And I hated it. Hated that she was crying. Hated that she'd seen this side of me. Hated that she was looking at me like I was exactly the monster everyone said I was.
Because maybe I was. Maybe there was no difference between me and my father except that I had slightly more flexible boundaries.
But those boundaries existed because of people like her. People who made me want to be something better than what I was raised to be.
Even if she'd never see it that way now.
Back at the estate, Aria bolted from the car the second it stopped. Ran inside without looking back.
I let her go. Let her escape to her room where she could process what she'd seen.
I went to my own room, stood under the shower spray, watching blood circle the drain. The water turned from red to pink to clear, but I couldn't wash away the look in her eyes.
Horror. Disgust. Fear.
She'd seen the real me now. Not the guy from the club who'd been gentle with her. Not the man who held her when she cried. The enforcer. The monster who put bullets in people without hesitation.
And she hated me for it.
I should have felt nothing. Should have accepted it as necessarycollateral damage. This was who I was. What I did. She needed to see it eventually.
But all I felt was a hollow ache in my chest where something softer used to exist.
I got dressed in clean clothes. Told myself to leave her alone. To give her space to hate me properly.
My feet carried me to her room anyway.
I stood outside her door for a full minute, my hand raised to knock, arguing with myself.
This was stupid. She'd just seen me shoot someone. She was probably terrified of me.
I knocked anyway.
She opened the door, eyes red from crying. The sight of her—so broken, so scared made something in my chest crack.
"Are you okay?"
"No." Her voice was raw. "I'm not okay. I'm trapped in this nightmare and I don't know how to wake up."
I shouldn't have stepped inside. Shouldn't have closed the door behind me. Shouldn't have reached for her.
But I did all of those things because apparently I was weak when it came to Aria Romano.
I pulled her into my arms, and she broke.
The sobs shook her entire body. She fisted her hands in my shirt, held on like I was the only solid thing in a world that kept shifting beneath her feet.
And maybe I was. Maybe I was both the danger and the shelter. The monster and the protector.
My hand stroked her hair, slow and gentle. My other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, whispered words I shouldn't say.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry you had to see that. But you needed to know. You needed to understand what this world really is."
She pulled back slightly, looked up at me with those tear-stained eyes. And something shifted between us, with somethingthat had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the connection we'd been fighting since that first night.
I should have stepped back. Should have left her room. Should have maintained the distance that kept us both safe.
Instead, I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away tears.
