Chapter 13
DANE
I fucked up. Royally. The look in Lila's eyes—fear mixed with disappointment—hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. I've seen that look before, in the faces of women who delt with my father. It doesn't belong on her.
Knowing what happened to her in high school…
I told myself to go slow, not to scare her.
Not all women like it rough. Some prefer gentle, slow—the kind of lovemaking I've always found boring.
But Lila? She deserves that. I promised myself I'd ease her into things if she gave me a chance. Take it slow, teach her to trusts me.
Damn it.
"Lila, I—" The words catch in my throat. What can I possibly say to fix this? 'Sorry I manhandled you like some amateur meathead who can't control himself'? Yeah, that'll go over well.
She's still standing there, hand on her throat. The green silk of her dress catches the dim light, making her look ethereal and untouchable. Christ, I want to touch her. Even now, after I've gone and scared her half to death, the pull is there. Insistent. Undeniable.
It's fucked up. I'm fucked up.
"Look," I start again, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I know I crossed a line. I let myself get carried away, and that's on me. But this thing between us—" I gesture vaguely, searching for words that won't sound like complete bullshit. "It's not something I can just walk away from."
Her eyebrow quirks up, skepticism written all over her face. "So what, you're saying you can't help yourself?" The sarcasm in her voice could cut glass. "Because that's not exactly reassuring, Dane."
"No, that's not—" I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. "I'm saying I don't want to help myself. Not from you."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I watch her process them, see the conflict play out across her face. She's intrigued, despite herself. Good. I can work with that.
"I've spent my whole life keeping people at arm's length," I continue, taking a careful step closer. She doesn't back away. Another good sign. "It's safer that way. Easier. But you—" I shake my head, a humorless laugh escaping. "You make me want to burn all that shit to the ground."
Lila's eyes widen slightly, her breath catching. I've got her attention now.
"I know I fucked up tonight," I say, voice low and intense. "But I'm asking for a chance to make it right. To show you that I'm a man you can trust, not some animal who can't control himself."
She's quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching mine like she's trying to read the truth written there. I force myself to stay still, to let her see whatever it is she needs to see.
"And if I say no?" she finally asks, voice barely above a whisper. "If I tell you to leave and never come back?"
The thought sends a spike of panic through me. The idea of walking away from her, of never seeing those green eyes or hearing that laugh again—it's like contemplating cutting off a limb.
"Then I'll go," I say, the words tasting like ash. "I'll respect your decision. But Lila—" I take another step closer, close enough now that I can smell her perfume. "I don't think you want that any more than I do."
Her breath hitches, pupils dilating slightly. Yeah, she feels it too. This crackling intensity between us, like a live wire just waiting to spark.
"You're dangerous," she murmurs, but she doesn't move away.
I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."
The air between us is electric, charged with possibility. I've laid my cards on the table. Now it's her move.
I watch the war play out on her face—desire fighting reason, instinct battling memory.
I recognize that battle because it's the same one I've been waging since I first saw her.
The rational part of my brain knows I should walk out that door and never look back.
But there's this other part—the part that's been starving for something real—that can't make my feet move toward the exit.
She's like a feral cat ready to bolt. One wrong move and she'll disappear, retreating back into whatever safe little world she's built for herself. And fuck if I don't want to see that world, to be part of it.
I take a slow step toward her. Then another. Moving like I'm approaching a bomb that might detonate with the wrong breath.
"Stay right where you are," she says, but her voice wavers. Her body betrays her—pupils dilated, pulse visibly hammering at her throat.
"Trust me." The words come out rougher than I intended.
Another step. Her back hits the wall. Nowhere to retreat now.
"What are you doing?" she asks in a whisper.
I stop just inches from her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. Close enough to see the fine tremor in her hands. But I don't touch her—not yet. Instead, I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers. It's the most vulnerable position I've been in a very long time.
"Something I never do," I murmur.
Our breath mingles. I close my eyes, unable to bear the weight of her gaze.
"Give me another chance, Lila." The words taste strange on my tongue. Sour. Foreign. When have I ever asked for a second chance at anything? "Please."
Christ, I'm begging. Dane fucking Wolfe, reduced to pleading. If my old unit could see me now, they'd laugh their asses off. The man who'd rather bleed out than call for backup, now asking—no, begging—a woman half his size not to walk away.
