“I’ll tell you,” I whisper, fingers curling tight against the steel. "Only… not tonight."
My voice fractures on the last word.
On the other side, his palm presses harder to the door—right over mine, like it belongs there.
“In that case, I'll wait,” he says.
No threat.No pressure.No demand.
A vow he is not supposed to make to a girl like me.
And that—not the chamber, not the darkness, not the memory of my father’s final breath—
Is what terrifies me most.
Because for the first time in my life, I’m more afraid of breaking someone else than I am of being broken.
Santino Forgives Her… Before Hearing the Sin
My fingers curl against the cold steel before I realize I’ve moved.
Not deliberate.Not brave.
Instinct.
The way you reach for air when you’re drowning.
I press my palm to the door and freeze when I feel his answer instantly—his hand already there, already waiting, like he’s been holding the place open for me.
“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” I whisper.
The words rake my throat raw. I expect them to die between us. I expect distance. Withdrawal. That careful, priestly hesitation I’ve been bracing for since the moment I let myself feel something real.
Instead—
Only his voice.
Low.Steady.
“I forgive you.”
My breath stutters so hard it hurts.
“You don’t even know what I’ve done,” I choke.
I press my forehead to the steel. It’s freezing, but I don’t care. If I move now, the truth might spill all the way out.
He answers without thinking.
“I don’t need to.”
My chest draws tight.
“I felt the truth in you,” he continues quietly. “Whatever you’re carrying—whatever you think will make me walk away—”
His knuckles touch the steel.
Once.
