7 - Alessia
I close the distance between us until there’s barely any space between us.
“You’ve ignored my calls. You’ve ignored my texts. You’ve shut me out without giving me the chance to explain.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you needed a live audience for your ‘explanation’ tour. I guess I just needed some space and time, but hey, who needs that, right? After that bombshell you dropped on me!” She hisses.
My voice is steady, controlled, everything I need it to be. But beneath the surface, there’s a pulse of frustration, of fear. I can’t let her slip away.
I can see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands tighten at her sides.
But she’s not moving. Not running. Not backing away.
I can see the conflict in her eyes, the pull between wanting to walk away and wanting to hear me out.
I don’t give her time to decide I watch as her gaze locks onto mine, unreadable yet… distant.
“Harpe r,” I say softly, my hand reaching for hers, feeling the warmth of her skin as I take it. “Please. Don’t walk away.”
Her gaze flicks to my hand, her lips pressing into a thin line as if the touch is too much, too soon. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t exactly lean in, either. It’s like a quiet battle in the air between us, one I can’t win with words alone.
“You don’t get it,” she mutters, voice tight with something I can’t quite place.
“You think you can just fix this with a touch? With a ‘please’?” She shakes her head, but her hand doesn’t leave mine. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t return the squeeze, either. Her eyes flick to mine, cold as ice. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“I’m listening,” I say, keeping my tone steady, even though I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it together. “I hear everything, Harper.”
She scoffs, the sound bitter. “Do you? Because the last time we talked, you seemed pretty damn clueless. You thought you had all the answers. You thought you could fix everything with a ‘sorry,’ and—”
“And I was wrong,” I cut in before she can finish. “I know I was wrong. I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. I’m asking for a chance to make it right.”
Her jaw tightens, her eyes narrowing.
“A chance? A fucking chance?” Her words crack through the silence like a whip, each one laced with venom. “You want me to give you a chance?”
I swallo w hard, forcing myself not to flinch.
“Yes,” I say, steady but quiet. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking anyway.”
Her grip on my hand twitches, just a little, just enough that I notice, but she doesn’t let go. Her lips part like she has something else to say, something sharp, but she hesitates.
For a second, just a second, I think I see it, hesitation, uncertainty, something other than the anger she wears like armor. And I latch onto it.
“I don’t expect you to trust me,” I continue. “I just… I don’t want this to be the end. Not like this.”
Her breath shudders as she exhales. Her eyes flick away from mine, staring somewhere over my shoulder, lost in thought.
Then, finally, she speaks.
“And what if I can’t?” she whispers. “What if I can’t give you that chance?”
The words land heavier than if she was screaming at me, heavier than anything else she could have thrown at me. Because this isn’t just anger anymore. This is hurt. This is fear.
I step closer, just enough that I can remind her I’m here. “Then I’ll understand,” I say softly. “But I’ll still try.”
Her fingers tighten, just barely, but it’s enough to send something sharp and desperate cutting through my ribs. She’s still here. She’s still listening.
Seconds stretch between us, thick with unspoken words. Then, finally, Harper exhales, slow and deliberate.
“You really don’t know when to give up, do you?”
I grin, shrugging. “I gave up on learning how to whistle. But you? Not a chance.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across her lips, it’s so quick I almost need to convince myself I imagined it. But then she steps back, untangling her fingers from mine, and the loss of her warmth is immediate.
She crosses her arms, tilting her head as she studies me. Something shifts in her eyes, calculating, considering.
“Come home with me.” My stomach flips as the words stumble out of my mouth.
“What?” Her eyes go wide
“Not like that,” I mutter. “I mean… come over. Just for tonight.”
She blinks, trying to process my question. “What’s the catch?”
My eyes dart over her face, trying to figure out my next words. But all I can focus on is the way she’s looking at me, like she’s deciding whether to let me in or shut me out for good. I sigh before I say, “We talk. About everything.”
Her expression darkens, shadows flickering in her gaze.
“You say you don’t trust me, but you still don’t understand the world I come from. The world I’m tied to.”
Her eyes fall to the floor, her fingers fumbling with her keys.
“Let me show you that you can trust me, only for tonight.”
