16. I Actually Just Forgot There Were Dead Bodies
16
I ACTUALLY JUST FORGOT THERE WERE DEAD BODIES
EZRA
The fire is the only light in the room, its glow flickering over Kruz’s face as she lies against me.
Her head rests on my shoulder, her breath soft and even against my neck. For a moment, I let myself believe that this is normal—that we’re just two people finding comfort in each other.
But we’re not.
“How are you so calm?” she asks, her voice quiet and unsteady. She’s asked me this so many times now. “After finding literal dead bodies washed up on the island, how are you not losing it?”
I don’t answer immediately. What am I supposed to say?
That I’ve seen worse?
That I’ve done worse?
That I’m not calm—I’m just better at hiding it?
That for a few hours, I actually just forgot there were dead bodies to deal with because her pussy was too good? And now, even though I really need to deal with it, it’s too dark out for me to see what the fuck I’m doing?
My thumb moves in slow circles on her side, grounding myself in her warmth.
“You get used to it,” I say, my voice too quiet. “Or you learn how to fake it.”
She shifts, pulling back to look at me. Her eyes are searching, accusing. “Pretend you’re okay with… dead bodies washing up? Drugs? Whatever the hell this life is?”
My jaw tightens.
She doesn’t understand.
How could she?
“You think I’m okay with this?” I snap, then force my voice to soften. “I don’t have the luxury of losing it, Kruz. Not when there’s too much at stake.” Not when it’s you I’m most likely to lose now.
Her gaze doesn’t waver, but her lips part slightly, as if she wants to argue but can’t quite find the words.
I hate how easily she sees through me. She’s always had this ability to dig beneath my armor, to find the cracks I thought I’d hidden well enough. With anyone else, I’d shut down, retreat. And a lot of times I have had to in order to keep her safe.
But with her, I feel a pull—a force that’s been dragging me under since the moment we met. It urges me to unearth my deepest secrets, my innermost thoughts, and every raw emotion I’ve buried, letting them rise to the surface until they overflow, laid bare for her to take, hold, or destroy as she pleases.
The words come before I can stop them. “That chip you’re so curious about—it’s a video. A file the Assembly keeps on every member. Proof of the worst thing we’ve done. Insurance, so no one can ever leave.”
Her expression shifts, shock mingling with something like horror. Her lips tremble before she speaks. “What’s yours?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper, probably because she doesn’t really want to know the answer.
I sure as shit don’t want to give it.
I want to lie.
God , I want to lie.
But I owe her the truth. If there’s one thing she’s never had from me fully, it’s honesty.
She’s had every other fucking part of me , not that she knows it.
“They filmed me killing someone,” I say flatly.
Her breath catches. The sound tears through the room. “ What? ”
She knows I’ve killed people. Hell, a few nights ago I killed someone inches from where she sat.
Is it the fact that there’s proof of it out there floating around that has her so shocked?
“I was seventeen.” My gaze fixes on the fire, unwilling to meet her eyes. These are things I would have never wanted to share with her, details I wish I could continue to protect her from. “It was part of my ongoing ‘initiation.’ They said it was necessary, that it proved loyalty. But it wasn’t about loyalty. It was about control. They filmed it to keep me under their thumb.”
Her silence cuts deeper than any accusation.
But then, slowly, her hand reaches for mine. Her fingers thread through mine, warm and soft, anchoring me in this moment. The touch is too much, and yet, not enough.
“It wasn’t someone I knew,” I continue, my voice colder now. “Just some guy. A stranger. A nobody. They handed me a gun, told me to do it, and then they filmed the whole thing.”
It’s a common practice in circles like the one I’ve been forced to run in—a tale as old as time. Why fix something that’s not broken? It works.
But she wouldn’t know that.
Most things that were accepted as normal in my family would make the average person lose their fucking mind.
Her hand tightens on mine, her warmth cutting through the ice in my chest. “Ezra…” she breathes, her voice a fragile thread.
I exhale, the breath shaky. “That chip—it’s the key to taking them down. If it falls into the right hands, it has the potential to dismantle everything . Their secrets, their leverage—it all unravels. And maybe then, I get to walk away.” With you , I don’t say.
Her eyes search my face, wide and uncertain, like she’s trying to piece together the jagged fragments of who I am. “Where is it now?” she asks, her voice soft but steady.
