She shakes her head slowly. “I will never be safe, Elias. Not until he’s dead.”
There’s no fear in her voice, just icy cold resolve. If I could hand him to her on a silver platter and watch as she took the light from his fucking eyes, I would. I would give it to her ten times over just to watch her heal. My stomach tightens. Even though I want that more than anything, in reality, I have nothing. I’m chasing a fucking ghost.
I turn her to face me, her eyes adjusting to me in the light. “Stay with me,” I tell her simply, her eyes widening slightly. “Stay here. With me. I can’t protect you if you’re out in the city.”
“I can’t,” she says as she pulls away, rising from the bed to stand and pace. Her bare feet hit the floor softly, but the energy pouring off her is anything but gentle. She runs a hand through her hair, dragging it back from her face before letting it fall again as she turns towards the window and back. “Thank you for letting me stay, but I don’t want to be protected. I want my fucking life back.”
I can’t hide the sting that forms at her words. But I know she’s not angry with me. She’s angry at the situation we’ve found ourselves in.
“I can’tloseyou, Kat,” I plead. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I close the space between us, but I don’t touch her, afraid she’ll pull away further if I do.
“I have to work. I have to play gigs with Tether.” Sadness reaches her eyes when she speaks about the gigs, and I think about her broken guitar, lying in pieces in my garage.
“I’ve been paying Tether for the last few weeks, and I’ll continue to do so. If it’s money, Kat, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you, just please stay.”
“It’s not about the money, Elias!” she shouts through a stream of tears, but it’s not anger fueling the words—it’s frustration. She drops to her knees as small sobs tear through her body. “It’s freedom. Something I never had, and something I just recently touched.”
The sound that leaves her is small but devastating, like something inside her tore open at the confession. Her shoulders shake as she presses her hands to her face, trying and failing to stop the sobs from forcing their way out.
The implication of her confession hits me in the chest, and I stop mid-stride.
Of course.
Under the guise of protection, I’ve already started building walls around her. More guards. Plans about where she should and shouldn’t go. I tell myself it’s protection, but I’m quickly realizing that the line between protection and control is thinner than I’d like to admit. And I’ve been inching across it without realizing.
“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner, Kat,” I say, dropping to my knees beside her. “I want you to be safe. I promise that you can go anywhere you want. But please don’t go alone. I had a glimpse of losing you, and in that, I nearly lost myself. I can’t lose you, Kat.”
Silence stretches between us, and I don’t push it. She has to come to this on her own terms. Her breathing gradually slows, the sharp edges of her sobs softening into shaky inhales. She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. Finally, she nods. Reluctantly, but still. She nods.
“Okay,” she agrees quietly.
Relief hits me square in the chest. I pull her into me, arms locking around her on instinct. My chin rests against her hair, inhaling her scent.
“I’m sorry, Kat,” I say. I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, but rather, I’m sorry forher.
I was dangerous before. But I don’t think anyone knows that loving her means becoming something worse than I already am.
Forty-Seven
Kat
The Day I Tried To Live - Soundgarden
The coffee machine hums softly as it pours out the dark liquid into the jug, filling the kitchen with the beautiful smell of a dark roast. I lean my hip against the counter, watching the steam curl upwards, vanishing into the morning light pouring through the large windows.
It’s been a few days since HQ. A few days since my world closed in around me. Life feels stranger now. With everything that came out, I thought I would feel more… guarded, like I’m looking over my shoulder everywhere. Like it used to be. But I feel calm, safe, and protected. I’m not used to this feeling, but I can’t deny it feels good.
I don’t regret my decision to stay here. It was never a question, since what little I own is here anyway. I just felt so trapped in the moment, like everything was closing in on me the second I caught a glimpse of true freedom. The truth is, I can’t imagine living anywherebuthere. Here is home.
This morning was my first shift back at work since shit hit the fan. I had to call Cain. I struggled to explain to Kaycee why a huge, tattooed man was sitting silently in the corner of the cafe all day. Kaycee didn’t ask questions, but I did catch their eyes gravitating towards him several times. He never moved. He justsat there with his arms folded, drinking coffee after coffee and watching the room like a silent rottweiler.
Now, I pour the coffee into the white china mugs and place them carefully on a tray and carry them into the living room, where the band has spread out like they own the fucking place. It feels weird having them here. High ceilings, enormous windows. This mansion is so far from anything we’re used to. The couch alone probably cost more than every piece of furniture we’ve ever collectively owned. Even the rug beneath my feet feels too nice to step on—but I’m getting used to it.
“Oh, how the other half live,” Luca mutters, craning his neck as he takes it all in. His eyes track along the vaulted ceiling like he’s expecting a chandelier to drop on his head at any moment.
I snort. “Shut up,” I say, nudging his shoulder with my elbow as I hand him a mug.
Harper is sprawled across one end of the couch, her boots long kicked off, completely at ease. She takes her coffee and lets out a satisfied sigh. “God, it’s so nice having help,” she says, throwing a playful smirk my way. “I could get used to living in a place where things just appear.”