Page 115 of Hard Knot

Not your right.

Yet…I want it to be.

The darker part of me —the part that remembers what it felt like to have her on her knees, to feel her submit even as she challenged me— whispers that it could be. All I have to do is stop fighting this, stop pretending I don't want her with an intensity that frightens me, and fight back against the odds that are all against the idea of happiness entering my orbit.

Stop acting like I'm still in control when we all know I lost it the moment she walked into my office.

Carter's words echo in my mind.

"We're no longer taking our sweet ass time with anything."

He's right.

The world is changing, power shifting like sand through our fingers, and I'm still here playing at being the untouchable leader when my empire is held together with borrowed time and fragile alliances.

How much longer can I maintain this facade?

How much longer before everyone sees what Carter already knows…

That I'm nothing but a blind man pretending he can still see the way forward?

The soft creak of the door opening breaks through my spiral of self-loathing.

"Are you going to continue standing in the hall like a blind douche, or are you coming inside?"

Morrison's voice carries that same casual authority that had made Phillips tremble in his office. The kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how much power you hold and not being afraid to use it.

I scowl in his direction, maintaining my silence.

It's easier this way — safer.

Words have a way of revealing too much, especially to someone who seems to read people as easily as Morrison does.

A soft sigh escapes him as he pulls the door mostly closed, leaving just enough space for a sliver of light to escape. The gap carries Elizabeth's scent with it — sweetness and vanilla now tainted with the sharp edge of warmth.

"Eli has a fever," he says, his tone serious despite the casual way he uses that nickname. "Probably because she hasn't been taking her heat suppressants." There's a pause, heavy with accusation. "Why didn't you check on that?"

"I've barely talked to her," I mutter, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

The displacement of air tells me he's moved closer before I feel his presence directly in front of me. His hands grip my shoulders, forcing me to face him fully. The contact is unexpected enough to make me tense, but I don't pull away.

"Is this what you want your end to be?" His voice drops lower, meant only for my ears. "For the world to despise you because of your hidden predicament?"

The question hits harder than any physical blow could. My jaw clenches as I maintain my silence, but we both know it's not really silence anymore — it's surrender.

The absent weight of his hands on my shoulders followed by the soft sound of something sliding against fabric tells me he's slipped his hands into his pockets. A casual gesture that somehow makes this moment feel more futile.

"You remind me of my dad," he says quietly, and something in his tone makes my breath catch. "Thought being silent to the world and portraying strength was going to solve everything."

A heavy sigh fills the space between us.

"When Eli disappeared," he continues, his voice taking on a rougher edge, "I took a year off." He laughs, but the sound holds no humor. "Everyone thought it was some sort of show of power because my 'rival' was missing, but the truth?"

The pause stretches, weighted with unspoken emotion.

"I realized I fucking loved her."

The words hang in the air between us, sharp and honest in a way that makes my chest ache.

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