Something raw, almost human, flashes behind his eyes. But it’s gone just as fast.
He grits his teeth. “Don’t be naïve.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His hand moves fast: up, around my jaw, fingers pressing just enough to make me stop talking. His touch isn’t cruel, but it’s firm. Unyielding.
“You’re smarter than this, Mara.”
“Smarter than what?” I shoot back, the words muffled against his grip. “Smarter than falling for someone who only knows how to push people away?”
His eyes harden. “Enough.”
“No,” I whisper, the word trembling. “You don’t get to shut me out and call it being logical.”
I expect him to yell, to walk out, to end it like he always does. But instead, he lets out a slow breath and releases me. His handdrops; his gaze drifts to the floor. When he speaks again, his voice sounds tired. Human.
“It’s easier to push you away. To make you hate me.”
The words hit differently this time. There’s something beneath them. Something heavy and unsaid.
I swallow. “Easier than what?”
He looks up then, and the silence stretches until I can barely stand it.
Finally, he says, “Than letting you get hurt.”
I don’t speak. I can’t. He turns away, walking to the window. His reflection in the glass looks like a stranger, all sharp edges and shadows.
“Danger is constant in my world. Every enemy I’ve ever made is waiting for a weakness. And if they find it, they’ll go for the throat.”
“Me,” I whisper.
He nods once, but doesn’t look at me. “I can’t have it be you.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“I’m not.”
“Why not?” My voice cracks. “Because you might feel something real for once?”
He doesn’t answer. The silence is enough.
The tears start before I can stop them—hot, angry, unwanted.
“God, you make it sound so simple,” I say, my words shaking. “Like this is a choice. Like I can just switch it off and pretend none of it mattered.”
“You can,” he says quietly. “You just don’t want to.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Nothing about this is.”
I laugh once, bitter and broken. “You’re right. It’s not.” Then, quieter, “I thought maybe you’d fight for me. Just once.”
He closes his eyes, exhales. “Your brother’s coming in three days.”
It takes a second for me to process it. “What?”
