Of course, she’d say that—because she didn’t know the truth about the kind of man I was.
“I found more information.” My voice emerged flat, stripped of inflection. It felt like slipping into an old suit—uncomfortable but familiar. “About Ronan Graves. About who I was. More than what you’d already seen.”
She moved closer, concern replacing hope. “Tell me.”
“I was a criminal.” I turned and maintained eye contact, watching for the moment recognition hit. “A thug. An enforcer. A fucking butcher. I broke bodies for money in cities across the eastern seaboard.”
Her expression shifted slightly, but not toward the disgust I expected.
“I manipulated witnesses into silence. I laundered money through shell companies. I extorted business owners for protection fees.” Each statement landed hard. “Several people died because of direct actions I took. Others killedthemselves rather than face what I’d do to them.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t retreat. She didn’t look away.
And finally, I had an answer to the question she had asked about a few times now.
“I married a woman named Sofia for access to her father’s business connections.” The words scraped my throat. “She killed herself three weeks before Brock sold me to Oblivion.”
Maeve’s eyes widened at this. “The woman you called for.”
“Yes.”
She stepped back, her hand rising to her throat in an unconscious gesture of protection. The slight retreat sent a knife of pain through me, but it confirmed what I already knew: Monsters don’t deserve redemption.
“That’s…” She swallowed hard. “That’s a lot to process.”
“It’s who I was,” I said flatly. “Who I am.”
She shook her head, but uncertainty clouded her eyes now. “The conditioning...”
“They erased the narrative, not the capacity.” I stepped away from her, maintaining tactical distance. “The skills that make me effective now came from somewhere. The calculation. The ability to read weaknesses and exploit them.”
“Everyone has capacity for darkness,” she argued, but her voice wavered slightly. “What matters is the choices you make now.”
“You don’t understand.” My voice hardened. “The man who held you, who made love to you—he doesn’t exist. He’s ablank canvas painted with whatever seemed most convenient in the moment.”
Pain flashed across her face. “That’s not true.”
“It is. Any connection you think exists between us is built on false premises.” Another step back. “You don’t know who I am.”
“I’ve seen you make choices the Ronan Graves in those files would never make,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
“I’ll help you find Xavier. I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll kill Brock.” My jaw tightened. “Then I’ll disappear. Someone with my history doesn’t get the luxury of connection.”
She crossed her arms, studying me with narrowed eyes. “So that’s your solution? Push me away? For my own good?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Bullshit.” The word cracked the air between us. She took a long step toward me, with an accusatory look in her eyes. “You’re protecting yourself.”
The accusation landed like a physical blow. “You think this is easy?”
“I think it’s convenient.” She stepped forward again, erasing more of the distance I created. “I think you found something that scares you, so you’re running. Taking the easy way out.”
“Easy?” My voice rose despite myself. “You think walking away from you is easy?”
“Easier than staying. Easier than facing what’s happening between us.” Another step closer. “Easier than believing you might be worthy of something good.”
“You don’t understand what I’m capable of.” I could never hurt her. Not physically, at least. Not willingly. But I knew I had to put some distance between us—for her own good. I’d sooner die than let her end up like Sofia.
