Chapter 29 #2
I’ve never been one to beg, but something dangerously close to desperation claws at my chest as I watch her weigh her response. The silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken questions about boundaries and compromise, about whether we can find common ground.
Eve’s gaze holds mine, unflinching. “I’ve seen your world now, Remy. The shadows you operate in, the lines you cross.” Her fingers trace along my jaw, gentle despite the steel in her voice. “And I’ve watched you make choices that should horrify me.”
I swallow hard, but I force myself to maintain eye contact, to face whatever judgment she’s about to deliver.
“If you were anything like Ano—” A flash of darkness crosses her features. “If you were truly evil like him, I would destroy you without hesitation. Without a single regret.”
The words hit like a physical blow, but there’s something in her tone that makes me pause. She leans closer, her breath warm against my skin.
“But I trust my instincts, Remy. They’ve kept me alive in war zones, helped me navigate the worst humanity has to offer.” Her hand slides to cup my cheek. “And I would never have fallen for a monster.”
The implication of her words stops my breath. My heart pounds against bruised ribs as I search her face, looking for any sign of manipulation or calculation. But all I see is raw honesty in those eyes that have haunted me for eight years.
Before I can find my voice, Liv cups my cheek. “I love you.” The words fall soft but certain between us. “I love you, Remy Harding.”
Her confession hangs in the air like smoke, dangerous and intoxicating. I try to speak, but she shakes her head, silencing me with another brush of her fingers against my lips.
“And that’s exactly why I’ll hold you accountable,” she continues, her voice gaining an edge of steel beneath the tenderness. “Because I see you—all of you. The darkness and the light. The man who’ll break bones to protect what’s his, and the one who risks everything to do what’s right.”
I reach out, my fingers ghosting over the bruise marring her cheek. The touch is feather-light, careful not to cause pain, but I can’t stop the darkness that wells up inside me at the sight of it. “Think carefully about what you’re saying, Eve.”
The evening shadows creep across the floor, painting everything in shades of gray. It feels fitting for the weight of what I need to confess.
“You say you see all of me?” My voice comes out rough, edges sharp enough to cut. “Then understand this—I am not a good man. Control isn’t just something I want; it’s what I need. Every situation, every person, every outcome—I have to own it all.”
I keep my eyes locked on her face, searching for the moment reality sets in.
“Manipulation is as natural to me as breathing. I calculate every word and every gesture, mapping out reactions and consequences three steps ahead. Even now, part of me is analyzing your responses, looking for weaknesses I can exploit.”
The confession tastes bitter on my tongue, but I force myself to continue. “The darkness in me… it’s not something that can be fixed or changed. It’s fundamental to who I am. I will always seek to dominate, to possess, to control.”
I expect her to pull away, to finally see the monster beneath the polished exterior. Instead, she leans into my touch, her eyes never wavering from mine.
“I don’t need you to change.” Her words slice through my defenses with surgical precision. “I just need to know that you’ll trust me to stand beside you, not behind you.” Her lips curve into a dangerous smile. “And if you forget, remember how I took my father down.”
That pulls a dark laugh from my chest despite the pain in my ribs. My smile turns predatory as I trace my thumb along her jawline. “You’ll never be safe with me,” I tell her, the words carrying all the weight of a blood oath. “But I’ll make sure you’re never a victim again.”
It’s both a warning and promise, sealed in the growing darkness of our shared shadows. My fingers tangle in her hair, drawing her closer as the last light fades from the room.
I can’t stand the distance between us anymore. Even these few feet feel like miles, stretching my already frayed control to its limits. Without a word, I shift painfully on the bed, each movement sending fire through my ribs. The space I create beside me is an unspoken invitation.
“Come here.” My voice is rough, more command than request.
Eve’s eyes narrow slightly. “Your ribs—”
“I don’t care about my ribs.” The words come out sharp, edged with the desperation I can’t quite hide. “I need you closer.”
She studies me for a moment, that calculating gaze I’ve come to know so well. Then she moves with careful grace, settling beside me on the bed. The mattress dips slightly, and I have to bite back a groan as the movement jars my injuries.
“Stubborn bastard,” she mutters, but there’s warmth beneath the exasperation.
“You knew that when you fell for me.” I wrap my arm around her, drawing her closer despite the protest of broken ribs. Her head comes to rest on my shoulder, and something inside me finally settles.
“We’re going to fight,” she says after a moment, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “You know that, right? Your need to control everything, my refusal to be controlled—”
“I’m counting on it.” I press my lips to her temple, breathing in her scent. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t challenge me at every turn.”
She shifts to look up at me, eyes glinting in the dim light. “And you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try to orchestrate every detail of my life.”
“Not every detail.” My hand slides into her hair, cradling the back of her head. “Just the ones that keep you alive and in my bed.”
“Remy.” There’s warning in her tone but also amusement.
“We’ll make our own rules, Eve.” I tighten my grip on her hair, feeling her slight shiver at the darkness in my voice. “And we’ll make the world bend to them.”
She presses closer, our bruises aligning like a map of everything we’ve survived. “Your world or mine?”
“Ours.” The word falls between us like a promise written in shadow and blood. “Whatever we build together.”
Her breath catches, and I feel the moment she accepts this truth—that we’re beyond the point of no return, bound together by something darker and deeper than either of us anticipated.