The truth of it settles between us, heavy and absolute.No one else.Not since Serena.Not even the thought of someone else.
Then another realization hits, harder than the first.
My fist connects with the coffee table before I’m consciously aware of deciding to punch anything.Pain explodes through my knuckles, but it’s nothing compared to the fury burning through my veins.
“Motherfucker had eyes on us.”
“That much I realized then.”Serena’s face goes pale, then red, emotions cycling too fast to process.“My father used the drones I designed to spy on me, on us.But it wasn’t me in the video.It was an employee of Crimson Velvet?—”
“No way,” I say flatly.
“Son of a bitch.”She’s on her feet now, pacing, hands clenched into fists.“Deepfakes.They used footage from the surveillance system, plus her image captured at the club or some social event, to generate a fake video.Different woman, same movements, same positions.”She stands in front of me, fists on her hips, her cheeks flaming red.“I should have recognized the inconsistencies.I’m the fucking expert, and I fell for a cheap manipulation because?—”
“Because you were chained to a bed in the dark without food or water.”I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her onto my lap.“Because your father was systematically trying to destroy you.Because you were under duress.”
“I doubted you.”Her voice cracks, lacing her fingers behind my neck.“He showed me that video, and I doubted you.”
“Serena.”I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.“Take it easy on my wife.She was under too much pressure.”
Something in her expression crumbles.The walls she’s been rebuilding since her kidnapping, the armor she keeps adding layer by layer, all of it falls away.
I cup her face in my hands, careful of the fading bruises, and press my lips to her forehead, offering reassurance.A promise that we’re still here, fighting together.
“I told you once that I was terrified of what you were becoming to me,” I murmur against her hair.“I’m not terrified anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I already lost you once.Watched my entire life burn down while you were in that dungeon.And I realized that the fear of losing you is nothing compared to the reality of living without you.I’d rather be afraid by your side than safe and alone.”
Serena’s hand rises to cover mine on her cheek.Her fingers are warm now, steady.
“I never told you about Marco,” Serena says finally.“My cousin.My advisor.”
I hold her gaze.“I bumped into him over the years, but you never talked to me about him.”
“I trusted him, valued his advice, so I used to tell him everything.”Her voice is distant, remembering.“All my plans for the family operations.About my vision for our future and my dreams of having a more active role in my family’s legitimate business.I trusted him completely.”
“What happened?”
“He went to my father behind my back.Told him I was too emotional, too soft to handle real responsibility.Used every vulnerability I’d shared and turned it into a weapon against me.”Her jaw tightens.“I had to destroy him to survive.Had to prove I was harder and colder and more ruthless than anyone gave me credit for.”
“And you’ve been building walls ever since.”
She nods.“Trust equals betrayal.That’s what I learned.Every time I let someone in, they find a way to use it against me.”A smile breaks through, lighting up her face.“Except you.”
The words hang between us, fragile and precious.We’ve both been broken.We’ve both built fortresses around our hearts to keep from being broken again.But we’ve found our way through each other’s walls.Somehow.
I want to pull her close and never let go, but she’s not done talking.
“My father showed me that video to break me,” Serena says.“To make me believe you’d moved on.”She reaches up, traces the line of my jaw with her fingertips.“But even when I doubted everything else, I knew you wouldn’t betray the fight.I knew you were still hunting the people who killed your mother.That you’d still come for those women and children, even if you weren’t coming for me.”
“I was always coming for you.”My voice is rough.“I will always come for you.”
She kisses me then.Soft at first, tentative, like she’s testing whether this fragile thing between us can survive everything we’ve been through.When I respond, when my hand slides into her hair and my mouth opens against hers, the kiss deepens into something fiercer.Something that tastes like whiskey and tears and hard-won hope.
We don’t make it to the bedroom.The couch is close enough.We don’t undress fully, just enough to align my erection with her heat.But I’m careful with her, mindful of every bruise, every mark left by men who thought they could break her.
She’s not careful with me at all.Her nails rake down my back, her teeth find my shoulder, her body arches into mine with a desperation that matches the hunger burning in my chest.
