One meeting had changed him. Just one.
Or maybe he’d always been like this—this darker, sharper version—and I’d only ever seen the mask. Maybe the sinister man sitting beside me had always existed, patiently playing a role for my benefit.
How kind.
How benevolent.
“So,” I said lightly, sitting beside him and reaching for his wine. “You’re alive.”
He snorted. “Disappointed?”
I took a slow sip of the red, buying myself a second to breathe. “No. You’re my husband, after all. Your success is my success.” I set the glass down carefully. “I take it they didn’t hate you?”
He shook his head. “I think I could’ve tolerated them liking me less.”
His hand drifted to the gun on his thigh.
“If I told you their first assignment for me was to kill you,” he said quietly, “what would you say?”
My heart stuttered. “I’d say that’s silly,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “I have no intel on them, so you’re probably bluffing.” I swallowed. “Then I’d follow it up with… I’ve heard worse. And honestly? It sounds about right.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even move.
I stared at the fire. “That my life would end quietly. No drama. No meaning. Like I never really existed.” My chest tightened. “Sometimes I scroll through my memories and wonder if I’ve done anything worth bragging about. Good grades. Too many one-night stands. I spend money well.”
Still nothing. As if he was one of those life-like wax statues.
A tear slid down my cheek. “I’d like to think I’m loyal. A good friend. Loyal to a fault.” I laughed softly. “But nobody brags about loyal friends. Dogs get more credit. At least they offer warmth. Protection. Purpose.”
The fire crackled.
I thought of Grandpa Frank. Of his voice. Of all the moments I’d swallowed myself whole to make everyone else comfortable.
I should’ve listened. I should’ve run. I should’ve screamed instead of kneeling.
Slowly, I slid off the couch and sank to my knees in front of him. I looked up, vision blurred.
“Make it quick,” I whispered. “I don’t like long goodbyes.”
His blue eyes locked onto mine—steel-hard, unreadable. His jaw ticked so hard I thought it might shatter right along with my heart. How poetic of us.
“Thanks for marrying me,” I said softly. “Tell Cassian I’m sorry I didn’t finish… whatever this was.”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
I smiled at death. At least it was handsome. At least it was him.
“Don’t,” Louis said, his voice breaking. He inhaled sharply. “Ever.”
His hands shot out, gripping my elbows as the gun slid away. He hauled me onto his lap like he couldn’t stand the distance another second.
Before I could speak, he kissed me—hard, desperate, unrestrained. The kind of kiss that wasn’t about pleasure but proof of how he felt—about us, about the shitty situation, about everything. This kiss was mine and only mine—no vials, no sister, no Family—us.
“You’re mine,” he said against my mouth. “Through life and death. You stay by my side. No matter what.” His voice took on a desperate sort of tone as he kissed me harder likeimprinting himself on me was the only way to get through the next few hours. I’d always wanted to be seen—and now I knew—I hadn’t just wanted to be seen—I’d wanted to be needed with such ferocity that the person was sick with it. I’d needed to be someones air.
His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth traced my throat. “Say it.”
Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t understand what was happening—only that I didn’t want it to stop.