Page 78 of Carved in Ruin

I feel the ache in my shoulder, the dull throb in my temples, and the heaviness in my chest. I feel everything.

And then I feel him.

My arm is trapped beneath the weight of Rafael’s head, his dark hair a chaotic mess that tells me he’s been clawing at it, over and over, like he’s been trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Guilt twists in my stomach.

I lift my free hand to touch him, ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder. My fingers weave into his hair and I rake them through the tangled strands. His head jerks up immediately, his bloodshot eyes locking on mine.

There’s nothing soft about the way he looks at me. His gaze is feral, ravenous, like he’s been starving for something only I can give him.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at me, unblinking, his hand reaching up to trace my face. His fingers are rough, but his touch is so delicate it almost breaks me.

“You’re back,” he murmurs, his voice thick with disbelief.

I frown. “Back?”

“To me,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t remember much beyond the crushing weight of wanting it all to stop. To end. He looks like he’s been to hell and back—and barely survived the trip.

He reaches for a glass of water on the nightstand and brings it to my lips. I try to take it from him, but he tuts. “Don’t.”

So I let him. I let him hold the glass as I drink, the cool water soothing my parched throat. When I’m done, he sets the glass down and leans in, his forehead pressing against mine.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growls.

I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “I—”

“No.” His hand moves to my jaw, gripping it just firmly enough to keep me still. “You don’t get to explain. Do you have any idea what it was like for me, Mila?” He says. “Watching them pump life back into you. Wondering if you’d even make it through the night. Thinking—” His voice catches, and he shakes his head. “I don’t care what was in your head. I don’t care what you thought you needed. If you ever try to leave me like that again, I will lose what’s left of my fucking soul.”

My heart pounds painfully in my chest.

“I’d burn the world to the ground,” he continues with desperation. “I’d hunt down every goddamn person who failed you—myself included—and I’d make them pay. You don’t get to leave me. Not ever.”

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Sorry won’t fix this,” he snaps, his forehead pressing harder against mine. “Sorry won’t erase the image of you lying there, hurt, like some goddamn angel who thought she could escape this hell without me. You think you can run from me,Kroshka? Even in death, I’d follow you. I’d drag you back screaming if I had to.”

His words are dark, terrifying, and yet there’s something unshakably honest in them.

“I won’t,” I manage to promise. “I won’t ever do that again.”

His eyes bore into mine, searching for something, and after a long, agonizing moment, he nods. “You swear it,” he demands. “Say it.”

“I swear.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath for days. His hand falls from my jaw and he leans back just enough to look at me fully.

“You have no idea what it was like,” he says. “To think I’d lost you. It would’ve destroyed me, Mila. There wouldn’t have been anything left of me. You don’t get to do that to me. Do you hear me? You. Don’t. Get. To.”

His lips crash against mine in a kiss that’s more punishment than affection, a reminder of everything I almost took away.

And yet, as overwhelming as it all is, I feel grounded for the first time in what feels like forever.

I shouldn’t have hurt myself. I have more power than I know. And that’s why I’ll leave. I’ll leave him, the mafia, and the past,all of it. But not today. Not when he’s this close to breaking, and not when I’m still too tired to stand.

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