Page 14 of The Founder's Power

It’s almost midnight.

The city’s quieter now, the chaos softened by the hush of late hours and dim streetlamps. I sit in the car for a full minute, I don’t turn off the car immediately so my engine’s humming low before I finally cut it off. My heart’s beating like I just came out of a fight.

Maybe I have.

With myself.

With the version of me that says, “Don’t do this. Don’t make it worse.”

But I’m already out of my car.

The sidewalk is slick from a passing rain, the brick of her building glowing faintly under warm porch light. I press the buzzer on the callbox once.

Twice.

The speaker crackles. “Hello?”

Her voice is groggy, confused, and layered with sleep. Damn, I shouldn’t have come.

“Damian?” she asks, her tone a bit more alert now and far too suspicious.

“Lucky guess.”

I hear the hesitation drop into the silence like a stone.

“It’s late,” she finally says.

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know that too.”

I wait, but there’s no answer.

“I just need to see you,” I say quietly. “Please.”

A long pause.

Then the lock buzzes, and the door clicks open.

I climb the stairs two at a time. She’s in the doorway when I reach her floor, arms folded over a soft sweater, her hair a mess of waves. She looks beautiful in the kind of way that makes my throat go tight.

“I shouldn’t have let you in,” she murmurs.

“Probably not.”

She doesn’t step aside, so I do the only thing I can—I drop every defense I have left.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit. “Not with you. Not when it feels like everything I say might push you further away.”

Her eyes search mine, and I can clearly see that she’s tired of the chase, tired of not knowing if I’m offering part of me or all of me.

“I’ve spent so long building walls I forgot what it’s like to want someone more than I want control,” I say, “but I want you, and I don’t know how to want you halfway.”

Her breath catches, and neither of us moves.

“I don’t trust you,” she whispers.

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