The universe has a sick sense of humor.
"Why should I?" Her voice is steady now, stronger.
"Because I know what it's like to build walls." My voice drops lower. "To keep everyone at a distance because it feels safer that way. To think you're protecting yourself when really you're just slowly suffocating."
Her breath catches.
"The thing is," I continue, "walls work both ways. They keep people out, sure. But they also keep you locked in."
I pull back just enough to look at her, to really see her. Her eyes gleam—a little scared, a little defiant. Beautiful.
"You're the first person in a long time who makes me want to tear down my walls. And that scares the shit out of me."
A flicker of surprise crosses her face. Maybe she didn't expect honesty. Most people don't, not from men like me.
"I can't promise I won't fuck up again," I say, the corner of my mouth lifting in a humorless smirk. "I'm good at fucking up. Professional grade. But I can promise I'll try. And I don't try for just anyone, Lila."
The moment stretches between us, taut as a tripwire. This is it—the invisible line between retreating to our separate corners or stepping into something neither of us fully understands. Something that could destroy us both.
But destruction's never scared me. Maybe that's my problem.
Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: Lila Marks has gotten under my skin in a way no one else ever has. And I'll be damned if I let her slip away without a fight.
I pull back abruptly, using every ounce of military discipline not to reach for her again. Strategic retreat—that's what this is. Not running away.
"You don't have to answer now," I say, my voice rough around the edges. "I'll go."
The look on her face is unreadable—part relief, part disappointment. Fuck if that doesn't twist something inside me. But I've pushed enough tonight. Sometimes winning means knowing when to back off.
"Dane, I?—"
"It's okay." I cut her off before she can say something we'll both regret. "Get some sleep, Lila."
Walking out her door is like moving through quicksand.
Every step away from her pulls at something primal in me, something that wants to turn around, pin her against that wall, and show her exactly what she does to me.
But that's the animal talking. And I've spent too many years keeping that part of me caged to let it loose now. Not with her. Not unless she lets me.
The night air hits me like a slap as I exit her building. I inhale deeply, trying to clear my head of her scent, her taste. It doesn't work. She's under my skin so deep now, an itch I can't scratch.
I get in my car and circle the block, parking behind the abandoned building across from her place. My surveillance gear is still set up inside, waiting like a loyal dog for its master's return.
Fucking pathetic. I know it even as I release the lock, silent as a shadow. I know it as I settle into my makeshift observation post, adjusting the directional mic toward her window. I know it as her voice fills my headphones, cracked and emotional as she calls someone—Tessa, probably.
"...almost lost it when he touched me like that..." Her voice wavers. "But then he stopped. Just...stopped."
She sounds surprised. Like no man has ever respected her boundaries before. The thought makes my hands curl into fists.
This is wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong—worse than what I did in her apartment. I'm violating so much more: her trust, her privacy. Everything I claimed to respect minutes ago.
Yet here I sit, a ghost in the darkness, watching her life unfold through crosshairs like the sniper I once was. The irony isn't lost on me.
Maybe an animal is all I've ever been. Maybe the badge and the honorable discharge were just costumes I wore to hide the monster underneath. But monsters don't feel this hollow ache in their chest. They don't hate themselves for what they're doing.
Do they?
"... that's the thing. He stopped..." Lila's voice cuts out again, lost to the ambient noise of the city. I adjust the mic, cursing under my breath. Getting half a conversation is worse than getting none.
"Fuck." I twist the dial, trying to boost the gain without introducing too much static. "Come on, sweetheart, speak up."
Another fragment reaches me: "...like Mr. Colton..." Then silence.
I pound my fist against the concrete floor. Marcus Fucking Colton. The name sends rage coursing through me like battery acid. That piece of shit teacher who got away with everything. And now she's comparing me to him?
Or saying I'm different? I can't fucking tell.
The universe has a sick sense of humor, letting me hear just enough to drive myself insane with speculation. Half-truths are more dangerous than lies—they give you just enough rope to hang yourself with assumptions.
I sit back, rubbing my eyes. This isn't working. Half-assed surveillance never does. If I want to understand Lila—to protect her—I need to be smarter. More thorough.
