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“You think I’d just stand there and let anyone look down on you?” My voice breaks, a note of desperation slipping through. “She tried to shrink you down to nothing, and I couldn’t let her. I won’t.”

She blinks, just once. Her armor doesn’t fall, but it shifts.

“You defended me?” she says quietly.

“I did.”

“Why?”

When she opens her mouth, all I could think about was how fast I wanted to shut it for her. Tell her all the reasons she’s worth fighting for.

But I keep it simple.

“Because I couldn’t stand there and let someone pretend you’re anything less than the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”

She finally looks at me—really looks at me—and it damn near takes me out. Because beneath the anger in her eyes, there's pain. Wounded hope. That part of her still waiting to be chosen.

And fuck if I’m not already choosing her with everything I’ve got.

We’re close now. So close I can see the way her lashes tremble, the pulse fluttering at her throat. I should step back. I should play it safe. But nothing about her makes me want to be careful.

So I kiss her.

Not for PR. Not for damage control. Not because anyone’s watching.

Because if I don’t taste her again, I might fucking implode.

She kisses me back with all the fire I’ve missed, all the questions and hurt and need pouring out of her mouth into mine. Her hands grip my lapel, dragging me closer, anchoring me.

The noise of the room disappears. Her lips are soft and fierce, like she’s trying to decide if she forgives me or just wants to ruin me a little first.

I’ll take either.

When we break, I don’t move. I keep my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling.

“That wasn’t for the cameras,” I say, voice thick.

“I know.” She pants.

“Kat…this thing—whatever this fake shit is...I’m done.”

I hold her gaze, voice low and steady.

She closes her eyes. When she opens them, there’s something in her gaze that makes it hard to breathe.

Hope. Fear. Maybe even the beginnings of belief.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she whispers.

I grip her waist, tight. “I won’t.”

Not this time.

Chapter twenty-seven

Katarina

Thelimo'stooquiet.