And it undoes me.
All at once, the rage fractures into something rawer, more dangerous than fury ever was. I soften my grip, let my thumbs trace the wet tracks her tears left behind, my mouth brushing over her temple in something that feels too much like tenderness.
“You’ll run yourself ragged trying to fight this,” I murmur, voice dipping lower, rougher. “But in the end, you’ll crawl back every time. Because this—” my chest crushes hers, the rhythm of our heartbeats uneven and desperate “—isn’t a choice. It’s a curse. And you’re mine until it kills us both.”
Her tears come again, quiet, steady, soaking into the fabric at my collar. But this time she doesn’t turn away. This time she lets herself sink into me, trembling in my arms like she already knows there’s no escaping.
Her breath rattles against my chest, small and uneven, like she’s not sure if she’s crying or choking. My shirt sticks to her face with tears, and every sound she makes feels like it threads a wire tighter through my ribs.
I should let go. I should step back, give her air, let her pretend she has control again.
But I can’t.
I drag my mouth down the side of her neck, not kissing, not biting—just pressing hard enough that she feels the weight of me, the claim I refuse to loosen.
“You think you scare easily?” I whisper against her skin, voice low, dangerous. “You don’t even know what fear is, Brooklyn. Not yet. Not until someone like me loves you.”
She flinches at the word, sharply and involuntarily. Her fingers twitch against my chest, like the sound carved straight into her nerves.
“Don’t—” she breathes, the word so fragile I almost don’t catch it. “Don’t say that.”
I grip her face again, harder, forcing her to meet me. Her eyes are still glassy, rimmed red, but she doesn’t look away. She can’t.
“You think it’s a choice?” I snarl, my forehead pressing to hers, voice breaking on the edges. “You think I haven’t tried to stop? I’ve burned women out of my life, torn down walls, drowned myself in everything this city offers—and none of it touches me. None of it matters.”
I pause, my chest rising and falling like I’m seconds from breaking apart. My thumb drags across her lower lip, smearing the salt of her tears.
“Then you walk in,” I whisper, softer now, ruined. “And suddenly I’m human enough to hurt again.”
Her breath catches, her lips part like she wants to tell me I’m wrong, that she doesn’t believe me—but nothing comes. Just a trembling silence that feels louder than any scream.
I press my mouth to her cheek, to the corner of her mouth, to the bruised swell of her jaw. Not kisses—confessions I don’t know how to voice.
“You scare me too,” I admit, and it tastes like blood to say it. “Because I’d burn everything I built, everything I am, just to keep you looking at me like this. And that kind of need?” I shake my head, teeth grazing her ear. “That’s lethal.”
Her hands fist tighter in my shirt, dragging me closer even as fresh tears streak down her face.
I let them.
Because this—her trembling, me unravelling—isn’t weakness. It’s the truth stripped bare. And if it kills us, so be it.
Her nails bite through my shirt. She doesn’t realise she’s doing it—digging in like she needs to anchor herself, like if she lets go I’ll disappear into smoke.
I don’t move. I let her hold me like that because, for the first time in years, I feel like I’m not made of stone.
“You want the truth?” I rasp, voice low, raw. “Here it is.”
I cup her jaw, not gentle, not cruel—just unyielding. I force her to look at me even though her eyes are still swimming.
“I built my life on control. Deals. Power. Every move calculated. I don’t lose. I don’t break.” My thumb presses harder against her chin, my breath hot against her trembling mouth. “But you… you undo me with one look. One fucking tear. Do you know what that means, Brooklyn?”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Just a shake of her head.
“It means I can’t let you go,” I snarl, the sound almost feral. “It means I’d rather burn Club Z to the ground, slit Rafe’s throat with my own hands, and ruin everything I’ve built than risk losing you to the world that wants to chew you up.”
Her chest jerks with a sob. She tries to twist from my grip, but I cage her tighter, pinning her against the wall of the alley with the weight of my body.
“You don’t fit in my world?” I hiss, dragging my mouth close to hers. “Then I’ll tear my world apart until there’s nothing left but you in it.”
