Page 35 of Savage Reckoning


Font Size:

I nod, like, yeah, of course. Stuck on a yacht in a freaking hurricane with the guy who just shattered me... and then backed off. Awesome.

“How long?” I ask.

“A few hours. Yacht’s solid. We’re safe.”

Except maybe from whatever’s brewing between us.

He heads to the bar, pours two whiskeys, and hands me one. I take it; the warmth spreading through me as I sip. He drops into the chair across from me, keeping some distance on purpose. The lights flicker for a sec, then settle.

“Painkillers kicking in?” he asks.

Yeah, the sharp edges are fading to a dull ache. I nod. “They are.”

We sit there in this heavy quiet, full of stuff neither of us is saying.

“Earlier,” he starts, then stops. Puts his glass down. “That was a miscalculation.”

“A miscalculation?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

“I pushed too far.” His eyes meet mine, all guarded and intense. “Won’t happen again.”

An apology? From Nico Varela? It’s so weird I almost snort.

“But that doesn’t answer my question,” I say. “Why’d you stop?”

His jaw tightens. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah.” I set my glass down too. “It does.”

He shoots up and goes to the window. “The sound you made,” he mutters after a bit, his voice low. “I’ve heard it before. As a kid. When my mom—” He cuts off, his shoulders locking up. “It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Whoa. That hits me hard—a crack in his armor, showing something real underneath.

“What did you want?” I ask, softer now.

He turns back, his face a mix of anger and... regret? “To remind you where you stand. To take back control. Not... that.” He waves a hand vaguely at me.

The meds and the whiskey are loosening me up, making me bolder than smart. I spot that vulnerability and go for it.

“And did it work?” I push, holding his gaze. “You feel in control now, Nico?”

A flash of danger crosses his eyes. “Watch it, Lea.”

I lean in. “No, seriously. Did breaking me make you feel powerful? Did it give you what you wanted?”

“This conversation’s done,” he snaps, voice like steel.

“Because you hate the answer,” I continue. “Because deep down, you didn’t want to break me. And when you did, it didn’t feel like a win. It felt like you screwed up.”

Bam, I see it land—the way his eyes widen just a fraction, the tiny step back. I’ve nailed something he’s not ready to admit. Lightning lights up the room, carving his face in shadows. For a split second, I see the guy under the tough-guy shell—lost, maybe even a little like that scared kid he mentioned.

That’s when it clicks. There’s a soft spot there, hidden under all the damage and walls. Twisted, sure, but it’s real. He can feel regret. He can change. And damn, even after everything, it makes my heart ache in a way that’s scary and kind of thrilling.

CHAPTER TWELVE

NICO

My chest feelslike it’s in a vise as I stand in the eerie blue glow of the emergency lights. Outside, the storm’s slamming against the yacht’s hull, waves crashing. But that’s nothing compared to the chaos inside me. I stare at Lea, curled tight on the couch, a defensive knot screaming about the mess I’ve made.