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“Sure he could,” Zade argues. “You think I’d stand by and watch?”

“Even if—”

“No. The answer is no, regardless of the scenario. If I were weaponless and had five guns trained on me, I still wouldn’t stand by and watch you—or any of those other girls—go through what you did. And I get that his sister was used as collateral, but he could’ve asked for my help.”

I frown. I hadn’t really thought of that. Rio was very aware of who he was going up against from the beginning. So why didn’t he betray those who were holding his sister hostage, and get Z to help him instead?

“You’re right,” I acquiesce softly. “Regardless of his choices, it’s still hard to forget how much he helped me. When Sydney was trying to frame me, there were times he took the blame instead, and Rocco would beat the shit out of him for it. He may not have been able to step in every time, but he did what he could in a situation he felt trapped in.”

Zade stays quiet, so I continue. “Francesca made him take care of my injuries from the car accident since they were his fault. But then I started getting injuries from the men, and then eventually Xavier, and he took care of those, too. I… don’t know how to explain it. But he kind of became my friend. He was a little cruel in the beginning with Dr. Garrison, but he never looked at me like… He was the only man in that house that didn’t sexualize me, and I guess in the end, he was my safe place. He did hurt me, Zade, but he protected me, too.”

The muscle in his jaw pops, but I can’t tell what’s on his mind. It takes him a few moments, but eventually, he turns his head to me with an empty expression.

“Do you want me to spare his life?” he asks, voice monotone.

I open my mouth, but no words make it out.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I really don’t know.”

“What did we talk about before? Decide what you can and cannot live with. Can you live with knowing that I killed Rio, or can you not?”

I frown, looking down at my hands while I contemplate that. I’ve been picking at a hangnail without even realizing, a dot of blood on the side of my thumb.

“Would you do it?” I question, looking up at him. “If I asked, would you spare his life?”

“Yes,” he responds. “I would kill for you—I have killed for you—but I would also put down a gun and never pick it up again if you asked it of me. The lengths I would go to for you are terrifying, little mouse. So easily, you could destroy me, and I would lie down and take it. I don’t care if I live or die—as long as it’s all for you.”

“Don’t say that,” I whisper.

“I don’t lie, Adeline, and I’m not going to start now. So, tell me. Do you want me to spare his life?”

“Yes,” I answer after a few beats. “I want Rio to live with his own choices. Whether he regrets the decisions he made or not, I want him to live with it. And I don’t want either of us to be responsible for taking away Katerina’s brother.”

Zade drops his head, but he nods. And the love that was nearly bursting from my tongue when I saw him on TV is back again, though it never really left.

I crawl from the bed and kneel between his spread thighs, grabbing his face in my palms and kissing his lips softly.

“Thank you,” I say. “Not just for this, but for earlier, too. Taking the blame for Xavier’s death.”

“Didn’t I say I’d do anything for you?” he asks, turning his head to kiss my palm before slipping from my fingers and standing up.

“I need to shower. Sleep, baby.”

I open my mouth, but he’s closing the bathroom door behind him before I can process his exit, leaving me kneeling on the floor and feeling a little dejected.

My heart sinks, guilt gnawing at my insides for asking him to spare Rio. I wonder if I should rescind my decision. Though if I’m being honest with myself, I think I’d mourn his death. And I’d never be able to look Katerina in the eye again, despite what her brother has put me through.

I’m sitting up in bed, mind racing over what to do when Zade emerges, steam rolling from the depths of the bathroom from behind him. He dons nothing but a black towel, loosely tucked around his waist and on the verge of slipping off.

My mouth waters at the sight, and I grow so heated, my blood boils until I’m left with nothing but vapors.

There will never be another that looks like him—never another that will be anything like him. And there’s a small part of me terrified to see the day Zade dies. Though I’ll have a lot to fucking say if he croaks before he turns ninety.

Asshole jumped through hoops to get me, now he has to suffer through a long life of having me.

I'll never understand how humans fear death when time is far scarier. It ultimately leads us to death because it’s the only thing that truly makes us mortal. We’re locked in the illusion with no way out.

Fuck, I really want out.