Page 61 of Cruel Submission

The word sounds foreign in my mouth. I don’t apologize. Not to anyone.

She looks up at me. Those deep brown eyes searching my face for answers I can’t give.

“Distracted,” she repeats. Not a question. An accusation.

I need to let go. Need to step back, put distance between us, maintain the walls I’ve been building since this whole mess started.

But the feel of her—soft where I’m hard, warm where I’m cold—wakes something in me that I’ve been trying to bury.

On impulse, I pull her closer and kiss her.

For one second—maybe two—she melts into it. Her mouth opens under mine, her body softens, and I taste her and need and everything I’ve been denying myself for weeks.

Then she tenses.

Her hands push against my chest. Not hard, but firm.

“No, Arkady.”

I release her immediately. Step back.

She’s breathing hard. Cheeks flushed in the dim light.

But her eyes are steel.

“I’m done with this bullshit.”

The words hit me in the chest.

“Mirabel—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “I’m done. You pull me close, then push me away. You fuck me like I matter, then disappear for days. You won’t tell me what’s wrong, won’t let me in, won’t give me anything except scraps of yourself when you feel like it.”

Her voice cracks. Just slightly.

Just enough.

“I deserve better than this,” she says. “And if you can’t give it to me, then stop. Just… stop.”

That thing in my chest twists. Spreads. Something that makes me want to tell her everything—about Debra, about Gavriil, about the war I’m preparing to fight and why I’ve been keeping her at arm’s length even though every instinct screams to pull her closer.

That terrifies me.

Because the last time I felt anything close to this, Mishka ended up dead.

I can’t do this. Can’t let whatever this is take root. Can’t risk destroying her the way I destroy everything I—

No.

I slam the thought down. Bury it.

This is practical. Strategic. I’m keeping distance because it’s safer for her. Because Gavriil is closing in and she’s exactly the kind of leverage he’d use against me. Because telling her about Debra will break her, and I won’t do that until her sister can handle the kind of joyful reunion they both deserve.

That’s all this is.

Nothing more.

I open my mouth to say something—anything—that will fix this without exposing the truth.