This is on Eliseo and his hunger for revenge. On Miko for caving to sibling pressure.
But most of all, it’s on me.
She collapses against my chest, her cheek resting on my shoulder, her trembling limbs threateningly close to shaking my foundations.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
Every muscle in my body tenses.
“I hate you so much.” Her fingers tangle in my shirt, tugging, kneading. “But I still can’t stop hoping the man I once believed in is still buried somewhere beneath the surface.”
I clench my jaw, battling to ignore her faith. Fighting not to care.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I murmur.
She pulls back again, her expression filled with exhaustion, the hint of building tears threatening to break me.
“Are you really?” she whispers. “Do you truly feel sorry?”
Her questions don’t just pierce—they calcify, adding more weight I’ll be forced to carry without complaint.
Icouldsay yes. Give her that much. But the truth?
It will endanger her life. And my siblings’ along with it.
So I look away. Briefly. Just to get a goddamn grip.
Delicate fingers graze my chin, lightly coaxing and fucking dangerous as she drags my gaze back to hers.
“Do you care?” Her voice is steadier this time. “Do you understand that I once adored you?”
“Isla…” Her name scrapes out, raw, frayed, more warning than warmth.
“One kiss,” she says softly, still shivering. “That’s all it took for me to feel like there would never be anyone else.”
I drop my arms to my sides. Clench my fists to keep from touching her.
She needs to stop this spiral—hersandmine.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought…” Her voice trails. “How many times I’ve wondered…”
“What?” I bite out. Too fast. Too rough. Because Ineedthe answer, and I fucking hate that I do.
“If it would still feel the same.” Her focus drops to my mouth. “If I’d still lose myself a second time after all you’ve done.”
Shit.
I grab her hips, intending to push her back. To place space between us.
Instead, my grip lingers.
I should end this. Shut it down. Walk away and salt the goddamn earth.
But she’s trembling, soaked, wrapped in towels and heartache, and still somehow looking at me like I’m something worthy of the wreckage.
I shake my head.
This isn’t safe.