My hands flew up, palms flattening against his bare chest, instinctively creating distance. Chest-to-chest felt too exposed, too intimate, too dangerous. His skin was cold from the rain—but beneath it, heat burned steady and real. His heartbeat thudded beneath my hands, strong and unyielding, proof of a life that refused to stop.
His arms closed around me.
Not crushing.
Not possessive.
Almost hesitant.
As if he didn’t trust himself to hold another human being without breaking them.
“I’ll take you home,” he murmured into my wet hair.
I shook my head against his sternum, tears spilling freely now, indistinguishable from rain.
“It’s too late.”
I turned my face just enough to look past his shoulder. The grave behind him was nearly full, black water spilling over the edges, creeping across our feet like something alive.
“You wanted me dead,” I whispered, my voice splitting open. “And now... I’ll die.”
I tried to pull away.
He wouldn’t let me.
“Petros will be here soon,” he said quietly, with a certainty that bordered on faith. As though the world bent to his expectation.
I didn’t believe him.
The cold was unbearable now. My shivers turned violent, full-body spasms that stole my breath.
My lungs burned with every inhale, sharp and tight, panic fluttering at the edges of an oncoming asthma attack.
Memories surged again—hands pinning me down, the weight of a body I couldn’t fight, the therapist’s turned back, the scream trapped forever inside my chest.
I pressed my forehead harder against Ruslan’s chest, seeking warmth, seeking something solid to keep me here.
“I regret... the day I was born,” I whispered. “E-Every-Everything hurts.”
He didn’t answer.
But his arms tightened—just enough.
Not to trap me.
To hold me together.
The rain kept falling.
Thunder rolled overhead, low and endless, as though the sky itself were breaking open in grief.
My knees buckled without warning.
One moment I was upright—barely—and the next my legs simply... gave up. Strength drained from them like blood from an open vein. I didn’t even have time to brace myself.
He caught me.
Strong arms scooped me up before I could hit the ground, lifting me effortlessly into his chest. One arm slid beneath my knees, the other cradled my back, pulling me close in a carry that felt surreal—almost obscene—after everything that had happened here.
