Page 62 of Stricken

"If you want," he continues. "We can do this together. Be evil. Because there's nothing else left for us in this life. We can't escape it. But I see you, Vlad. I see the man beneath the mask, the one who yearns for something different. Same way I do."

I let out an exhale, the sound harsh in the stillness of the night. "And what is it that I yearn for? Don't tell me those are redemption or forgiveness. Those are luxuries I can't afford. We can't afford. You know it."

"No," Nico says softly, his gaze piercing through the haze of my intoxication. "You yearn for connection, for understanding. For someone to see the scars you hide and love you anyway."

His words crash something deep within me, and I feel the walls I've so carefully constructed crumble. "And you think you can be that someone?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nico's fingers brush against my cheek, a featherlight touch. A spark in the darkness. "I know I can," he says, his conviction unwavering. "If you let me."

The desire to surrender, to allow him in, is overwhelming. But the fear is there too, the fear of letting someone see the darkest parts of me and recoiling in disgust.

"I don't know how," I admit. "I've been alone for so long, Nico. I don't know if I remember how to let someone in. I'm scared." The drunken confession is torn from my throat. "I'm scared of what will happen to you if I let you in."

"You think I'm well-versed in this? I'm pretty scared too."

Alcohol clouds my consciousness and I sway pulled by the gravity in various directions.

Nico's arms catch me once more. "I think it's best you lie down, Hot Shot."

"One of your brightest ideas," I slur into the crook of his neck as he steers us back inside.

"Where's your bedroom, Vlad?"

I gesture vaguely toward the stairs. "Up... second door on the left."

He leads me slowly up the staircase, each step a monumental effort as my legs threaten to give way beneath me. The hallway seems like the longest stretch of space I've ever seen. Finally, we stumble into the bedroom together, Nico's strong arms the only thing keeping me upright.

The room is spinning and bathed in shadows, the faint glow of the outside lights filtering through the curtains. Nico helps me to the bed, easing me down onto the mattress with a tenderness that makes me question my own doubts of him.

I feel the whisper of his touch as he removes my shoes, his hands gentle but sure. The mattress dips as he sits beside me, his fingers brushing the strand of hair from my forehead.

"You should get some rest now," he murmurs. "You've had a bit too much to drink."

I want to protest and tell him that something absurd about my blood being half-vodka, but my mouth won't listen to me. Instead, I find myself reaching for him, my hand groping blindly in the semi-darkness until I find his.

"I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

He squeezes my hand, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. "You're not alone, Vlad. I'm here."

The certainty in his voice is the best medicine for my battered soul. I feel the weight of his body as he stretches out beside me, his arms drawing me close until our bodies are one.

The steady thrum of his pulse fills my ears, a comforting rhythm that lulls me toward sleep. But even as I drift off, the fear still lingers, a whisper in the back of my mind.

"It's a pity this has to end, Romeo."

Nico's arms tighten around me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "Shh," he soothes. "Don't think about that now. Just sleep, Vlad. Just sleep."

And so I do, surrendering to the pull of unconsciousness. The warmth of Nico's embrace chases me down into the depths of slumber where our cruel reality doesn't exist.

CHAPTER22

NICO

The phone's ringing is an unexpected sound during a lunch on the back terrace with my aunt. I fumble for it on the table, nearly knocking over a half-filled glass of wine. Vlad's code name—Hot Shot—flashes on the screen like a beacon in the darkness, and my only hope is Chiara isn't as sharp anymore and doesn't see it.

It's a dead giveaway, I think to myself. Better to change that to Juliette.

Wait, no! That story ends in a tragedy and I'm not ready to die yet. Or part with Vlad.

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