A ghost of a smile pulls at my lips. “Exactly where it needs to be.”
With certain pieces of data completely wiped from existence .
But I don’t want to give her hope. Not yet.
The room is quiet except for the crackle of the fire, but my confession hangs heavy between us.
Her gaze lingers on me, like she’s trying to memorize every line of my face.
I mapped and memorized every inch of her body a long time ago.
The world is full of chaos, but she’s the one thing I want to keep perfectly mine.
I know she has more questions, and I know I owe her more answers.
But all I can think about is how badly I’ve failed.
I was supposed to keep her safe. To keep this from touching her. And yet, here we are—storm-ravaged, surrounded by death, with ghosts creeping in from all sides. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to hold the line, the past keeps finding ways to bleed into the present. It’s like quicksand, swallowing everything I care about before I even have the chance to pull them free.
I should have seen this coming. Should have done more, known more, been more. But all I have are the bodies left in the wake of my mistakes, every misstep pulling me under just a little bit further.
And I voice as much out loud.
Her fingers trail over the brand on my chest, her touch light, almost reverent. “You didn’t fail, Ezra,” she says quietly. “The Assembly did this to all of you.”
Her words are a lifeline, a thread of absolution I don’t deserve.
But I let myself hold on, just for a moment.
In the quiet that follows, I tell her more than I ever planned to.
My fears.
My failures.
The things that keep me awake at night.
She listens, her eyes never leaving mine.
For once, there isn’t a tinge of mistrust behind the way she looks at me.
She just sees me.
When the fire burns low and the room grows colder, she stays close. Her breath steadies against my chest, and her fingers curl into my shirt.
I hold her tighter because for now, this will have to be enough.
But it’s not.
Not when her every breath, her every touch, feeds this ache inside me.
The way she looks at me, like she sees through every mask I’ve ever worn, makes me want to burn the world down just to keep her safe.
She doesn’t understand what she’s done to me—what she’s made me.
Her fingers trace patterns on my skin, absentminded but deliberate, and I wonder if she knows how easily she could destroy me.
How she already has.
Some people fall in love. I tripped, face planted, and somehow managed to drag her down with me.
“Kruz,” I murmur, her name on my lips is the closest thing to a prayer I’ve ever said. “You don’t get it. You’re the only thing keeping me sane in this mess. If something happened to you…” My voice falters, the thought nearly suffocating.
Her head tilts up, her eyes meeting mine. There’s no fear in them, no hesitation. Just a quiet determination that makes me ache even more. “I’m not going anywhere, Ezra. Not without you.”
The words hit me like a hammer. I’ve spent so long believing I was untouchable, unbreakable.
But she’s proof that I’m not.
She’s the only thing that matters, and I hate myself for it. Because caring for her—wanting her—makes me weak. Vulnerable. And I can’t afford that.
I tell myself it’s just the adrenaline, just the aftermath of everything we’ve been through. But that’s a lie. I’ve felt this way since the beginning—since the moment she crashed into my life.
Still, I tighten my hold on her, my fingers curling into her back like I’m afraid she’ll vanish if I let go.
Maybe I am.
Her breath brushes my neck as she whispers, “You’re not a bad person, Ezra. No matter what you think.”
I want to believe her. I want to let her words sink in, to stitch up the torn, hollow spaces inside me. But the truth is, she doesn’t know me.
Not really.
Not like I want her to.
She knows the pieces I’ve shown her, the fragments I’ve let slip through the cracks. The parts that make me look salvageable.
If she saw the rest—if she knew how fucking obsessed I am with her—she’d run. Far, far away, and never look back.
Because the sad fact is, kidnapping her is the least of what I would do to keep her safe.
Safe and mine.
And maybe that’s why I’m holding on so tightly now.
Because for once in my life, someone sees the worst parts of me and doesn’t think I’m the villain.
For once, someone looks at me and doesn’t flinch.
And I’m terrified of what I’ll become if I lose that.
If I lose her.
For now, I let myself pretend that she’s right. That I can be more than what the Assembly made me. That this moment—her warmth, her touch, her breath against my skin—can be enough to quiet the chaos inside me.
But deep down, I know it’s a lie.
Because nothing will ever be enough.
Not until the Assembly is destroyed.
Not until she’s safe.
And maybe not even then.