19. Impulsive
Chapter nineteen
Impulsive
(Kiah)
A drenaline surges through me as I survey the carnage.
Incapacitated attackers lie scattered among the wreckage of my once-peaceful sanctuary. Around them, broken furniture and shattered art bear witness to the violence that just unfolded.
Yet, I don't feel anger or loss.
I feel...alive.
Powerful.
Like my old myself.
And the rush is intoxicating!
I had almost forgotten how natural combat felt, how exhilarating it was to push my body to its limits, to wield it as a finely-tuned weapon.
My limbs had moved with a fluid grace that surprised even me, muscle memory kicking in as if no time had passed.
For the first time in ages, my muscles had sung with purpose beyond mere exercise. That visceral dance of survival—it was what they'd been yearning for all along.
But that wasn’t the only reason my heart rate shot through the roof.
Fighting alongside Nico was...unexpected, incredible.
He held his own—I’m quite proud.
Who knew we'd make such a formidable team?
For once, everything is going according to plan…
Well, almost everything.
I stare at Nico, my brain short-circuiting. "What do you mean you're not going without me?"
This wasn't part of the plan.
Get the guys, get the plane, get Nico home. Return to my solitary existence. The end.
That's what my brain has locked onto, eyes on the mission. But Nico...
He takes my hands in his in an uncharacteristically tender move.
"Exactly that," he says, his voice low and earnest. His eyes, stormy as ever, hold a softness that wasn’t there before, "Come with me, Kiah."
The simple request shatters my carefully constructed world, leaving me uncertain.
“Nico…I can’t. The guests will be here next week. I have a whole life here. Responsibilities. I can’t just pack up and go. I—” There are a million reasons why not.
“Then, I’ll stay.”
I shake my head. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t stay. They’ll come for you, one way or another. You need to take your rightful place on the throne. Wrong the rights. Get justice.”
“Then come with me,” he insists, returning to his original request.
“I can’t just go .”
Panic pushes up in my throat as the introduction of a choice throws my perfectly planned future into chaos.
“You said it yourself, you miss the excitement, the city. You can’t hide out here forever.”
I lower my gaze. “You’re using my words against me.”
“Were they true?”
Nico tilts my chin toward him, forcing my eyes back to his. “Were they true?” he repeats, and I nod slowly. For all his faults, I know Nico values the truth above all else.
“Yes. But I can’t just leave…”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s absolutely crazy? How do you think this next part is going to go? Anything could happen…”
As many times as I try to run every imaginable scenario through my head, I can’t cover all the possibilities—there are too many variables.
My heart screams yes, my body does too, but my rational mind knows it’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard.
How can I just leave everything I’ve built and run after some young brat with a death wish? At the same time, how can I let him leave? After everything we’ve been through…
“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” Nico admits, “But I know that I will protect you with my life, come what may. That has to count for something?”
I want to roll my eyes at the cliche, but I’ve literally just watched him do that exact thing, nearly killing his own brother with his bare hands for threatening me. Nobody has ever cared that much. In this whole miserable existence of mine, nobody has ever wanted to protect me.
But is it enough?
What if his Stockholm Syndrome wears off as soon as we enter civilization again? What if he gets bored?
“You have a whole world waiting for you back home, Nico. You’re either ending up in the ground, in prison, or on a throne—where does that leave me?”
“On the throne, right beside me, as my Queen,” he says without missing a beat, smiling like a fool.
“I’m no Queen, Nico. I’m an unwanted child turned assassin nearly twice your age.” I sigh, shaking my shirt to try and force a breeze onto my sweaty skin.
“Despite your terrible math, you’re perfect. You know you’re only 16 years older than me, right?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’ve literally nearly stabbed you to death, held you hostage for weeks, caged your cock against your will, put a bomb collar around your neck…and you think I’m perfect ?”
Nico nods, that stupid grin not going anywhere. “Yup. Perfect…for me.”
“But why?”
Nico takes a deep breath, figuring out the words in his head first before finally laying his soul bare, “Because you see me, Kiah, the real me, and you still care. You could’ve just let me die, but you nursed me back to health when I didn’t deserve it. You trained me and punished me and calmed the chaos in my mind in a way that made the world feel okay for the first time in a very, very long time. Through it all, you somehow manage to channel all my fucked-up energy into something useful—all while looking like a fucking Goddess. A bad-ass Goddess who fights like the Devil.” He takes a step closer, the space between us disappearing, “I don’t want you by my side, Kiah, I need you by my side. I meant what I said—I can’t do this without you.”
