Page 121 of Sins of the Hidden

He walked into her room, footsteps fading, then pausing upon entering. "Oak?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get a new bed?"

Her face bloomed with color. "Y-Yeah."

"What happened to your old one?"

I spoke for her, "We broke it."

A retching sound came from her bedroom, theatrical disgust that made Oakley's blush deepen. I pulled the small cookbook from my pocket. This wasn't an apology, wasn't groveling orregret. It was proof of thoughts about her, that she was never far from mind. That was better than words, more tangible than promises.

Handing it over to her, our fingers brushing in the exchange. I fucking missed her touch. She looked at the pages in amazement, wonder replacing her catatonic state for a brief moment. "Where did you get this?"

I couldn’t tell her. But she accepted that as her eyes sparked for the first time in days, light returning like the first ray after endless rain. Her fingertips smoothed against the worn pages, eyes lighting up more as she turned a page, then another. The paper rustled under her touch, each page turned with increasing care, as though afraid to damage the gift.

Her fingers traced the cover carefully, as if uncertain she had the right to keep it. Oakley's expression softened slightly, thawing at the edges. Her throat moved in a small swallow, pupils dilating as she held the book closer to her chest, a subtle protective gesture.

Her gaze shifted from the recipes to me, something knowing in her expression as she studied my face. I couldn't tell if she was seeing through me or piecing something together. She didn't soften completely, walls still partially in place, but her lips parted slightly before she said, "This was very thoughtful of you."

Not a thank you. But I would take the acknowledgement.

Law walked out of the bedroom back into the living room, discomfort evident. "I got some things to do. We'll talk this out soon, okay?"

Oakley nodded as Law made his way to the front door, hinges protesting softly behind him. His eyes lingered one last time on her ring—the gold band branding her as mine.

Let him stare. Let him hate it. I'd put that ring there, but it wasn't what bound her to me. She could pry it off her finger, throw it into the fucking sea, and it wouldn't matter.

She was mine in ways she didn't understand yet. Ways she couldn't undo.

Not Law.

Not regret.

Not even Oakley herself.

The bed was cold, empty sheets where V should have been.

I'd been suspended between numbness and anger for days now, nights spent with eyes closed, breathing measured while V waited in that purgatory of unspoken words nearby.

Something on the mirror caught my eye, a dark square among the still broken glass. V had taken to leaving Greek words which was a new addition, written in his sharp, distinctive script.

Paramoní.

I stared at the unfamiliar word, knowing instinctively what it meant before my mind translated it: Stay. Not a command, not exactly. More like a tether looped quietly around my throat.

I traced the letters, a shiver crawling through me like ice water through veins—the ghost of his hand lingering with every stroke. When had he left this? Last night, while I pretended to sleep, my breathing was too forced to be believable? This morning before he disappeared to his morning workout?

How long could I hold onto this anger before it drowned me? I was exhausted, not just from sleepless nights but from the constant vigilance of maintaining this wall between us—brick by emotional brick, mortar mixed with fear and resolve that crumbled faster than I could rebuild it.

All I needed was to look at the ashes where my heart once was—the hollow cavity he'd carved out with calloused hands that knew exactly how to break without leaving external bruises, filled with his poison that ran through my veins. Each beat a metronome counting down to inevitable destruction, a reminder that the man I'd fallen for was just a beautiful mask worn by a monster who knew exactly where to press to make me bleed, which wounds would scar and which would kill.

The emptiness of the apartment seemed to mock me, every corner haunted by memories I couldn't escape.

"Paramoní," I whispered to myself, the word still echoing in my mind from the mirror as I ripped the note, the pieces falling with the rest onto the floor neither of us bothered to clean.

Stay.

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