He held me.
That was the most disturbing part. He held me like I was something precious, his arms wrapped around me, his chin resting on my head. He stroked my hair, murmured soft things, let me cry against his chest.
This was not the Nathan I knew. This was someone else entirely—someone who had been buried deep, covered by layers of anger and ambition and pain.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"This." I gestured at us, at the room, at the impossible tenderness of the moment. "You don't comfort people. You destroy them."
"Maybe I don't want to destroy you."
"Why not?"
He was quiet for a long moment. The room was dark, the only light coming from the window, the moon casting silver shadows across the bed.
"Because you're the first person who ever made me feel like I could be something other than what I am." His voice was barely a whisper. "When I'm with you, I forget about the empire. I forget about my father. I forget about everything. And that scares me more than anything else."
"Nathan..."
"I know I'm broken. I know I'm not good for you. But I can't let you go. I can't."
He pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. I felt his shoulders shake, and I realized he was crying. Nathan Mire, the eldest son, the heir to an empire built on blood—crying like a child.
I held him.
I didn't know what else to do.
We stayed like that for hours.
The moon moved across the sky. The shadows shifted across the walls. I listened to his breathing slow, felt his body relax against mine. He fell asleep, his arms still wrapped around me, his head still resting on my chest.
I watched him sleep. His face was younger in repose, the lines smoothed away, the sharp edges softened. He looked like the boy he'd been before the empire had claimed him.
I almost believed him.
Almost.
Then I remembered the warehouse. The cages. The women in the corner who looked at me with empty eyes and asked for nothing because they'd already given up asking.
I remembered who he was. Who his father was. What they'd built.
And I felt the warmth of his embrace turn cold.
I slipped out of his arms and stood by the window.
The mansion stretched out below me—the gardens, the greenhouse, the gate that led to the city. Somewhere out there, Gabriel was starting a new life. A life without me. A life that would heal him.
And I was still here, trapped in the web of two men who wanted to consume me.
"Monika."
I turned. Nathan was awake, sitting up in bed, his eyes dark and watchful.
"You're thinking about leaving."
"I was thinking about how you brought me here for comfort. And I almost believed you."
