Page 61 of Stricken

I close my eyes, readying myself for the inevitable. I can't hide forever, no matter how much I wish to. I brought this upon myself.

I make my way to the door, my steps unsteady as I brace myself against the furniture. With a deep breath, I turn the handle and swing it open.

And there he stands, a vision in black. His Henley clings to his perfect frame, his jeans hugging his thighs just right. His dark hair is tousled by the rare breeze.

But it's his eyes that capture me, those transfixing blue eyes that see straight into my soul. They are calm and steady like a lighthouse guiding me through the storm of my emotions.

"You asked to see me," he says, his voice low and soothing. "Here I am."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and step aside, allowing him to enter my haven. The click of the door closing behind him is like the sealing of a fate I cannot escape.

Nico's gaze roams over my face, probably noting the shadows beneath my eyes and the stubble lining my jaw. "You look like hell, Hot Shot," he murmurs. There's concern etched into the lines of his brow as he takes a few more steps, moving further into the house before turning to face me.

A harsh laugh escapes my lips, the sound grating and foreign to my own ears. "I feel like it too," I admit, the words slurring together, as I get closer to him.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my arm in a gesture of comfort. The touch is electric with familiar shivers wrapping around my spine. I want to lean into it, to lose myself in the warmth of his presence.

But I can't. Not now, not like this. I pull away, staggering back a step as I fight to maintain my balance. "You shouldn't have come," I rasp. "I'm not... I can't..."

Nico's expression softens some more. "You don't have to do this alone, Vlad. Let me help you."

The offer is tempting, a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. But the darkness within me is too strong, too consuming. I fear that if I let him in, he'll be swallowed whole.

"No one can help me," I whisper. "I'm beyond saving."

Nico steps closer, erasing the space between us once more, his presence filling the room with serenity that I desperately crave. "You're wrong," he says, his tone firm but gentle. "You're not beyond anything. You're just lost, and I'm here to guide you back."

"Aren't you lost too, Romeo?" I whisper at him, swaying on my feet. The room tilts dangerously. Nico's arms are there to catch me, strong and steady as they wrap around my waist.

"I've got you," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "I've always got you."

And for a moment, I allow myself to believe it. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there is still a chance for redemption.

Even if it's a chance I don't deserve.

"I want to get some fresh air," I tell him. "Do you mind?"

"Sure." He guides me onto the terrace.

"Why are you here, Nico?" I ask as I grip the railing for support. "Why do you keep coming back?"

Nico's hand rests on the small of my back, a gentle reminder of his presence. "Then why do you keep asking to see me?"

"Ah, answering a question with a question. Smart." I will my lips to smile a little, but I don't know if they listen to me. It could be a mean scowl I'm offering him right now.

Still, he doesn't budge. "Technique old as time, right?"

"You know what else is old as time?"

"Enlighten me?"

"Evil."

There is a bit of silence and I wait. I wait for him to tell me something I could latch on to, I could use as an excuse that we can't be doing this anymore.

Instead, he murmurs, "If you think that's what you are, that's what you're becoming, let me tell you a secret—I'm becoming it too."

I can't formulate my next thought. My mind goes blank.

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