I deliberately tried keeping my expression neutral, though the corner of my mouth threatened to twitch.
She shot me a look, huffing like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’mhorriblystubborn. There. Happy?”
I let the silence stretch for a beat, enough to watch her squirm. My lips curled despite myself, almost breaking into a smile. “Getting there,” I said, the words laced with quiet amusement.
She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath, but I could still see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"I fell in love with him so fast," she admitted, something akin to regret lacing her words. "It consumed me. I thought it was everything." She hesitated, exhaling shakily before looking at me.
"But now… I don’t even know if it was real. Stephen achieved the impossible,” she said, tinged with bitterness. “He turned me into a weak victim, in need of saving. And he turned the darkest killer into a hero, to make us fall in love. And whereas my love for James was real, I don’t think his ever was.”
“Was? Your love was?” I couldn’t help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
She shrugged, looking lost. “Was. Is. I don’t know. I’m still too angry to pinpoint exactly how I feel about him. I can’t trust him, and ironically, he still doesn’t trust me. That’s not a great base for a relationship.”
I watched her, the war in her eyes, the way she fought against the her own emotions.
"Sounds like it wasn’t only Stephen who turned you weak," I said, quieter than I intended.
She glanced at me and straightened, all tension and armor—anger, maybe, or just the truth hitting a little too hard.
"James wasn’t perfect," she snapped, her voice edged with frustration, "but he didn’t have to be. All I needed from him was…"
She exhaled slowly, then looked down at the ground.
I nudged her gently, urging her forward. "Was what?"
Her gaze lifted to meet mine, and when I saw the unshed tears glistening, I nearly recoiled. Those crystalline drops threatened to unravel something inside me, a feeling so visceral it clenched around my ribs like a vice.
A new kind of fury—one I hadneverfelt before—unfurled in my chest, dark and almost primal. A silent promise took shape in my mind, a vow toobliterateevery single person responsible for putting any kind of pain in her eyes. Including the undeserving bastard she was still hell-bent on defending.
“I needed his trust,” she admitted softly. “But I got his protection instead. Which is fine in a trainer-mentee dynamic—not so much in a romantic one.”
My jaw tightened, as her obvious pain stirred the hidden darkness inside me. “Want me to kill him?”
A choked laugh escaped her, the sound a strange mix of amusement and sorrow. As the first tear slipped free, I leaned in and caught it with my thumb, my hand trembling slightly—an involuntary reaction to seeing her so vulnerable.
She shook her head. "I’m actually quite capable of handling situations without resorting to murder."
I arched a brow. "That remains to be seen."
She let out another laugh, this one laced with exhaustion, before the sadness crept back in, dimming the light in her expression.
I couldn’t stand it.
I gripped her chin between my fingers and lifted her face, not roughly, but with enough pressure to demand her attention. I forced her to meet my eyes, to see the unshakable resolve burning in them. "I will end him," I vowed, my voice low, lethal. "With pleasure. The second you ask me to."
Her fingers curled around my own, a soft squeeze—warm, steady, grounding.
"I believe you," she whispered.
And then… Then she leaned in, barely, her body brushing against mine for the barest of moments before she pulled away.
It wasn’t a hug. It wasn’t even a conscious movement.
But it hit me like a fucking wildfire.
Because that single, fleeting gesture told me something far more important than words ever could—after everything we’d been through, she felt safe enough to be close to me.