Tomorrow, I'll plant proper bugs in her apartment. No more amateur hour bullshit with this directional mic.
The thought should bother me. It doesn't.
That's probably the most disturbing thing of all.
LILA
Even after taking some time to calm down, my hands tremble as I dial Tessa's number, pacing around my tiny apartment. The ghost of Dane's touch still burning against my skin.
"Pick up, pick up," I mutter, heart hammering. Three rings feel like three hours.
"Hey girl, how was?—"
"Tessa," I gasp, my voice breaking. "I need you."
"What happened? Are you okay? Did he?—"
"No! Yes! I don't know." Tears prick at my eyes. The apartment suddenly feels too empty yet somehow suffocating. "He was here, and then—God, I can't even think straight."
"Breathe, Lila." Tessa's voice shifts to that calm, take-charge tone she uses for emergencies. Last time I heard it was when I found a mouse in my kitchen and had a complete meltdown.
I sink onto my couch, exhaling shakily. "He came up. We were kissing in the car, and I invited him up because—fuck, Tess, I wanted him so bad."
"Okay, that's?—"
"It was like something from a movie, all desperate and hot and then… he pushed me against the wall," I continue, the words tumbling out. "He got rough. Push me against the wall and put an hand around my throat, and I just—I wasn't in my apartment anymore. I was back there . With him ."
"Oh, Lila." Her voice softens. "What did Dane do when you freaked?"
"That's the thing." I stare at my front door, still half-expecting a knock. "He stopped. Immediately. Backed all the way up like I'd burned him." The memory flickers: Dane's face transforming from heat to horror in an instant. "He apologized. Like, really apologized."
"That's... good, right?"
"Is it?" I stand again, unable to stay still. "Or is it just the first step in the manipulation playbook? Like Mr. Colton."
"Oh, Lila." Tessa's voice turns stern. "He's not Mr. Colton. You need to stop comparing them. For starters, you're not a sixteen-year-old student. You're an adult woman who invited him to your place."
"I know that." I rub at my eyes, smearing whatever makeup survived dinner. "Logically, I know that."
"And he stopped. Without you having to fight or scream or?—"
"I know!" I snap, then immediately regret it. "Sorry. It's just—what if this is the beginning of the same pattern? What if I'm just falling for another asshole with a different face?"
A pause hangs between us. I can practically hear Tessa choosing her words carefully.
"Look, I'm not saying marry the guy. But maybe this is a sign he's actually decent? Most guys would've gotten defensive or made you feel crazy. Besides some guys like it rough, and trust me… it can't be really good."
I sink onto my kitchen counter, suddenly exhausted. "He said I make him want to tear down his walls. That he can't walk away from whatever this is."
"Wow. That's... intense."
"Yeah." I twist a strand of hair around my finger nervously. "And the thing is... part of me still wants him. Even after I freaked out. How fucked up is that?"
"It's not fucked up to want someone who respects your boundaries," Tessa says gently. "Your trauma doesn't have to define every relationship you have."
Easy for her to say. Trauma isn't something you just shrug off like last season's coat.
"He. Is. Not. Mr. Colton," she says.
"Yes, he is not Mr. Colton," I whisper, testing how the words feel in my mouth. "But he scares me."
"Could it be because you really like him. A lot."
I let out a long sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Damn it, Tess. You're right. I do like him. That's exactly why he scares me."
"Finally, she admits it!" Tessa's laugh crackles through the phone. "So what now?"
"Well," I pause, chewing my lip. "He asked for a second chance."
"And?" I can practically hear Tessa leaning forward, all eager gossip mode engaged.
"And... I'm thinking about it." I trace the rim of my empty beer bottle, picturing Dane's intense gray eyes. "God, I must be out of my mind."
"Or maybe you're finally letting yourself live a little," Tessa counters. "So, are you gonna do it?"
I close my eyes, weighing the fear against the electric pull I feel towards Dane. "Yeah," I say finally, surprising myself. "I think I will."
"That's my girl!" Tessa cheers. "Just promise me you'll take it slow. And if he tries anything shady, I'll personally kick his ass."
I snort. "You and what army, pipsqueak?"
"Hey, I may be small, but I'm scrappy," Tessa protests. "Plus, these Louboutins make excellent weapons."