He followed my gaze with a brief, assessing glance before returning his attention to me. There was no regret in his expression, no hesitation, only the steady resolve of someone who would make the same choice again.
“What was necessary,” he replied evenly.
“You didn’t have to destroy all of them,” I said, my voice quieter now, less frantic and more stunned as the scale of it fully sank in. His jaw flexed once, and it was the kind of movement that spoke of resolve rather than rage.
“I will not have you uncomfortable in my home,” he stated firmly, and there was a steel beneath the calm that left no room for argument.
“Not for decor, nor any other meaningless indulgence…not for anything.”The authority in his tone wasn’t for show but something deeply personal.
Before I could process that fully, he bent and lifted me in one fluid motion, one arm sliding beneath my knees while the other secured my back. The sudden shift in height stole the rest of my breath, my hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders as the floor dropped away.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he instructed firmly, as though there was no room for hesitation.
Still dazed, I obeyed, my fingers threading into the fabric at his collar. He adjusted his hold slightly to ensure my weight was balanced before stepping forward into the rubble without hesitation.
“If you don’t wish to see the remains, avert your eyes now,” he added as he began to move, and I tried not to look, I really did.
But despite the warmth of his chest beneath my cheek and the steadiness of his stride, my gaze flickered over his shoulder. The marble had not merely fallen. It had been obliterated. Smaller fragments crunched faintly under his shoes, the sound of stone shifting aside as though even the debris yielded to his passage. Dust lingered in faint shafts of chandelier light, turning the air pale and hazy in places where statues had once stood immaculate.
It was as if he hadn’t just made a path, but more like he had cleared a history. My arms tightened slightly around his neck as the weight of that knowledge settled over me. He carried me as though I weighed nothing at all, his steps unhurried, the strength in him undeniable and unstrained.
“Why?” I asked quietly, my voice no longer shaking, though the uncertainty still clung to it.
He didn’t answer straight away, instead, his hold on me shifted. Tightening almost imperceptibly as he stepped over a fractured slab of stone. Now drawing me closer against his chest as though the world itself were something he needed to shield me from. One of his hands spread more securely along my back, his thumb moving in a slow, absent stroke between my shoulder blades, soothing me.
“There will not be a single thing in my home that makes you afraid or uncomfortable,” he said at last, his velvet voice close enough that I felt the vibration of it beneath my cheek where it rested against him. His thumb traced once more along my spine before he continued,
“Not if I can remove it.”
The weight of what he had done pressed in again as my eyes scanned the destruction once more.
“But I could have just closed my eyes, so why…?”
He shook his head, cutting me off by reminding me,
“Because you asked me if there was another way.”
The simplicity of his answer struck harder than any grand declaration could have, but he wasn’t finished.
“And I would do anything you asked of me,” he continued, his voice softening into something both intimate and unyielding.
My heart stuttered at that.
Anything.
That single word clung to me until I let it out in the form of a question.
“Then you’ll let me go,” I said before I could stop myself.
The reckless words fell between us like a heavy weight crashing to the floor. And for the briefest moment, something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. Something not born from anger or surprise. But more like…
A warning.
His thumb traced once more along my spine in a gentle sweep, as though I had asked for something trivial instead of the one thing he would never surrender. I knew that when he replied with a simple, yet soft,
“No.” As if this were final.
His gaze held mine as he spoke again, and though his touch remained tender, there was nothing uncertain in him now, telling me he had limits to what he would grant me.
