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Slowly, he pulls my mask off and sets it aside, staring deep into my watery eyes.

This is what we always were to each other: a painful truth, a twisted love, impossible to ignore. So we embraced it. We aren’t pretty—we’re ugly, unwanted weeds, pushing through cracked concrete. We don’t have soft velvet petals, but we sure as hell know how to survive a tough landscape.

“I wanted you to pick your future. No one else,” he says. “I want you to pick me.” He shifts, pressing his weight into me. Gifting me with that haunting feeling of him on top of me.

“What if I don’t pick you?”

“Look where we are, Rylan. If this isn’t you picking me, I don’t know what is.”

“I told Anders I was going to kill you,” I admit. “What? You don’t think I could?”

“You could, but you won’t.” Steffen shifts, his weight pressing into my side as his fingers slide through my hair, tucking it behind my ear with a touch that lingers too long. “You have a flaw like me, Rylan. We let our hearts control us, not our minds.” His words are a low murmur against my skin, his breath warm.

Then his mouth claims mine, teeth catching my lower lip as he tugs, tasting. I open for him, and his moan vibrates between us, raw and hungry.

I lose myself in the kiss, his mouth devouring mine. I wait for the tension to drain from his body, but it only coils tighter. The scent of damp earth and Steffen—leather, rain, wildness—fills my lungs. Leaves crackle as he grinds his hips into mine, hungry, relentless. My hands move over his back, slow, deliberate, every touch a test.

The cold weight of the gun in my palm sends a jolt up my spine. I press the barrel to his temple. He doesn’t flinch. He kisses me harder, daring me.

The sharp click of the safety snaps the moment.

Steffen finally pulls back, but his gaze never drops to the gun—my gun, the one Cillian pressed into my hand and taught me to wield.

Steffen’s blue, unblinking eyes stay locked on mine, daring me to move.

“I’m not the girl you fell in love with.”

“I didn’t fall for a girl. I fell in love with a woman who was lost and confused. How dare you think that now that she wants to control her life, I will retreat. I’m not leaving. I’ll fight by your side, Rylan.”

I shake my head. The gun trembles between us, betraying the storm raging inside me.

“I love you.”

“You don’t know what love is,” I snap as I press the gun deeper into his temple.

He sinks deeper into me; his voice dropping low. “Love is passion so intense it drives you mad at times,” he replies. “Love is ruin, and I’m staring it in the eyes right now. You. You want to ruin me—to ruin them. Unlock it. Ruin us. Love us.”

I stare at him, his sharp jaw, those blue eyes that drag me into a chasm. My finger slides over the safety, and I put it back on. I drop the gun, reach up, and grab his shoulders, push him over, and straddle him. He lies back, allowing me to do whatever I want.

“I decided,” I admit.

Reaching for his shirt, I grab the hem and push it up. I take my time to look at his scars, missing the feeling of his marked skin under my fingertips. Such deep layers of pain he exchanged for just the prospect of my voice over the phone.

I trace the tattoo over his chest. Ink that represents me.

“I thought of a punishment for you,” I confess as I let my hand rest over his heart.

His hands grip my thighs, anchoring me to him. I lean back just enough to let the heat between us thicken, then slide my jacket off my shoulders, baring my arms inch by inch. My fingers push up my sleeves, exposing skin I want him to see.

I lower my voice, letting it brush against his ear. “I thought you should know who I chose to share my future with.”

Holding out my arm, I allow his blue eyes to look at the fresh ink now forever marking my inner elbow. He sits up, keeping hold of me on top of him.

“I feel the weight of what I stole from you,” I confess. “I still have it.” I follow his gaze and look at the tattoo of a heart in a cage—his heart.

His lips curl into a smile that restores all his glow. He lowers his lips and kisses the tattoo.

“You caged my heart,” he mutters in pure joy. He can’t peel his eyes off the tattoo.