Page 114 of The Thief
He settles beside me, careful not to jar my injured arm. "We need to talk about what happens next."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we fucked up. I fucked up. I should have been there to protect you, should have seen the attack coming."
"You couldn't have known?—"
"I should have known. That's my job, keeping you safe. And I failed."
The self-recrimination in his voice is painful to hear. "You didn't fail. You came for me. You got me out. I'm alive because of you."
"You're hurt because of me. Because I left you alone, because I underestimated how far Trace would go."
"Freddie—"
"No. Let me finish." He sits up, looking at me directly. "I love you. More than I've ever loved anything or anyone. And because I love you, I'm going to make you a promise."
"What kind of promise?"
"I'm going to protect you with everything I am, everything I have. I'm not leaving your side again, not trusting your safety to anyone else. If Trace wants to get to you, he'll have to go through me first."
"That's not sustainable. You can't watch me twenty-four hours a day."
"Watch me."
The intensity in his voice, the absolute conviction, sends a shiver down my spine. "What about your life? Your job? Your friends?"
"You are my life. You are my job. Everything else is just noise."
"That's not healthy."
"Probably not. But it's honest."
I study his face, seeing the determination there. The love, yes, but also something darker. Something possessive and dangerous.
"And if I don't want a bodyguard? If I want to live my own life, make my own choices?"
"Then we'll figure out how to do that safely. But we do it together or we don't do it at all."
The finality in his voice should scare me. It should make me worry about losing my independence, my agency. Instead, it makes me feel safer than I have since this whole nightmare started.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"Okay. But I have conditions."
"Name them."
"No lying to me about the danger. No keeping me in the dark to protect me. If something's happening, I want to know about it."
"Agreed."
"And no treating me like glass. I'm hurt, not helpless."
"Agreed."
"And when we find Trace?—"
