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“Don't tell me what I know.” I step closer, eliminating half the distance between us. “I'm not confused about this, Alex. I'm not some fragile victim who can't distinguish between comfort and desire. I’m a fucking monster just like the rest of my family…”

“You're not a monster,” Alex says, his voice low and certain. "A monster wouldn't feel the way you do. I’ve hunted them. Tracked them. Become them when necessary." His stare locks with mine, unflinching. “I know exactly what monsters look like, Vesper. And you're not one.”

“Then what am I?”

He studies my face, his attention drifting to my lips before returning to meet me again. “You're a survivor. A fighter. And right now, frustratingly tempting.”

I close the remaining distance between us, grabbing his shirt in my fists.

“Then stop resisting,” I challenge him.

Something snaps in Alex. I see it—the exact moment his control fractures. In a blink, his fingers tangle in my hair, tugging hard enough to sting, sharp and addictive. Then his mouth is on mine, crashing into me with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt—only need.

There's nothing gentle about it. His lips claim mine with bruising intensity, demanding rather than asking. I gasp againsthis mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine with skilled precision.

My back hits the wall—I don’t remember moving. Alex is on me in an instant, all sharp edges and restrained power. One hand slides from my hair to my jaw, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. The other clamps onto my hip, fingers pressing hard. A spark ignites low in my belly, pulsing with every breath.

I’m drowning in him. Thought, memory—everything blurs. The images from my captivity, the sound of those recordings, my father’s betrayal—it all dissolves beneath the relentless force of Alex’s mouth. There’s nothing but this: his body pinning mine, his lips claiming me like I belong to him.

When he finally breaks the kiss, we’re both breathless. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, leaving just a rim of icy blue. He doesn’t let go—one hand still cupping my jaw, the other gripping my hip like I might disappear if he loosens his hold.

“There are three other guys sitting feet away on the other side of that door who deserve this far more than I do.”

“That's not for you to decide,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. “It's about what I want.”

I pull him back to me, gentler this time, my lips brushing against his with deliberate slowness. His breath hitches, and I feel a tremor run through the fingers still gripping my hip.

“What about what you want, Alex?”

“What I want doesn't matter. Not when it comes to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're—” He cuts himself off, pulling back slightly to look at me. “Because you deserve better than this. Than me. I'm not like the others.”

“This isn't about them.”

He watches me close, searching for any kernel of doubt—anything that would give him reason to pull away. He won't findit. My mind has never been clearer than in this moment, pressed between Alex's body and the wall of his sanctuary.

“What is it about then?”

I consider lying, saying something simple about desire or distraction. But the intensity in his eyes demands honesty.

“Control,” I admit. “Taking it back. On my terms.” Understanding dawns in his expression. This isn't about comfort or even just desire—it's about reclaiming what was taken from me. My brother. My son. My fucking life. All of it. Building the power to keep us all safe. To prevent what happened to me, and what is now happening to Luca, from ever happening again.

Alex's fingers tighten in my hair, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me again. Instead, he carefully releases me and takes a deliberate step back. The cold air rushes between us, and I instantly miss his warmth.

“I want to give you that. But not like this. Not with…” He gestures toward the computer screens still displaying the evidence.

I look at the images, and something inside me deflates. He's right. The timing is all wrong, and suddenly I feel foolish for pushing this now, here, surrounded by images of my darkest moments.

“I understand,” I say quietly, smoothing down my shirt where his hands bunched the fabric.

“No, I don't think you do.” He takes a deep breath. “This isn't rejection, Vesper. This is...postponement.”

His locks onto me, and the intensity there makes my breath catch.

“I won’t do this. I won’t be your next distraction.” He steps closer again, close enough that I can feel his words against my skin when he speaks. “It will be because you want me. Just me. Nothing else between us.”