Page 51
My voice cracks despite my efforts to hold it together. "Connect the dots, Darius. Everywhere I go, the people around me end up bleeding. Those who stand by me are brought directly into the thick of the action—every single time."
He takes another step forward, those eyes searching my face. "You think running solo changes that equation?"
"I think removing myself from it does." I gesture toward the door where Kellan fights for his life. "Before you, before this partnership, I worked alone. People still got hurt, but at least I wasn't dragging anyone I—"
The sentence dies in my throat, jagged and sharp.
"Anyone you what?"
Turning back to the window, I place my forehead against the cold glass. The reflection shows him standing behind me, close enough for the heat radiating from his body to wash over me, yet the gap feels infinite.
"This space you've put between us since that night at the cabin. The way you look at me like I'm a tactical error instead of..." I swallow hard. "It's killing me, Darius. And that terrifies me more than Sybil ever could."
His reflection ceases its animation, staring back as if carved from stone. “Serenity.”
"No, let me finish." I spin around to face him directly, my back against the window. "I've spent years perfecting being alone. Created walls so high that even I forgot what was behind them. But you—"
All pretense of control crumbles as my words break apart. "Being near you makes me crave a future I swore I'd never look at again. My magic calms with only a touch from you, which feels more intimate than anything I've ever experienced. Seeing the monster I could become never makes you run away."
Like blood from a wound I can't stanch, the confession pours out: "I'm falling in love with you, and it scares the hell out of me because everyone I love dies. Everyone I care about pays the price for my refusal to accept that some battles can't be won."
Darius's face goes white beneath his bronzed skin, those carefully constructed walls of his cracking visibly. His hands clench and unclench at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach for me.
"So yes, I'm leaving. Because losing you would destroy me, and I can't—I won't let that happen."
The room falls so quiet I can hear the healer working on Kellan through the wall. The soft whoosh of magic mixes with the clink of surgical instruments. Beneath it all, I detect the ragged whistle of damaged lungs fighting for air.
Darius holds his position, his silence commanding. His posture locks in incredible tension, and his hands flex at his sides in a familiar, disciplined cadence. I’m seeing the peak of his self-regulation—a masterclass in aligning the wolf’s raw energy to his unwavering professional resolve. But something is different this time. The emotional barrier he's maintained since the morning after our night together—the cold, impassive distance he rebuilt brick by brick—it's fracturing. I can see it happening in real time: his composure fracturing as fissures spread across it.
He takes one step toward me, but then stops. His breathing has gone ragged, his chest rising and falling too fast for a man who prides himself on absolute control. His eyes are fully present and wide, an unprecedented openness shining through them. This expression transcends the intensity of combat and the depth of his history with the pack. It even eclipses the resolve he maintained while supporting me through the magical surges.
"Don't go."
"Give me one reason—"
"I can't do this right now." His voice breaks on the last word, and watching Darius Morvane's voice break is like watching a mountain split in half. He drags a hand down his face, turning away from me, shoulders heaving. "Kellan is on that table. And my mind is everywhere. But Serenity—Rene—" He stops himself, slamming his fist against the doorframe hard enough that the wood groans. "Just... stay. Give me until morning. Can you do that?"
The request lingers in the silence, fragile and enormous. He refuses to look at me. His entire body trembles with the effort of holding something back—something huge and terrifying that's clawing its way to the surface.
I set my bag down on the floor. "Until morning," I whisper.
His shoulders drop, which releases the tension that comes from bracing for a blow that didn't land. He walks out without another word and closes the door shut behind him, and I hear his footsteps transport him down the hall toward Kellan's room.
I sink back into the leather chair, knees to my chest, and stare at the moonlight on the lake until my eyes burn. He withheld the reason I asked for. But the shatter in his voice on 'don't go'—and the way he kept his gaze away from mine while he said it—told me everything his words refused to.
Morning feels like a lifetime away.
20
DARIUS
Dawn filters through the safe house windows, catching dust motes that dance in the quiet air. I haven't slept—couldn't, with Serenity's words echoing through my skull. I'm falling in love with you. The confession continues to reverberate. Every wall I've built over the past seven years feels like paper now.
I find her in the kitchen, standing at the counter with her back to me, her shoulders rigid as if she's bracing herself for bad news. She's made coffee—two cups sit steaming beside her elbow, and the simple domesticity of it twists something sharp behind my ribs.
"Ro's stable." A rough edge grates through, though I quicken the pace to match my actual relief. "Healer says he'll be back to his usual smartass self within a couple of days."
Her shoulders drop fractionally, relief bleeding through her posture. She turns, and I catch the exhaustion written across her face—dark circles beneath those eyes, skin pale with worry and sleeplessness. She's been torturing herself all night by holding herself outright accountable for every single one of his injuries.
