The room is quiet except for the crackle of the fire, but my confession hangs heavy between us.
Her gaze lingers on me, like she’s trying to memorize every line of my face.
I mapped and memorized every inch of her body a long time ago.
The world is full of chaos, but she’s the one thing I want to keep perfectly mine.
I know she has more questions, and I know I owe her more answers.
But all I can think about is how badly I’ve failed.
I was supposed to keep her safe. To keep this from touching her. And yet, here we are—storm-ravaged, surrounded by death, with ghosts creeping in from all sides. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to hold the line, the past keeps finding ways to bleed into the present. It’s like quicksand, swallowing everything I care about before I even have the chance to pull them free.
I should have seen this coming. Should have done more, known more, been more. But all I have are the bodies left in the wake of my mistakes, every misstep pulling me under just a little bit further.
And I voice as much out loud.
Her fingers trail over the brand on my chest, her touch light, almost reverent. “You didn’t fail, Ezra,” she says quietly. “The Assembly did this to all of you.”
Her words are a lifeline, a thread of absolution I don’t deserve.
But I let myself hold on, just for a moment.
In the quiet that follows, I tell her more than I ever planned to.
My fears.
My failures.
The things that keep me awake at night.
She listens, her eyes never leaving mine.
For once, there isn’t a tinge of mistrust behind the way she looks at me.
She just sees me.
When the fire burns low and the room grows colder, she stays close. Her breath steadies against my chest, and her fingers curl into my shirt.
I hold her tighter because for now, this will have to be enough.
But it’s not.
Not when her every breath, her every touch, feeds this ache inside me.
The way she looks at me, like she sees through every mask I’ve ever worn, makes me want to burn the world down just to keep her safe.
She doesn’t understand what she’s done to me—what she’s made me.
Her fingers trace patterns on my skin, absentminded but deliberate, and I wonder if she knows how easily she could destroy me.
How she already has.
Some people fall in love. I tripped, face planted, and somehow managed to drag her down with me.
“Kruz,” I murmur, her name on my lips is the closest thing to a prayer I’ve ever said. “You don’t get it. You’re the only thing keeping me sane in this mess. If something happened to you…” My voice falters, the thought nearly suffocating.
Her head tilts up, her eyes meeting mine. There’s no fear in them, no hesitation. Just a quiet determination that makes me ache even more. “I’m not going anywhere, Ezra. Not without you.”
