She waits, hand spread over my heart, and I find myself giving her what I’ve never given anyone.
“There was someone,” I say, words slow, each one pulled from deep inside. “Before all this. Before I became… what I am now.”
She says nothing, just strokes her thumb across my skin in a silent invitation to go on.
“We were young. I thought I could keep her safe, keep the world at bay. I believed that, because I loved her, nothing could touch us. Then came an ambush—Ivan’s men. We were supposed to be meeting a friend. It was a trap. I was shot. She…” My throat tightens, the old agony raw and undiminished by time. “She was killed. In front of me.”
I force the rest out, jaw clenched. “I held her while she bled out. I tried to stop the bleeding, but it was everywhere. She died with my name on her lips, and I swore I would never let myself care again. Not like that. Not ever.”
Clara’s fingers tighten over my heart. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t whisper useless comforts. She just listens, her presence steady and unwavering. There is no pity in her gaze, onlyunderstanding, and something softer that wounds and heals in equal measure.
“I killed every man who had a hand in it,” I continue, voice low, barely more than a growl. “Vengeance didn’t bring her back. It just… hollowed me out. Made me colder. Every woman since—everybody since—was just… business. Distraction. Until you.”
She leans forward, pressing her lips to the scar on my shoulder, her hair brushing my chest. “I’m not her, Lukyan.”
“I know,” I say, my hand rising to cup her cheek. “You’re not. With you… I can feel again. It terrifies me.”
Her breath catches. “I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.”
A silence settles, deep and clean, like rain after fire. I wrap my arms around her, drawing her close, letting the heat and shape of her body soothe some ancient hurt I’ve carried too long. She lays her head over my heart, her palm splayed against my skin, as if she could anchor me to the world.
Something shifts in the hush between us. I feel it in the steadiness of her breathing, the weight of her trust as she lets her eyes flutter shut. There is no demand here, no negotiation. Only the quiet fact of her presence.
I watch her, stroking my fingers through her hair, unable to look away. The old armor I wear—violence, ruthlessness, calculation—cracks and falls away in the soft press of her body. I feel exposed, stripped bare, dangerously human. The room feels smaller, safer, as if nothing outside its walls could harm us.
I know better. I know what love costs a man in my world.
Still, with Clara’s head resting over my heart, the fear and longing twine together so tight it almost hurts. She senses the change in me—her eyes flicker open, searching my face in the shadows.
“Why did you tell me that?” she whispers, voice raw with sleep and something more. “Why now?”
I hesitate. Words are foreign things on my tongue, but I owe her the truth. “Because I’ve never wanted to hide anything from you, not really. If something happened to me, I’d want you to know why I am the way I am.”
She brushes her fingertips across my chest, tracing the old scars, her brow furrowed in thought. “I thought I understood. The violence. The walls. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
I nod, letting the silence answer for a moment. “Losing her… it changed me. I stopped caring. Or I tried to. I thought it would keep me alive. Then you came here, and I started to feel again. It’s—” I break off, breath shuddering. “It’s dangerous, Clara.”
She props herself up, her hair spilling over my skin. “For who? For you, or for me?”
I reach up, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Both of us. Anyone who matters to me is a target. You saw that last week.”
Her hand covers mine, gentle but insistent. “I’m not afraid of them. Not if you’re with me.”
The admission cracks something open inside me. “You should be. You should run from me. I could be your ruin.”
She shakes her head, gaze steady. “Maybe. But maybe you could be my beginning too. You’re not the only one who’s lost something, Lukyan.”
We lie there, her head tucked beneath my chin, the space between us finally filled with truth. My arms tighten around her. The weight of the past eases, just enough for me to breathe.
“We’ll face it together,” she whispers. “Whatever comes.”
I tighten my hold on her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re braver than you think,” I murmur, feeling her smile against my chest. She sighs, letting her body settle into mine, tension ebbing from her limbs.
“Maybe,” she says softly, “but I’m terrified too. Of what I feel for you, and of what this could cost us.”
I can’t answer right away. I don’t have promises I can keep—not in this world, not with these enemies circling closer each day. I want to give her something real, something true.
“I can’t promise safety,” I tell her. “I’ll fight for you. As long as I breathe.”
