“You’re not alone,” is what I whisper instead. “You’re not.”
His breath stutters, but I hold him tighter.
And if I cry into his shoulder, neither of us mentions it.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “God, Kai, I’m so sorry.”
His fingers tighten slightly. The only answer I get, and it’s not much. Barely anything at all. But it’s something. It’s enough.
Enough to tell me he’s still here.
Enough to break my heart all over again.
The world did this to him. They turned Kai Steele into a product before he could ever be a person. Fame didn’t make him, it unmade him.
Beautifully.Brutally.
I close my eyes.
I would scream for him if I thought it would help. I would destroy every pedestal they ever built for him if it meant he could have one peaceful breath.
But I can’t give him peace.
All I can give him is this.
Him leaning on me, me holding him. And for a moment, that’s how we stay. Until I feel his hand shift. Not away. Not toward me. Just… up.
Slowly, he lifts it from where it’s rested, blood-slicked and shaking, and his fingers brush my neck. Gentle at first, but then they slide higher, just beneath the base of my skull.
They stop there. Pause. Then press.
Hard.
Pain sparks down my spine, and my vision tilts. The pressure is sharper now, not just discomfort.
“Kai—” I whisper, confused, breathless, “that hurts.”
But his grip only tightens.
I try to pull back—to see his face, to understand—but my limbs feel slow, like they’re detached from me.
His hand is still at the base of my skull, steady, forcing my balance forward. And then there’s a shift—just the faintest brush at my side, like a tug or a press near my pocket.
Somewhere above me, I hear his voice. It’s quiet, almost tender.
“I really did like you, you know.”
The last thing I see are Christian and Liam’s horrified faces, before everything goes dark.
Kai
There’s a beat of stillness after I press my fingers to the base of her skull. And then she crumples. I catch her before she hits the ground, and lower her gently, but my chest is tight.
It shouldn’t be. This was the only way.
I barely have time to let go before Christian shoves me back and grabs a fistful of my shirt, dragging me upright. His eyes are wide, terrified, and furious. It makes him look like someone else entirely.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