I stare at him in silence, letting the words sink in.
Surely, confessions like these are meant for other people only, not for me?
I’m hardly the girl next door—quite the opposite. I usually get death threats, not declarations of affection.
Yet, despite my instinctive skepticism, I know he’s being sincere.
Nico’s eyes do not lie, and right now, his entire expression is that of a star-crossed lover serenading his sweetheart.
That look of utter devotion on his face is my entire undoing. It's a primal need, etched onto his forehead like a permanent marker—undeniable, raw. Nobody has ever looked at me like that, like I’m their entire world.
That look is the only thing I trust in this fucked up world.
It’s stirred a part of me that’s been dormant too long, a part of me I’ve been too stubborn to admit I miss.
“Oh, Nico,” I finally say, unable to find the words to adequately respond to a confession so grand.
But I don’t need words to know how much his declaration has affected me, how badly I want Nico to be mine.
If he leaves, I know I’ll lose this version of me—who I am when I’m with him—forever.
“Come with me and rule by my side, Kiah. We’ll be unstoppable.” He takes my hands and brings them to his lips, pressing them to his warm skin in a soft kiss.
He’s certain enough for both of us, and it’s hard to doubt.
“You drive a hard bargain, kid.” I smile.
“It’s because I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“What about all my stuff, the inn?” I feel my resolve slowly melt under Nico’s imploring gaze.
“My family has more money than anyone knows what to do with. Sorting out those things will simply be a matter of logistics. We can ship whatever you want over. I’m sure we can find someone to run the inn if you want to keep it, or sell it, if you don’t.”
“It will be cold in the city,” I say, quickly running out of rational answers.
Nico smiles, like actually smiles, not just that sneer of his. “Don’t you miss the cold? It’s weird having it be this sweaty over Christmas.”
“Nico…I’m broken.” My final excuse…the sharpest arrow in my chest, the one that’s really holding me back.
“So am I. But you didn’t mind, why should I mind?”
I look around nervously. “We’re running out of time; you have to go.”
“I know,” Nico's voice is urgent, almost pleading, “So can you stop making dumb excuses and come with me already? If you hate it, you can come back to the island, I promise. But don’t make me go alone now, please, Kiah.”
His vulnerability, so raw and unexpected, pierces through my defenses.
I know that I’m about to do something incredibly stupid.
"Fine," I concede, my voice barely above a whisper. "But only because I don't want you to die."
“I’ll take it,” Nico declares victoriously, pulling me in for a kiss that doesn’t end until I forget how to breathe, panting in his strong arms, my knees weak like I’m a teenager with a crush.
As we part, breathless, I murmur against his chest, "This is a terrible idea."
"Oh yes," Nico agrees, lips brushing my hair. "The absolute worst."
Our laughter, tinged with exhilaration and a hint of fear, fills the room.
“Give me a second,” I say, darting to grab my emergency bag—always packed, always ready. Old habits die hard.
I navigate the carnage in my kitchen as if it's an everyday occurrence, shoving a jacket, phone charger, and Kindle into the bag.
At the door, I pause for a final look at the space that's been my sanctuary for five years. The finality of the moment isn't lost on me. But I don’t feel sad about it. I’m excited.
Nico is already waiting outside, his bloodied and barely conscious brother draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"After you, my Queen."
I smile, taking his hand. “I could get used to that.”
As I lead the way to the airstrip, I don’t spare a single look back at the life I thought I wanted but was, in actual fact, just an excuse to hide.
Fuck it . I’m too young to retire.
Besides, as Nico said, I could just come back if I wanted to.
I don’t want another lifetime of what-ifs and regrets.
What I want is a home, a real home.
And it’s not here.
Nico’s woken up a slumbering part of me, a part I can't lull back to sleep again. It wants excitement, risk, danger. It craves the high stakes, the smell of expensive cars, the sheer opulence of hedonism.
What is there to stay for anyway?
This island may be peaceful, but it's been suffocating my growth. Trapped in amber, I've been stuck, in between worlds, not daring to breathe. Nico's given me a reason to exhale again.
As we mission over the sandy paths, I realize I'm not running away. For the first time in years, I'm running towards something.
And I’m ready.