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“Nothing.” I drag my hand through my hair. “I was going to offer to meet with Marco, to lure him to a meeting. But we hadn’t planned anything yet.”

His eyebrow raises, and he draws in a deep breath. He’s trying, I’ll give him that much.

“It was a stupid idea. Dangerous, and the only excuse I have is I wanted to protect you. I wanted Alexander to be able to end the war with the DeAngelos so everything could go back to what it was before.”

His gaze settles on me. There’s a heaviness to it that wasn’t there before. It makes me wiggle in my seat, because I don’t know if he’s going to get up and walk out or if he’s going to devour me whole.

But for the first time I can truly admit to myself which one I want to happen.

More than anything, I want him to stay. To yell at me for being so reckless. To punish me for being so disobedient.

To love me because he can’t help it any more than I can stop my heart from beating for him.

“Can I tell you something else?” I ask softly when the silence tightens around my throat.

“Go on.” His voice dips. We’re in dangerous territory.

“When I was there, in that horrible place with those insane men…I wasn’t afraid.” I slide my feet back to the floor. “I knew you’d find me. It was completely illogical to believe that, considering where I was and how I’d gotten there, but I just knew.”

“Of course I would find you,” he says dryly.

“For the first time, in pretty much ever for me, I knew trusting you was safe. That you weren’t going to let me down. That I could believe myself when it came to you. Because you’d hadn’t told me you loved me to get anything from me.

“You didn’t tell me you loved me at all.” I swallow when my throat dries. “You just showed me. And I love you, Rurik. Real love, the sort that makes you unsure if you can breathe if the other person isn’t nearby. That sort of love.”

I heave a breath, feeling slightly lighter after having shoved off that boulder of a confession.

It’s silent in the room. When I swallow again, the sound of it fills my ears.

His gaze doesn’t move. Nothing does. He’s a statue.

After another moment passes, he pushes off the bed and gets to his feet. I straighten in the chair.

He blinks. Wipes his hand across his mouth and then turns on his heel.

The wall shakes when he slams the door.

I’m alone when I wake up the next morning. Rolling to my side, I slide my hand out across the bed feeling for Rurik’s heat.

The sheets are cold.

After a small pep talk, I convince myself to get out of bed, shower, and get dressed. I feel slightly more human as I comb my fingers through my hair. The bruise on my cheek is less purple and more yellowish today. It’s still ugly.

A phone is on the nightstand. It’s not the one I had when Mario grabbed me from the street; it’s a new one with a new number. But all my contacts are inside.

I say a silent thank you to Sasha, as I know he’s the onebehind it, and I fire off a text to Megan. She’s already sent me three this morning.

Is this how it would have been with Rurik? Every time there was some external threat, Megan and I would be put on lockdown and unable to even visit with each other?

Maybe it’s for the best I got all the signals wrong. Again.

After promising I’ll call her later, I make the bed and start pulling my clothes out of the closet. There’re no suitcases in the closet or under the bed, though, so I need to venture out of the bedroom to find one. My backpack isn’t around, either. Rurik probably had the damn thing burned; he hated it so much.

When I open the door, I walk straight into Rurik’s chest. I bounce back a step, and his big paw of a hand snags my arm, keeping me from falling straight onto my ass.

“Are you all right?” He questions the moment I’m steady.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I pull my arm from his grasp. “Were you just standing there waiting for me to try to leave?”