The city is still out there. Its lights glow faintly beyond the wall of windows. Inside, the chaos has settled. The adrenaline is gone. The fear, the screaming, the shadowy corners, all of it has faded into silence.
But I can still feel the tremble in my bones.
Luca carries me inside like I weigh nothing. I bury my face against his chest on the way up, clinging to the steady rhythm of his heart, to the scent of leather and cologne that already feels like comfort.
When he sets me down on the edge of the bed, I almost protest. Not because I want to be stubborn, but because I don’t want to let go of him yet.
He kneels in front of me, hands resting warmly on my thighs, grounding me. His eyes search my face like he’s afraid he might miss something like a hidden bruise or lingering terror he couldn’t protect me from.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you. No one will ever touch you again.”
His words settle over me like a weighted blanket. But it still takes a few seconds for me to gather the strength to speak.
“Thank you.”
He frowns, like he doesn’t understand why I’m thanking him. Like he doesn’t think he deserves it.
“No,” I say again, stronger this time. “Thank you for coming for me. Forfindingme. For saving me, Luca. Without you…” My voice cracks. “Without you, I’d be gone. Or worse.”
He rises slowly, towering over me, and something flickers across his face—guilt, pain, something darker. He reaches out and cups my cheek, brushing away the tears I didn’t even notice falling.
“I have darkness in me, Erin,” he says, his voice low and unsteady. “You’ve seen it now. I’ve done things I can’t undo. But I swear to you, I will never use that darkness against you. Only to protect you. Only foryou.”
Something in me cracks. The thing I’ve been holding together since the moment I woke up tied to that chair. I don’t need to speak. I just reach for him, cupping his face with shaking hands.
“I know,” I whisper. “I know who you are, and I’m not afraid of you.”
His eyes burn into mine. Something in him breaks too. Maybe it’s the guilt. The anger. Maybe it’s whatever line he’s drawn between what he is and what I think he can be.
He leans in.
The kiss he gives me isn’t hungry or desperate. It’s reverent. Like I’m something sacred.
But when I kiss him back, the air changes.
My hands fist in his shirt. His arms wrap tight around me, and we breathe each other in like we’ll never get another chance. Every kiss feels like a promise sealed with heat. Every touch, a vow.
We stumble back, lips never parting, until the backs of my knees hit the bed and we fall.
But it’s not a fall.
It’s surrender.
His lips move to my throat, kissing down the delicate skin with such care that it sends tingles skittering across my skin. I arch slightly, seeking more, and he groans into my neck like he’s barely holding back.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper. The words feel right. They feeltrue.
His hand slips beneath my shirt and palms my breast through the fabric. I gasp, the sensation raw and intimate. I still don’t know what I’m doing, not really. But with him, I don’t feel clumsy. I feelwanted.
He lifts the shirt over my head slowly, reverently, revealing me inch by inch like he’s unwrapping something fragile. When I’m bare beneath him, I shiver—not from cold, but from anticipation.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and the way he says it makes me believe it. My hands reach for his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, and he helps me, undressing himself quickly.
When his skin meets mine, I let out a soft and high sigh. My fingers trace the planes of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle. He’s beautiful too. But more than that, he’sreal. Solid. Safe.
