Chapter 2 #3
The driver took me through heavy traffic to a polished apartment building.
A man opened the door, and my attention snagged immediately.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair falling into his eyes like he didn’t bother taming it.
A brutal scar split through one side of his face, scraping pale through his thick brow, down his eyelid and cheek, before it ended at his chin.
Then I saw his eyes and froze. One dark.
One light. The same wrongness I carried every time I caught my reflection.
He grimaced when he noticed me staring. “What do you want?”
“You’re Matthias?”
Faint recognition crossed his features. “Right. The pyro.” He turned on his heel, leaving the door slightly ajar. “This way.”
I glared at his back as I stepped inside, my hackles rising at the sight of a familiar gas mask settled on the entryway table.
I let the door fall shut behind me. He didn’t bother with any further introduction, and I picked up my pace, taking in the space.
He led me down a black and white checkered hallway, art and beautiful sculptures littered throughout.
We took a set of red-carpeted stairs, and I looked out past a sparkling chandelier.
Though it had looked like an apartment complex from the outside, all the walls and rooms must’ve been taken down to make an open downstairs.
Smart on Alexander’s part. Anyone looking at that place would’ve thought students lived there, not billionaires.
Upstairs, the same wealth continued, and my stomach clenched. Wealth never meant freedom or safety to Creed, and I knew that Rafe was alone there, somewhere, confused and angry. Matthias confirmed as much as we neared a pair of french doors reinforced with steel and locks.
“It’s not usually for us,” he said, seeing my wary expression. “It’s where we keep our extra cache of money and weapons, but it was the safest place to keep your friend until he calmed down. Alexander told me to take him to the basement, but I thought that would just make it worse.”
He went to unlock the door, but his words tightened around me.
Did he say weapons? “Wait. Don’t—” I started but the door swung open and the rest of the sentence died in my throat, shock hitting me so hard it felt like vertigo.
Instead of the familiar violence I’d braced myself for, there was…
light. Fairy lights strung in careful arcs across a wide terrace that overlooked the city, candles flickering along a small table set for two, and there, standing at the center of it all was Rafe, dressed in a dark suit, hair neatly combed back, flowers held awkwardly in his hands.
Matthias left us without a word, the doors clicking shut faintly behind me.
I was stock still, unable to process what was happening, and Rafe didn’t quite seem like he could either.
He stood there with the flowers clenched in his hands, his eyes fixed on me unblinking as if he thought doing so would mean I’d vanish again.
The city glowed behind him, the fairy lights casting soft halos across his face, and for a long, suspended moment neither of us moved.
Then he broke.
The flowers slipped from his hands and hit the ground between us, petals scattering softly as he crossed the space in quick, decisive strides, stopping just close enough that I could feel the heat of him without the press of his body, his hands lifting and hovering for a fractured second.
His eyes searched my face with a raw, almost frightened intensity before he finally touched me, careful and grounding, his palms settling at my waist as if anchoring himself there.
Then his hands closed around me hard, almost painfully, pulling me against him with a force that stole my breath. His forehead pressed into my shoulder.
I wrapped my arms around him and held on.
I felt his heart hammering against my chest, felt the way he clutched at the back of my jacket.
I breathed him in, and for the first time in weeks, love flooded through me so hard my knees threatened to buckle.
I pressed my face into his shoulder with a sob.
I could feel both of us shaking. Small, uncontrollable tremors that come when your body is trying to keep something from breaking apart.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands still locked around me, his eyes frantic, searching, like he was checking for wounds.
When he saw none, he tucked me close again, pressing a trembling kiss to my forehead.
I sagged forward, like the moment his mouth touched my skin something inside me finally gave away.
My knees softened, my weight settling into him, and he adjusted instantly, arms tightening around me, holding me up like he always had.
My heart was loud between us, frantic and unsteady, and I could feel his matching it.
Then his mouth moved. Just barely. A slow drag from my forehead to my dented temple.
My breath caught, my pulse skidding hard, my hands curling into his jacket.
He kept descending, wrecking me, kissing down toward the corner of my eye where tears clung, then my cheek, each press of his mouth gentle, stitching me back together.
I lifted onto my toes just to stay close, just to keep him there.
My hand came up on its own, cupping the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, the strands having grown out a bit.
He shuddered at the touch, and I pulled him down.
We crashed into each other, his mouth taking mine in equal desperation.
I kissed him fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
My eyes squeezed shut, my heart stuttering as his mouth deepened the kiss, his body driving me back against the cold steel of the patio’s reinforced doors.
He made a sound against my mouth, something broken and relieved and aching all at once, before he drew back.
He let me go with reluctance, lifting his hands and his eyes red-rimmed. I am so sorry, he said.
I shook my head, confused. Sorry?
I never should’ve let you go into the rest area alone.
No. I shook my head harder and cupped his face, running my thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes fluttered close for a second, a hard exhale leaving him at my touch. Then he met my gaze again, still filled with guilt. I’m okay, see? I managed a wobbling smile.
