Page 11

She turned toward me, expression open. “You miss them,” she stated, not as a question but a fact.

Her honesty caught me off guard. Most people skirted around my family, as if speaking their names might break a fragile peace. I swallowed hard.

“I still reach for my phone to call my mother about the smallest thing, then remember she’s gone.”

Cali slid her hand over mine, palm warm against my knuckles. The grass whispered beneath us. “I understand,” she said. “I miss my parents too.”

A hush settled over us. She rested her fingertips against mine, and a warmth spread from the base of my palm to my collarbone. It felt like sinking into a familiar armchair after a long day, yet electricity raced beneath my skin.

Comfort pulled me inward as a thrill pushed me outward, two forces tangled until I could not tell one from the other. I pressed into the swirl of feeling, letting each pulse of wonder and surge of longing sweep through me.

I imagined every secret moment we might share in a sunlit kitchen, every quiet evening by a crackling fire.

If this marriage to Cali brought such wonder and peace, I would stand at the altar today. My chest ached with the closeness between us, raw and honest, grounding me in a truth I could not name but recognized without question.

I made a wish as her thumb traced my palm. When she was ready, I hoped she would choose me. Together, let us weave our lives into something enduring—a space filled with warmth and new memories created side by side.

I pictured her smile greeting me at dawn, familiar as sunrise, something I would crave each morning.

“I know you’re thinking about it,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

I cocked my head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

Her emerald gaze darkened. She pressed her lips together until they flattened. “My kidnapping. Everyone is curious. So go ahead and ask. It’s fine.”

My throat tightened. Words collected like stones in my chest before I found them.

“I’ve heard fragments of what you went through.” I chose each word as if gathering pebbles in my hand. “But this”—I swept a thumb across her knuckles—“is your story. You share it only when you choose. I would never ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Her entire demeanor radiated strength as she smiled at me.

I knew what she was feeling. I’d spent years after the deaths of my family members trudging uncomfortably through awkward conversations with well-meaning friends and colleagues.

There were times when I felt like I never wanted to discuss it again, but then that would feel wrong too. It was a delicate balance between needing to express your feelings and love for them and finding a way to move on once you’d been left behind.

To my surprise, Cali took the hand she’d laid on mine and turned it over, interlacing her fingers with mine before speaking.

“Thank you for being so kind. I know I don’t have to talk about it. But…I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head slowly as she gazed out at the nature surrounding us. “Part of me wants you to know.”

“I’m here to listen to anything you need to share. You’re safe with me, Cali. Always.”

Her shoulders dipped as if relief had slipped through her chest. A small tremor shook her lips into a half-smile. I closed my fingers around her hand, feeling the fine tremor of her bones and the fierce determination beneath.

She drew in a breath that rattled like loose stones.

“I was in the university library, in that glass-walled study just off the special research stacks. One other woman was at a long table carved from walnut, fixated on a blueprint. My security team stood beyond the glass panels. I told them to wait outside so I could think without them looming.

“I wandered toward a corner shelf and reached for a book on Gothic vaults when someone yanked me backward. I never saw it coming. A bag covered my face, and I felt a prick along my neck. My ears rang, and then the world went black.”

I shook my head, a thread of rage beginning to surge through my body. A pounding in my head drummed a raging beat.

I stayed silent, giving her space to continue.

“When I woke, I was alone. Every wall pressed in, like stone had teeth. Darkness tasted of damp metal. My ribs ached from lying on the concrete slab. My breath came slow, every breath dragging cold through my lungs.”

She paused as if to gather her thoughts. I let the quiet stretch until she spoke again.

“After hours that felt like years, footsteps echoed outside my cell. At first, they only watched. Faces pressed to the bars, silent eyes gleaming in the weak bulb overhead. I pounded on the door until my knuckles split and my voice shredded from my screams. Still, they said nothing. They only watched.”

Her jaw clenched. “When they finally spoke, it was to shred my family’s name. They accused my father of crimes he never committed. They threatened to hunt my sisters, to drag them in there and turn their bones to dust.”

I swallowed, trying to keep from tightening my fingers around hers.

“I thought that was the worst. Then a second group appeared.” She shivered hard, and I could see the vein on her neck pulsing rapidly. “They didn’t stay outside the bars.”

White-hot fury raced through my veins. In my mind, I was ripping the heads from these assholes’ bodies .

“They beat me every day,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “And they…they took turns—” Her voice dropped off.

This was excruciating.

“Cali,” I whispered, squeezing her hand.

“It felt like it was never going to end…” She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her.

My heart broke for her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and hold her forever, but she was sitting rigid and still as if a strong wind might break her in two.

“Thank God for my sisters and Vik.” She raised her head, tears on the tips of her lashes. “By the time they got to me, I was broken. I’d given up. I was frightened that I was going to die there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” She sighed. “I didn’t.”

She faced me, and the intensity of her gaze made my heart clench. “But what they took from me, Leon, I can never get back.”

“Calista, I am so sorry,” I said, my gut twisting.

She waved her hand in the air, shaking her head.

“I’m not even talking about my innocence,” she said, voice catching on the word, “though that vanished too. I mean my strength. Before…before it happened, I loved life like a free spirit. I fought for my freedom, marched into storms without hesitation. I found adventure everywhere I looked. Afterward, it was like someone yanked the wind from my lungs. I jumped at every rustle for months, convinced a threat lived in every shadow.”

I leaned forward. “And now? ”

She lifted her chin up, her jaw firm. “I’m gaining my strength. Not as quickly as I’d like, though. It leaves me feeling helpless, and that drives me crazy.”

“I don’t see you as weak,” I said. “Calista, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.

I must admit, it’s taking all my strength right now not to explode with rage after hearing your story.

If it were up to me, I’d rip those responsible to shreds.

But I recognize that you don’t need anger from me right now.

It’s your story. Your anger. Your vengeance.

But I can be here for you. I can be your friend.

You can always talk to me about anything you want.

But again, I never want you to feel the need to discuss anything that makes you uncomfortable. ”

I squeezed her hand again, hoping like hell that she could feel the depth of my sincerity.

“I would never be anything but gentle with you, Calista,” I added, pressing my thumb against her knuckles.

She stared back at me thoughtfully before replying with a teasing smile. “You do realize everything you just said completely contradicts your reputation, right?”

I smirked. “Reputation’s a tool. People see a wall of muscle and scars and think twice before crossing me.”

She tipped her head. “Is that all it’s for? My research has shown that you don’t tend to have a lot of personal relationships.”

I digested her words. “I will admit that I keep most people at a distance. But the right ones, the people who are supposed to be in my life, see past that tough-guy facade. They know the real me. ”

Her smile was as serene as an angel’s, lighting up my heart.

“Am I one of those people?” she asked.

Her question was so simple, yet so complicated. How could I ever answer that?

“That’s for you to decide. Can you look past what you’ve heard about me and discover who I really am?”

“I already am,” she said.

I took a deep breath. Being physically close to her while having such an intimate conversation left my head spinning.

My pulse hammered as we sat side by side, the distance between us shrinking.

Her tone shifted, quiet and raw. “Leon…I think I could fall in love with you. And I’m not sure I want that.”

I traced the outline of her hand with my thumb and smiled. If only she knew I was already there.