Page 79 of Held-

“No.” She shakes her head and steps closer, her warmth brushing against me. “That isn’t the whole of you. I’ve seen the rest, even if you can’t.”

I want to believe her. God, I want to. But the anger still beats under my skin, a relentless second rhythm demanding release. She thinks she sees something in me worth saving—something I’m not convinced exists.

“You’re wrong.” Her closeness is doing something to me, making it harder to hold onto the fury. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I know exactly what you're capable of.” Her hand reaches up to touch my face again, and I fight the urge to lean into it like some touch-starved animal. “I saw you stop today when every instinct was telling you not to. That took more strength than giving in ever would.”

I close my eyes, unable to face her. The faith she has in me cuts deeper than any condemnation.

“Don’t put me on some fucking pedestal, Cece. I’m not a good man.”

“I’m not asking you to be good,” she whispers, her thumb stroking gently along my cheek. “I’m just asking you to behere.With me. Not out there hunting him down.”

When I finally look at her, she’s watching me with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from my lungs.

No fear. No judgment.

Just love—or something dangerously close to it.

“I can't promise I won't hurt him if I see him again,” I admit. “I can't promise that.”

“I know.” She nods, still not pulling away. “But right now, I need you more than I need you to avenge me.”

The need for violence doesn't disappear—it's still there, simmering under my skin—but it recedes just enough for me to breathe again.

“What do you need?” I ask. “Tell me what you need from me right now.”

She steps closer, eliminating what little space remains between us. “Just hold me,” she whispers. “Just make me feel safe.”

I wrap my arms around her, careful not to squeeze too tight despite the urge to crush her against my chest. She melts into me, her body softening as she presses her face into my shirt. I can feel her tears soaking through the fabric, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs she's been holding back since we left the restaurant.

“I've got you,” I murmur into her hair. “You're safe now.”

We stand like that in the kitchen, her crying quietly against my chest. Part of me is still back in that bathroom, finishing what I started with Ethan. The other part is here, holding the only thing that matters, trying to be what she needs instead of the monster I know I am.

“I'm sorry,” she says again, her voice muffled against my shirt.

“Don't,” I warn her, my hand stilling in her hair. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“No, I need to say it,” she insists, pulling back just enough to look at me, her face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry I let him get to me. I’m sorry I let him make me doubt myself.”

I brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

“He’s spent years getting inside your head. That kind of damage doesn’t disappear overnight.”

“I hate that he still has that power.”

“Then take it back.”

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs gently sweeping away the tears on her cheeks. “Every time you choose whatyouwant, you take some of that power back.”

She leans into my touch, letting her eyes close for just a moment. When they open again, something has shifted—still hurting, yes, but steadier. There’s steel under the softness now.

“I want you. I want this life I'm building. With you.”

The simple declaration hits me with unexpected force. I’ve spent my life being wanted for what I could do—damage I could inflict, protection I could offer, needs I could satisfy. But being wanted for who I am? That’s a different kind of shock.

“You sure about that?” I ask, giving her one last chance to walk away from the storm that is me. “Because I’m still the same man who nearly put your ex-husband through a bathroom wall twenty minutes ago.”