He lifted a hand. And now so am I, he signed before bringing me close again, his forehead tucking against mine. His throat worked. They gave us a few hours.
I nodded against him. Then I blushed, pulling back enough to peek over his shoulder again. Did you do all this?
Heat crawled up his neck. You hate it.
What? No! I bit my lip and glanced at the flowers scattered everywhere.
Those have seen better days, though. I laughed when he glared down at the daisies crumpled under his boot from crossing to me.
His head jerked up at the feel of my laughter against him, his lips curving into my favorite thing in the world.
Rafe Creed smiling was truly a sight to behold.
My stomach fluttered, and he slipped his hand in mine, guiding me to my chair and scooting it out for me.
I sat, and he scooted me back in, my eyes taking in the meal.
It was simple, as all my meals with the Ravens had been.
A soup and a salad. Nothing fancy but perfect when I was sitting across from the man I loved.
He settled across from me, still grinning. I was too. I couldn’t help it.
I’ve never been on a date before, I told him.
His cheeks were red too. Me either. Sorry if I fuck it up.
I studied him then. He looked amazing, better than I’d ever seen him.
He was healthy, his skin slightly tanned like he’d been spending a lot of time in the LA sun, and I swore the gold specks in his dark eyes seemed brighter.
He was cataloging me too, and as we did, our smiles slid further and further away.
In that moment, we were both recognizing something vital and heart-stopping.
We were healing. It wasn’t by much. We’d likely spend our entire lives trying to find normal, but just the fact that we’d both offered smiles so freely was a testament to the Ravens.
Somehow, without any of Creed really meaning to, we’d started to fit again into the roles we’d been handed by Alexander, and the strange thing was…
they were good roles. Healing roles. I don’t think either us knew how to feel about that, not then.
They told me you’d barely been working with the Ravens, only picking fights, I said after a long moment, neither of us really touching our food.
Rafe ran a hand over his mouth with a small nod of acknowledgment. At first. I thought they were hurting you and the others. Then Matthias showed me proof of life shortly after he took me to a S.I.N. auction.
I nodded. Yeah. They did the same for me. It was hard not to listen to what the Ravens had to say after that.
He was quiet for another long moment. Then he gestured to where two duffel bags sat next to the table. If you want to leave, everything we need is ready. His signing jerked to a stop. He released a breath. Then he continued, But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this—
We have to stay, I finished.
Our gazes met and held, understanding passing between us, but my heart was breaking with the truth.
It wasn’t surrender or doubt that lived in that space between us.
It was recognition. The awful, lucid knowing that love didn’t give me the right to turn away when the world was still burning.
That choosing Creed right then wouldn’t be choosing us at all, not really, because Creed had never been about running.
Creed was about standing in the fire so others didn’t have to, and Rafe understood that in the marrow of him, the same way I did.
He always had. Staying didn’t mean we were choosing the Ravens over each other.
It meant we were choosing the version of ourselves that had survived everything by refusing to look away.
It meant acknowledging that there were still children locked in rooms like the ones that made us, that there were lives dangling on the edge of someone else’s greed, and that if we walked away now, we’d never outrun the ghosts of it.
I wanted him. God, I wanted him. I wanted the quiet, the softness, the lie of safety we could build for a little while.
But I could already see the end of that road, the shame that would grow from knowing we’d left others behind.
Rafe could have happiness, real happiness, the kind that wasn’t poisoned by guilt, if he stayed and helped tear the whole thing down.
And so could I. Even if it meant standing apart for a time.
Even if it meant choosing the harder thing again.
I hated myself for being strong enough to know the difference, and I loved him for understanding without a single word.
Just a few hours? I signed, looking down at my lap, my eyes burning.
He lifted from his chair and came to me, kneeling beside my chair and staring up at me, his gaze so imploring that I couldn’t help the tears that finally fell.
Baby, it’s going to be okay. I don’t want to be separated either, but the Ravens are right.
I promise the second Halden and Viktor are in a grave, you’ll never remove me from your side, but I have to stay away now, for your safety.
I know, I cried.
He shoved back my chair and tugged me forward, letting me collapse into him. He ran his hand over my hair, hugging me to him before he pushed my head back with a frown. What’s going on? You don’t ever cry like this. Don’t lie to me, Arden. Are they hurting you?
I covered my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.
I just—I sobbed, and his grip tightened on me.
Rafe, I said slowly, pushing through my tears.
It’s all catching up, okay? I can’t cage it in anymore.
Everything I’ve suppressed, now that I’m faced with freedom for the first time, it’s coming back, and it’s cruel, and I can’t…
I can’t do this. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
Not strong enough? His eyes darkened, all his concern trading for determination. You are Creed. He said it firmly, his fingers snapping. More importantly, you’re Arden.
I sniffed, furiously trying to wipe my tears away.
My wife. My heart. He tucked my curls behind my ears. But above all else, you are my strength, beautiful. You are so impossibly strong that you’ve revived me from monster to man. I never want to hear you underestimating yourself ever again, do you understand?
I choked down a sob. I love you.
His eyes softened. I love you too. So much.