Page 118 of Twisted Devotion

His expression hardens slightly, but I press on. “It’s different when it’s the man I love. The man who holds me at night. The man I share a bed with.” My voice wavers. “The man who kisses me like I’m his whole world.”

His body goes still, his eyes dark and unreadable.

I take a shaky breath. “I watched you kill him, Nicolas. I watched you torture him before you did.”

He stands up, and I can see his jaw tightening. His hands clench at his sides. When he speaks, his voice is ice-cold. “This is who I am, Aria. And that’s not going to change.”

The finality in his words hits me like a slap. He turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him.

I can still see the blood. I can still hear the shot. And I don’t know how to live with it.

I don’t know where he went. I sit in bed, curled beneath the blankets, but the cold still seeps in.

The space beside me remains empty, and the sun that had just risen a few moments ago begins to set. Or maybe time just passed too quickly.

When the door finally opens, Nicolas walks in without a word. He shrugs off his jacket, unbuttons his shirt, and folds both neatly by the side.

I don’t move.

He slides into bed beside me but he doesn’t touch me.

He always touches me.

But not tonight.

I stare at the ceiling, my hands clenching into fists. The distance between us feels too much. I wish I could pretend nothing has changed, that everything is as it was before. But it has. And I’m unsure if things can ever return to how they were.

I wait, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing, the soft rhythm that signals he’s drifted into sleep.

I slip quietly from the bed when his steady breathing settles into the room.

My hands tremble as I gather a few things into a small bag—just a jacket, a change of clothes, something simple. My heart pounds in my chest, but I keep moving, unable to stop.

I pause by the door, glancing back at him.

Nicolas is still, lost in his sleep.

I take a deep breath, stepping into the cool air of the hallway. The silence around me is heavy.

The guards don’t stop me when I walk past. They don’t ask questions when I request the keys to one of the cars.

I head outside, the crisp night air hitting my skin as I settle into the driver’s seat.

And then I drive.

Tears spill down my cheeks, and I’m unsure if it’s because I left… or because a part of me wishes he had said something sooner, something to make me stay.

28

NICOLAS

The second Aria steps out of the room, I open my eyes.

I listen to the sound of her footsteps fading, the quiet click of the front door closing behind her, and then the low hum of the car as it disappears into the night. I don’t move. I don’t stop her.

I told my men earlier that if she wanted to leave, they should let her—no questions, no hesitation.

Now, she’s gone.

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