Page 63

She ignored his offer of a ride when he caught up and took the tram. He followed her.

By the time they reached her building, they were both breathing hard—though not from exertion.

"You're insane," she hissed.

"I'm emotionally imbalanced, yes."

"You're out of line."

"Just wait. I'm only getting started," he promised.

She stopped, and turned, eyes shining. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up now and act like—like the past didn't happen."

"No one knows the past like I do," he said hoarsely. "I've lived it in my nightmares every day. I know what I did. I know I crushed you. Lied to myself. Let someone else into our space. I made so many mistakes."

"You gave me hope. You said it was just the two of us," she whispered, voice shaking. "And then you snatched it away."

"I was a fool. I won't ever be again."

Her voice trembled. "You didn't just lose me. You destroyed me. Lied to me. All those promises you made... all lies. If you let her touch you like—like I was nothing, how can I trust you? "

He cupped her cheek, fingers trembling. "You were everything. Still are. I have changed. And I'll beg for your forgiveness for the rest of my life if that's what it takes. Just... don't walk away again."

"I can't trust you," she whispered.

"I'll earn it," he vowed. "No more secrets. I'm not going back to Vargrheim. I abdicated. I'll stay here, in your world, if that's what it takes. Just... let me try."

Her eyes shimmered. "Don't say those things unless you mean them."

"I've never meant anything more."

She stared at him, torn and shaking.

Then shoved him.

Hard.

"Asshole."

"Fair play," he said, catching himself.

She shook her head, teeth biting into her lower lip as tears welled in her eyes.

"Don't—" she whispered.

But it was too late. One slipped free .

Hagan moved instinctively, closing the space between them, his thumb brushing gently beneath her eye. Reverent. Shaking.

"Don't cry," he murmured, voice frayed with feeling. "Please, Seren. You're killing me."

Another tear fell. He caught it too, his hand trembling now. His other hand came up, cupping the side of her face.

"Don't cry," he said softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "Please. I can't bear it."

"Just go, Hagan."

"Anything but that. Please don't ask that of me." His eyes were tortured.

She turned away, trying to get her breathing under control.

He didn't follow this time.

He just stood there, watching her disappear into the apartment.

And now, he stood at the window, half behind the curtain.

Watching her like the stalker he was.

She was curled up on her small sofa, laptop open in her lap, hair tied in a messy knot on top of her head. Barefoot. Wearing a loose T-shirt that read No Coffee, No Talkie and tiny sleep shorts that should be criminal .

Even at this distance, he saw the signs—red-rimmed eyes, the way her mouth tugged downward as she stared blankly at her screen, her shoulders slumped as if they carried too much.

A knot formed in his chest.

His gaze lingered—trailing the curve of her thigh, the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the way her fingers absently scrolled across the trackpad. She shifted slightly, curling into herself more, and the laptop's glow lit her face like some fallen moon.

Mine.

Mine.

The notion struck him again and again—raw and unyielding.

He'd attempted patience, giving her space to see he wasn't the same man as before. But a fierce, primal need knotted in his gut, coiled tight like a wound spring. A low growl threatened to escape his throat.

Then—quietly, from the shadowed hallway behind him:

"'To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.'"

Hagan didn't turn. "Still reading that damn book?"

Veyr stepped into the room, folding his arms. "You know she's not your enemy, right? "

"I know."

"Then stop watching her like you're planning a siege."

"I'm watching her," Hagan said, jaw tight, "because if I don't, I'll break something."

They both fell into silence. Below, in the apartment across the courtyard, Seren rubbed her eyes and leaned her head back on the sofa cushion.

And even from here, it felt like heartbreak.

Hagan whispered, "She still looks so tired."

"She misses you," Veyr said simply.

"Not enough. But I've barely started," Hagan replied, voice like gravel.

Veyr didn't argue. He just looked at him for a long moment, then turned back down the hallway, muttering:

"'The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.'"

Hagan's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"One more quote, and I swear to the gods I'll shove that book so far up your arse you'll be quoting Sun Tzu every time you fart. "

Veyr didn't even flinch. He simply turned his head, one brow arching. He opened his mouth to say something.

Hagan turned slowly, deadpan. "Don't test me, Veyr."

With a smug little smile, Veyr raised his hands in surrender and disappeared down the hall.

Hagan stayed by the window, jaw clenched, heart wrecked, eyes locked on the girl who was still everything.

And no closer to being his.

Yet.