My mind spun. But would she stop fighting me if I showed her? Stop trying to escape? Would showing her my scars help her to trust me? To understand why she needed to stay here? With me?
Taking a deep breath, I calmed my thoughts. Then, with my eyes still closed, I unfastened the buttons of my shirt. I felt the weight of her stare crawling across every inch of skin I exposed. Heard her steady breathing now that her fit of laughter was over. Itried to concentrate on that. On her scent that filled the room. And tried not to think about what would happen when she saw. However, as more and more of my scars were revealed, I listened for her gasp of horror. For the pity that would fill her voice when she told me how sorry she was that this had happened to me.
But neither of those things happened. My shirt was open halfway to my navel when my hands stilled and I opened my eyes to find her staring at my bare chest with wide blue eyes. It was enough. I dropped my hands to my sides, where they tightened into fists.
Carefully, she stood on her bandaged feet and limped her way over to me until she was less than two feet away. Her eyes met mine before they dropped back down to my chest. She reached out her hand and I slammed into the bars behind me. “Don’t?—”
“I won’t touch you.”
Drawing in a ragged breath, I held perfectly still as she took the edge of my shirt between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it aside. I knew what she was seeing—burn scars where cigarettes had been extinguished on my skin, ragged pink welts where I was whipped with belts and chains, missing chunks of skin and muscle that had been cut out of me, and the jagged edged lines I’d left there myself with the dull edge of my knife. There was only the slightest catch in her voice when she asked, “What happened to you?”
Although I'd been expecting the question, it was a moment before I could speak. And when I did, my voice was strained. “It was part of my training.”
She frowned. “Training for what?”
“To be Luca’s personal guard.”
Her eyes met mine and my heart stopped, my breath freezing in my lungs. This close, the blue of her eyes, ringed with black, had wisps of cobalt deep within their depths, like threads of a story waiting to be told with every shared glance. And I wanted to know every single detail of that story.
“Do all of you have to go through this?”
Still lost in her eyes, I shook my head. “No. Just me.”
She broke eye contact, once again studying my scars, and I blinked hard a few times, sucking in air. “Why just you? Why not everyone?”
“I…” That was a question I used to ask myself often, but not anymore. “I don’t know. I was given to Luca’s father as a child, and he made me into what I am now.”
“A killing machine?”
“Someone who would give his life without thought to protect the boss’ son.” Her body’s proximity to mine was fucking with me. I felt trapped with the bars against my back. She was too close, and she smelled too good. My mouth watered to taste her, and my heart raced. Yet, at the same time, adrenaline flooded my system, urging me to run.
“What about you?” she asked, meeting my eyes again.
“Me?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah. Who protects you?”
I stared into her eyes, drowning in the depths as the horrors of my past fell away. I felt like she could see right through me, and I tore my eyes away before she discovered how truly depraved Iwas. “I don’t need protection. I’ve survived on my own for a long time.”
She tilted her head, her long midnight hair sliding to one side like strands of silk, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Survived? Or just existed?”
I hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability burning inside of me for just an instant before I extinguished it. “Does it matter?” I shifted against the bars, the cold steel reminding me of the harsh reality I lived in. A reality she didn’t belong in.
However, as she stared me down, I sensed a quiet understanding I hadn’t expected, a shared acknowledgment of the less than perfect pasts we’d both survived. “Needing someone to lean on doesn’t mean you’re weak, Tristan. It just means you’re human.”
A bitter smile teased the corners of my mouth. “In this world, leaning on someone gets you killed. If you want to survive, you can only count on yourself.”
Her eyes held mine, unwavering. “Maybe there’s more to life than just surviving.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She shrugged. “I’d like to. Wouldn’t you?”
The question lingered between us, like an unspoken challenge. And in that moment, the weight of my position in this life made my bones feel heavy. But breaking free from the chains that bound me was impossible. Nor would I want to, even if I could. I didn’t know anything else.
Yet, as she stared up at me with eyes that were far from innocent and somehow still full of hope, a seed of doubt took root in mymind. In the way she looked at me, I saw a glimpse of something I’d never allowed myself to believe in—a chance for redemption.
No. That was impossible. Not even a blue-eyed temptress who tasted like sin and had a heart large enough for the both of us could save me now.