Harper studies me for another long moment like she’s waiting for me to say something stupid. When I don’t, she exhales, shaking her head.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
And just like that, the world tilts, shifting into something uncertain. Something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
Half an hour later we arrive back at my place. We drove here in an eerie silence, both of us not speaking and staring mindlessly out of the windows. I park the car in the garage and get out to open her car door.
Harper steps out, her movements cautious like she’s bracing for whatever comes next. I don’t blame her. She’s stepping into my world now, and even I don’t know what that means for her yet.
She follows me inside, her gaze flickering over the interior of my home, pristine, calculated but warm, yet strangely empty.
A contrast to the weight I carry every day.
I watch her take it in, but she doesn’t say anything, just stands near the elevator like she’s unsure if she should be here at all.
I finally break the silence. “You think I have a choice?”
Harper’s brows pull together. “What?”
I exhale, rubbing my hand down my face. “This life. The reason you don’t trust me. You think I can just walk away?”
Her expression hardens, but there’s something beneath it, something hesitant. “Everyone has a choice, Alessia.”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“Not in my family. Not in this world.” I step closer, searching her eyes, hoping she’ll see it, the truth I’ve never said out loud before.
“You t hink it’s as easy as packing a bag and leaving? That’s not how it works. You’re either in, or you’re dead . There is no middle ground.”
She swallows, and for the first time since we met, I think she finally sees the weight I carry.
“Then why bring me into it?” she asks, quieter now.
“Because you already are, Harper,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “You’re in this… because you’re in my life.”
Her lips part, but no words come. Because she knows it’s true. Because I can’t let her go, and maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t want me to.
I take a slow step back, watching as she processes, waiting for her to run. But this time she doesn’t.
Harper stares at me, her breath hitching for just a second. I see the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the way her mind races behind those sharp brown eyes. She’s always been good at keeping her walls up, but I know I just cracked something open.
She exhales slowly. “So, that’s it? I don’t get a choice either?”
I shake my head. “No, you do. But it won’t change the fact that being around me, being with me, means stepping into something dangerous. Something you might not be able to walk away from.”
She crosses her arms, studying me. “And yet, you’re giving me the chance to leave?”
“If you want to.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.
Harper doesn’t look away. “And if I stay?”
My chest tightens. I hadn’t let myself consider that. Because if she stays, there’s no going back. Not for either of us.
“If you stay,” I murmur, stepping closer, “then you need to understand what this life means. What being with me means.”
Harper tilts her head slightly. “Then tell me, Alessia. Tell me what it means.”
A beat of silence passes between us. And then, finally, I do.
I tell her about the blood, the power, the loyalty that isn’t earned but demanded. I tell her about the weight of a name like mine, about the rules written in violence and silence. I tell her about the choices that aren’t really choices at all.
And Harper listens, really listens, without flinching, without pulling away.
When I’m finished, the air between us is heavy, the truth hanging there, raw and unfiltered.
She could walk away now. She will walk away now; I just know it.
But instead, she just exhales, eyes locked on mine, and says, “Okay.”
I search Harper’s face, trying to read between the lines of that ‘okay’. It isn’t surrender, but it isn’t rejection either.
She tucks her arms across her chest, glancing away for a brief moment before meeting my gaze again.
“I need time to think.”
I nod, ignoring the way my stomach twists at her words. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but hearing it still stings.
“You c an take the spare room,” I offer, keeping my voice steady.
Harper studies me like she’s expecting me to argue, but when I don’t, she gives a small nod. “Alright.”
She shifts her weight, like she’s debating whether or not to say something else. Then she adds, “I want access to your laptop.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She tilts her chin up, defiant. “If I’m going to understand all of this then I need to know what I’m dealing with. And I’m not just going to take your word for it.”
I should’ve expected this. Harper doesn’t just trust blindly. She needs proof, something tangible to make sense of the world she’s stepping into.
I exhale through my nose, running a hand through my hair. “Fine. Come with me.”
She follows me down the hall, our footsteps quiet against the hardwood. I lead her into my office. I walk over to my desk, unlocking my laptop with a quick tap of my fingerprint.
“You’ll find what you’re looking for in here,” I tell her, stepping back. “But be careful, Harper. There are some things you can’t unsee.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She sits in my chair, pulling the laptop toward her, eyes sharp and focused.
“I’ll take my chances.”
I watch her for a moment longer before turning away. Fine. Let her see. Let her understand.
Because if she stays after this, then maybe she really is ready for my world.