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The lie tears through us both, gutting me just as much as it shatters her.
Her face crumples. “That’s not true.” The light drains from her eyes, replaced by complete devastation that nearly breaks my resolve. “You’re lying.”
“Believe what you want.”
Anger flares through her tears. “You think pushing me away makes this easier? You think it fixes anything?”
“It keeps you alive.”
“For how long? Until you kill someone else for looking at you the wrong way?” Her voice falters, fury mixing with grief. “You destroyed everything good in you because you think that’s what men like you are supposed to do.”
That one hits deep. Too deep.
Outside, the rain starts again, faintly pattering on broken glass. The smell of wet earth drifts through the shattered window.
“Like killing your father?” I say quietly. No inflection. Just truth floating between us.
She regards me as if I’m a stranger in a familiar body. “Why?”
Though I didn’t kill him, she believes I did. I can see it in her eyes. Maybe it’s better this way. Give her a monster to hate. A reason to leave and never glance back. A reason to find the life she deserves, far from men like me.
“Your father deserved to die.”
She shakes her head and backs away, her voice trembling. “You’re confirming every warning I ignored.”
“Then you should’ve listened.” I spin toward the doorway.
Her voice trails after me, small but piercing. “Do you even love me?”
The answer hangs on the tip of my tongue. Yes. More than anything. You’re the only worthy thing I’ve ever had.
The real answer stays buried. A colder one comes out. “Not anymore.”
Her sob echoes through the hall as I retreat, nearly bringing me to my knees. My chest splits open, my throat closing until I can barely breathe. Every inch away from her feels like dying. Like tearing out my own heart and leaving it bleeding on the floor.
But I continue walking. Force myself not to turn around. Not to run to her and undo every word.
Because if I stay, she’ll die. They’ll use her against me. Hurt her to hurt me.
This is the only way she stays safe.
Even if it destroys us both.
Outside, the harsh rain pummels my skin, mixing with blood until I can’t distinguish the two.
Marco waits by the gate with the car, watching silently as I climb in. He doesn’t ask what happened because he probably doesn’t need to. He has eyes and enough sense to know I’m not in the mood for chitchat.
As we drive back to the estate, the road stretches ahead, slick and endless. Wind whips through the half-open window, carrying the scent of burned powder and storm.
My fingers brush against the lighter in my pocket. Her lighter. I pull it out. Flick it open. The flame catches, steady and defiant against the wind.
For a long moment, I just watch it.
The flame hisses when the rain hits it but doesn’t go out.
“If love made me weak,” I murmur, my voice swallowed by thunder, “maybe hate will keep me alive.”
I snap the lighter shut.
