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She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “And what’s my reason?”

My jaw tightens. She doesn’t understand. But how could she? How could anyone?

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, the words heavier than I expected. “Just go to bed.”

Her lips part like she wants to argue, but nothing comes out.

Within minutes, she’s asleep, her breathing slow and even. I sit at the edge of the bed, watching her. There’s a part of me that wants to walk away, to leave her to fend for herself the way I’ve always done with everyone else. Attachments are liabilities. That’s the rule—the only rule that has kept me alive this long.

But there’s another part—a quieter, more dangerous part—that wants to stay. To watch over her. To keep her safe, even if it means breaking every rule I’ve ever lived by.

It’s a weakness, no matter how I spin it. And in this world, weakness gets you killed.

She shifts in her sleep, her face relaxing. For the first time since I met her, she looks peaceful. It’s unsettling.

I reach for the lamp and turn it off, plunging the room into darkness.

****

I wake a couple of hours later to find myself on the bed with my arms around her and her back pressed to me. I can’t believe we’re fucking spooning. What the hell is happening to me?

I stare at the ceiling for a moment, my mind racing. This isn’t who I am. I’ve built walls, ones that have kept me alive. But here she is, tearing them down without even trying.

Carefully, I start to pull away, trying not to wake her, but my hand grazes her side in the process. She stirs, shifting in my arms, and then she turns to face me.

God, she’s beautiful.

Hazel eyes flecked with gold look at me, their intensity making my head spin. She has fair skin dusted with faint freckles across her nose and a small scar on her left temple, faint but there, from some childhood accident she mentioned once. Also, paint stains her hands, remnants of the world she creates.

And those lips…I’d do anything to kiss them right now. But no, not now. She’s still shaken, still vulnerable from everything.

I swallow hard, kicking those thoughts away. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” I mutter, my voice lower than I intended.

“It’s fine,” she says softly.

I don’t move, but she does—a subtle shift, her body leaning closer. It’s almost imperceptible, as though she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Her hair clings to her cheeks, still damp, framing her face in a way that makes her look even more delicate.

“Why are you staring?” she whispers, her voice cracking just enough to betray what’s beneath her calm.

“Am I?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, I see it—the crack in her armor, the vulnerability she doesn’t let anyone else see. I should stop this. I should pull back and put some distance between us before I do something I can’t take back.

“I have to tell you something,” I say, the words heavy in my mouth.

“Okay.”

I hesitate for a brief moment before saying, “The old lady you went to see…she didn’t make it.”

Her eyes widen, and the color drains from her face. “Oh my God.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice softer now, but it still feels like sandpaper in the silence. “I’m going to find whoever did it, I promise. And when I do…” My voice hardens, my resolve solidifying. “I’ll bring you their head on a platter.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The tension between us is electric, a live wire humming just beneath the surface, ready to snap and spark.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.