My heart pounds in my chest as I inspect the five small, silver daggers. Removing one from the silk bed it rests on, I examine the exquisite workmanship with a lump in my throat. The handle of each dagger contains an image of an avenging angel etched into the ornate metal.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper, holding the dagger in the palm of my hand, testing its weight, as I lift my eyes to Galen’s.
Something close to relief flares in his eyes. “The minute I saw them I thought of you.”
My lips kick up. Most guys buy girls chocolate or flowers, but Galen knows me better than I realized. It’s a thoughtful gesture and the perfect icebreaker.
But if we’re truly going to get past this, I need to know he’s all in.
“I wonder how sharp they are,” I muse, keeping my eyes locked on his gorgeous green ones.
“Sharp enough to inflict pain,” he coolly replies.
I look down at the thin, raised scars covering both parts of my upper arms. “I still remember how much it hurt,” I admit. “I had this one recurring nightmare, the first couple years after the kidnapping, where my kidnappers broke into my bedroom and sliced open my wounds repeatedly.” I lift my eyes to his face. “Their faces were blacked out. All except Sinner’s, although I didn’t know who he was back then. His face haunted me in my sleep for so long.”
A heavy weight sits on my chest, compressing my air supply. “I used to wake up screaming,” I continue, “holding on to my arms because they throbbed like a bitch. It wasn’t imaginary pain because it felt so real.” I shoot him a sad smile. “The mind is such a powerful organ. So susceptible to suggestion.”
I lift the dagger, staring at Galen as I press the tip of the dagger against the topmost mark on my left arm, maintaining eye contact as I cut a line across the existing scar. Blood rushes to the surface immediately, pooling along my skin and trickling down my arm.
“Jesus. Fuck.” Galen drags his hands through his hair, staring at me wide-eyed.
“The hypnosis therapy I underwent helped me heal. The nightmares reduced in regularity until they disappeared completely. It took me a long time to realize it isn’t physical pain I’m scared of. It’s emotional.” I drill him with a determined look as blood flows down my arm. “I could cut through every one of these scars, opening old wounds, and it wouldn’t hurt me. Not the way you did when you handed me off to the enemy to kill.”
“Lo, I—”
I clamp my free hand over his mouth. “Don’t interrupt me.” His nostrils flare, and I smile as a glimpse of the real Galen peeks through. “If I’m to forgive you, it means exposing my heart, making myself vulnerable to you, and that’s a far scarier prospect. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re worthy of that?” Taking his hand, I flip it palm up before placing the dagger coated with my blood on it. “Would you bleed for me, Galen?” I wrap his fingers around the knife. “Would you cut yourself open for me?” I lean into his face, pressing my lips to his ear. “Would you trust me to take that knife and slice into your skin?”
He takes my hand and places the bloody dagger in it. “Yes, I would bleed for you, Lo.” A muscle clenches in his jaw. “I would die for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the reason everything makes sense. You are the only truth amid all the secrets and lies. The glue that binds us together. The substance to our purpose.” He gulps, reaching up to cup my face with bloody fingertips. “You’re not the only one scared of emotional pain. Why do you think I went to such lengths to push you away? I’m not talking about what went down with Dar. I mean everything that came before that made me vulnerable to his manipulation. I’ve seen what you can do. I’ve known how that would change our dynamic, and it fucking terrified me.”
He rubs his thumb along my cheek. “I was a coward, and I took the coward’s way out.” He drops his hand from my face, wrapping my fingers around the handle of the dagger. “No one would blame you for retaliating, but I know you won’t do that because you are better than me. You confront your pain head-on while I bury mine deep in my blackened soul.”
“Oh, Galen.” I kiss his cheek. “Your soul isn’t black. It’s every shade of gray. And that’s something I understand.”
“I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m asking for one,” he says. “I was afraid you’d tear us apart, but I was wrong because you’re bringing us together in a way that is making us stronger. You’re the center of my brothers’ universe, and I want you to be the center of mine.” He clasps my cheeks in his palms, and his face radiates sincerity.
“Are you ready to give me your full truth? To commit to always being honest with me?”
“I am, Lo. I desperately want a second chance, and I’m asking for forgiveness if you can find it in your heart.” He glances at the dagger. “Does that answer your questions?”
“Take your hoodie off,” I instruct.
He stands, removing his hoodie and yanking his T-shirt up over his head, throwing both items of clothing on the floor. Bruises cover his ribs—a very real reminder of his shame and his pain.
I rise with blood pouring down my arm, dripping onto the carpet. I stand directly in front of him, looking up at his stunning face. He is shielding nothing now, and I have hope this will be all right. “I think you and I are the most alike, Galen. It’s one of the reasons we butt heads so much.”
It’s true even with the connection I share with the others.
Saint knows pain but he doesn’t bury it—he lashes out, and he vents in a physical way. Theo knows pain too, but he throws himself into his work to alleviate his feelings of failure. If Caz is in any pain, he does a fantastic job hiding it behind his legendary humor.
But Galen has succumbed to his pain, and it’s eating him alive in a way the pain used to eat me alive until I learned to control it.
They all need me, but in this moment, I acknowledge Galen needs me more.
I’m not sure I can be who he needs me to be, but I want to try, and that is a huge step forward.
