Page 40 of Crystal Wrath
“What am I in all this?” I ask quietly, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
He meets my gaze directly. “Collateral damage. At first. Now...” He pauses as if struggling with the words. “Now I don't know. Something more.”
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. I don't respond immediately, instead letting the truth of his admission settle in my mind.
“You grew up in this?” I probe, unable to imagine a childhood surrounded by such darkness.
“Born into it. But I didn't choose it. Not really.” He hesitates, and I see the internal struggle as he decides how much to reveal. “My father wasn't a kind man. Respected, yes. Feared. But never warm. I was a reminder to his wife of his betrayal. The son of his mistress and living proof of his infidelity. My mother died when I was a baby. Murdered, most believe. I never got to know her.”
The pain in his voice is unmistakable, and I feel my own heart clench in response. Despite everything, the danger, the secrets, the criminal empire he controls, he's just a man who lost his mother before he could form memories of her.
“I never knew my father,” I find myself sharing, though I hadn't planned to. “He was cruel to my mother. She ran with me when I was still in diapers, leaving everything behind to give me a chance at something better. She worked herself into the ground to make sure I had opportunities she never did. I owe her everything.”
It’s brief, but something registers in his expression. A subtle recognition, or maybe something deeper.
“Sometimes, you remind me of the stories I’ve heard about her,” he murmurs. “Stubborn. Fierce. Always trying to fix things that were already beyond saving.”
The comparison catches me off guard, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “And you...” I pause, struggling to articulate something Ibarely understand myself. “You make me want to believe there's more to this life than just surviving it.”
The words are more honest than I intended, and more revealing than I'm comfortable with. But they're true, and after everything that's happened, I'm tired of hiding from difficult truths.
I rise from my chair slowly, drawn by a feeling deep in my chest. He watches me approach, tension coiling in his muscles, but he doesn't move away when I stop in front of him. Instead, he looks up at me with those devastating hazel eyes, waiting to see what I'll do next.
Without giving myself time to overthink it, I slide into his lap like it's the most natural thing in the world. His arms come around me immediately, settling on my waist, holding me close but not constraining me. The position puts us at eye level, intimate, without being overwhelming.
“I don't trust you,” I whisper, the confession escaping before I can stop it.
His smile is sad but understanding. “I know.”
“But I want to,” I continue, and his grip on me tightens slightly. “I want to trust you. I want to believe that you're different from what everyone tells me you are. I want to think that maybe there's something real between us that isn't just about protection or convenience or whatever this started as.”
He reaches up to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with infinite gentleness. “Then I'll give you reasons to,” he promises, and something in his voice makes me believe him despite every rational objection my mind can produce.
We sit like that for a long time, saying nothing, just breathing each other in. His scent surrounds me and makes me want to bury my face in his neck and forget about the world outside these walls.
I let myself imagine for a moment that this is real. That we're just two people who found each other against impossible odds, and the danger, the secrets, and the criminal empire are all just obstacles we can overcome together.
It's a beautiful fantasy, and for tonight, in this room filled with poetry and the solid warmth of his body against mine, I let myself believe it might actually be possible.
13
RENAT
The first light of dawn filters through the windows of my office, painting the bay in hues of silver and steel. I don't move from the leather armchair despite the stiffness settling into my limbs. My elbows rest on the desk, fingers steepled beneath my chin, eyes fixed on the untouched glass of vodka I poured hours ago. I haven't slept.
Elena.
Her name alone stirs something volatile in my chest. I can still feel her in my hands, taste her defiance on my tongue, and hear her accusations echoing through the library as we stood toe to toe, our fury turning into fire. The memory of her legs wrapped around me, and the way she whispered my name haunts every corner of my mind. I tried to make her see reason and warn her. Instead, we crossed a line neither of us should have. I stripped her defenses and gave her a glimpse into a world that has no place for softness.
The scent of her perfume clings to my shirt, a floral whisper that makes my jaw clench. I should have taken a shower, changed clothes, anything to distance myself from what happenedbetween us. But part of me wants to hold onto it, this tangible reminder that for a brief moment, someone looked at me like I was more than just a monster in an expensive suit.
And yet, here I sit, unable to banish the image of her from my mind. The stubborn tilt of her chin. The hurt in her voice when she accused me of keeping her prisoner. The way she looked at me like she wanted to understand me and hated herself for it. The contradiction in her eyes when she told me she didn't trust me but wanted to. Those words pierced me in a way no blade ever could.
I run my hand through my hair, the familiar strain of responsibility creeping across my shoulders. She doesn't belong here. Not in this life. Not with a man like me. What we did last night was reckless. Dangerous. And I can't let it happen again. No matter how much my body craves her touch, no matter how the memory of her soft moans threatens to drive me to madness.
The rational part of my brain knows I should send her away. Find her a safehouse in another city, maybe even another country. Give her a new identity and enough money to start over somewhere Bennato's reach can't find her. It would be the smart thing to do. The right thing to do.
But the thought of Elena disappearing from my life forever makes something violent twist in my gut. The idea of waking up in this estate without her presence somewhere within these walls feels like a death sentence I'm not prepared to serve.
