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“That depends,” I say carefully, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “On what you want.”

Kira’sface shifts into confusion, her brow furrowing as she processes my words. She looks between the screen and my face, searching for answers. The vulnerability in her eyes tugs at something deep inside me—a feeling I’m still learning to recognize.

“I don’t understand,” she whispers. “Where is he?”

I take her hands, feeling their slight tremble against my palms. “He’s being held securely. Not here, but somewhere no one will find him.”

Her confusion doesn’t fade. Time to show her exactly who I am—who I’ve always been beneath the careful masks.

“When I was younger,” I say, my voice eerily calm even to my ears, “I learned that some people don’t deserve second chances. Some people can’t be redeemed.”

I watch her eyes widen as I continue.

“I’ve arranged for him to disappear,Kira. Permanently. No trace. No questions. He’ll simply... cease to exist.” My grip tightens slightly around her hands. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do. Not after what he did to you.”

Kiradoesn’t pull away. Instead, she stands perfectly still, listening.

“I want him gone,” I continue, my voice dropping lower. “For you. For what he took from you.”

I watchKira’sface carefully. Her pupils dilate slightly. The small muscle beside her left eye twitches once, twice. Her breathing changes—shallow and quick. Anyone else would miss these subtle signs, but I’ve memorized the language of her body.

She’s in shock.

For seventeen seconds, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at the screen where her uncle sits in his makeshift cell, unaware of our scrutiny. I allow the silence to stretch between us, giving her time to process. My confession hangs in the air—words I can’t take back. Words I don’t want to take back.

“What are you thinking, beautiful?” I finally ask, my voice gentler than I expected. “About what I said? About what I want to do?”

Her wide and unfocused eyes snap to mine. Our connection vibrates with tension. This moment feels precarious, balanced on a knife’s edge. One wrong move could shatter everything we’ve built.

Without a word,Kiramoves to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair with mechanical precision. She sits down heavily, like her body suddenly weighs too much for her legs to support. Her fingers rise to her temples, pressing into the skin in small circular motions.

The gesture is familiar—I’ve seen it thirty-seven times since she’s been with me. Always when she’s overwhelmed, when her thoughts race too quickly for her to process. I’ve memorized this particular stress response and filed it with all her other habits and tells.

I remain where I stand, giving her space. The distance between us feels vast and dangerous. I’ve miscalculated and revealed too much too soon. The urge to touch her is overwhelming, but I force myself to stay still. She needs time.

Her fingers press harder against her temples, eyes closed now. The silence stretches, punctuated only by her uneven breathing and the faint sound from the iPad where her uncle shifts on his cot, oblivious to his fate hanging in the balance.

Kira’sbody shudders as the first sob breaks free. It tears through her, raw and guttural, her shoulders heaving with the force of it. I freeze, as she crumples forward at the table, her face buried in her hands.

Have I gone too far?

I move to her side, crouching beside her chair, not touching her yet. I wait. One heartbeat. Two. Her sobs continue, filling the space between us.

“Kira—”

“No,” she cuts me off, her voice thick with tears. She lifts her head, and I see her face is streaked and blotchy, eyes burning with an intensity that stops the words in my throat. “No, I want him gone.”

My breath catches. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She shakes her head, another sob escaping. “He took everything from me, and no one—” Her voice breaks. “Even my own mother wouldn’t believe me. I told her, I told her what he did, and she said I was making it up for attention.”

I take her hands in mine, squeezing gently. “I believe you,Kira. I’ve always believed you.”

“How?” Her eyes search mine, desperate and wounded. “You believe me so easily. So easily you’d—you’d do this for me.”

I cup her face, wiping away tears with my thumbs. The trust in her eyes is a heady thing, more intoxicating than any drug I’ve ever experienced.

“What will happen?” she whispers, her hands clutching mine now. “What if—what if someone finds out? What if they trace it back to you?”