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“A year ago, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted,” he says. “I had plans, levels, a whole system designed to break and remake you.”

“And instead?” I prompt, leaning into his touch.

“Instead, you broke me.” His voice catches, vulnerability flashing across his face. “You weren’t supposed to be real, Kira. You were supposed to be this fantasy I could mold and control completely.”

I take his hand in mine, studying the intricate lines of his tattoos and the strength of his fingers, which have hurt and healed me.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with my kidnapper,” I breathe. “But here we are.”

The jungle breathes around us, alive with night sounds and the flickering dance of candlelight. We’re both naked in this clearing—physically and emotionally, completely exposed to each other.

“Do you regret any of it?” I ask, suddenly needing to know.

Ryker considers this, his expression thoughtful. “I regret hurting you. I regret the fear I caused. But I don’t regret finding you. I don’t regret us.”

I nod, understanding exactly what he means. “We’re broken people who somehow fit together,” I say, setting down my glass and moving into his arms. “You showed me parts of myself I never knew existed. I showed you that possession isn’t the same as love.”

He pulls me against his chest. “You saved me, Mischief.”

The nickname makes me smile against his skin. “And you freed me, in your own twisted way.”

We sit together in the candlelight, two damaged souls who found healing in the most unexpected place—in each other. It’s not perfect. It’s not normal. But it’s ours, and somehow, that’s enough.

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