Chapter 17
Aro
Last night was… weird.
Sean finally uncuffed me from Johnny’s bed, and Johnny handed me a t-shirt and sweatpants with a drawstring, like this was just a sleepover and not a hostage situation. Then he gave us a tour of his penthouse, acting like none of this was insane.
I didn’t want to be impressed. But damn, this is impressive.
Beyond the sleek kitchen and massive living room, there’s his office and a hallway leading to four bedrooms. Four bedrooms!
In a penthouse?! Not including the master suite.
One’s a full-blown gym. Another, a personal library.
Two more are guest suites. There are five bathrooms. The whole place is crazy clean, modern, and expensive.
Marcus had money and a penthouse, too, but nothing like this.
After the tour, I disappeared into the guest suite Johnny claimed was mine. I needed time and space to process. I’m not exactly thrilled with either of them right now.
Johnny? I don’t trust him. I can’t. The last time we saw each other, he looked me in the eye and told me I ruined his life. Told me I killed his mother. Whatever kindness he’s showing now, it’s not out of the goodness of his heart. He wants something.
Sean? He flipped my world upside down. Dragged me out of Marcus’s world and dropped me into another kind of prison. One with prettier curtains. We both kept secrets, and now they’re coming back to bite us. I trust him to keep me safe… but trusting him with anything else? That’s harder.
I fell asleep in knots.
Now, it’s ten in the morning, and my stomach’s growling. I’ve been listening for signs of movement, but the place is quiet. Figuring I’m in the clear, I slip out of my room and creep into the kitchen. I hold my breath as I pass Johnny’s office, but it’s empty. I breathe again.
The fridge is… something else. Neatly labeled glass containers, color-coded and stacked like a Pinterest mom’s fever dream. Who even is Johnny now?
I grab some yogurt and fruit. It’s healthy and fresh and so not what I want. If I’m going to be stuck here, we’re going to need to stock up on preservatives and artificial sugar. Survival depends on it.
I take my bowl out to the terrace. The railing is clear, offering a panoramic view of Nashville’s skyline. Below, people hurry to work, oblivious to the chaos that is my life.
“Did you find anything good to eat?” Sean’s voice comes from behind, making me jump.
“Jesus, Sean.” I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “Don’t sneak up on me.”
“Sorry,” he apologizes softly. “Can I sit?”
I nod, and he joins me. He’s in a black T-shirt and sweats. Probably Johnny’s. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him. We sit in silence for a moment. Comfortable, but... off. There’s a distance between us now. One we’ve never had before.
“I’m sorry,” I say. The words feel heavy but necessary. “I’m sorry for lying. For dragging you into all this. For messing up your life.”
He studies me for a second before answering. “None of that is your fault. But thank you. I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you I wasn’t taking you back to Marcus. I should’ve let it be your choice.”
“You were right, though. I didn’t want to go back. I just didn’t see a way out. I’ve been so scared for so long, it turned into routine. I was in survival mode. I stayed because it was familiar, not because I wanted to.”
“I know.” His voice is rougher now. “Come here.”
I expect a hug, but he pulls me into his lap instead. My body melts into his. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, soaking in the quiet strength that has always made me feel safe.
“Aro?” he murmurs, tipping my chin up.
His dark eyes hold mine, unreadable but full. Then he kisses me. It’s slow and hesitant. Careful and testing.
I kiss him back.
It builds fast. His hand slides into my hair, mine to the back of his neck. I shift in his lap, straddling him as our mouths fuse with urgency months in the making. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, deep and searching, and I forget we’re outside. I forget the city, the danger, the history.
His hands grip my hips, dragging me over the hard length of him.
“Sean,” I gasp.
“Mmm,” he growls against my mouth. “Keep saying my name like that and I’ll lay you out on this table.”
Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a threat. I smile into his kiss. He breaks it off, forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“You’re a wicked little thing,” he mutters, playfully.
I bite my lip, grinning despite everything. He knows me too well. I curl back into his chest, resting there for a long moment.
“What are we going to do?” I ask. The world outside still feels like it’s closing in.
“For now? Lay low. Ride out the storm with Marcus. Then we figure out how to get out from under Johnny.”
“One psycho at a time.”
He chuckles softly. “That’s right, Baby.”
∞∞∞
The free weights clink as I set them down.
I’ve watched trashy tv. I’ve raided the fridge looking for junk that isn’t there.
I’ve explored every inch of this place… and found an obscene amount of hidden weapons.
Trust me, I thought about using one on Johnny, but tempting as it is, I can’t do it.
So, I just re-hid them in new spots to hopefully make him think he’s going crazy. Or at least crazier than he already is.
I pick the weights back up and start my next set. Sweat runs down the back of my neck, soaking into my borrowed t-shirt. I’m definitely going to have to figure out a clothing situation. As much as I’m sure Johnny would love to keep me in his clothes, that’s not going to work for me.
I spend the next thirty minutes running through a familiar strength routine. The exercise feels good and helps calm my racing mind. So much has happened in such a short amount of time. I can barely keep up.
Halfway through my last exercise, I look up in the mirror to find Johnny’s reflection staring back at me.
He’s leaned against the gym doorway, looking fine as hell in a perfectly fitted suit.
The top buttons are undone at his collar, and the way those pants hug his thighs should be illegal. I swallow and finish my set.
“Can I help you?” I ask, setting down the dumbbells and looking over my shoulder.
He smirks and it’s infuriating.
“You can help me with many things...”
I roll my eyes.
“But right now, I want to talk.”
I warily gesture to the empty weight bench beside me.
He comes and takes a seat. He stares ahead, seemingly gathering his thoughts, so I take the opportunity to study him.
He’s so different, and yet, still the same.
His once buzzed hair is now longer and styled.
His nose ring is gone. His features are still sharp, but somehow feel more dangerous. He’s grown up. But haven’t we all?
Finally, he turns to me.
“You remember the last thing we said to each other?”
I narrow my eyes, before quickly fixing my mask back in place. So, we’re doing this right now…
“How could I forget?” I deadpan. “You accused me of killing your mother and then told my dad that I had sex with Axel and was in a relationship with both him and Nik. Oh, and you called me a whore.”
Yep. That about sums it up.
He cringes. “Yes, well, I wanted to apologize.”
I stare him down. “I don’t believe you.”
“What?” He looks at me funny.
“I said, I don’t believe you. I don’t think this is an apology at all. In fact, I don’t think you care about the pain you caused me.”
His jaw clenches. “My mother had just died. Everyone I loved had been put in danger—”
“You don’t get to use the past to play the victim,” I snap. “Not when you made damn sure I was the one left bleeding.”
He falters. Finally.
“I’m not trying to manipulate you—”
“Bullshit,” I bite out. “You want to talk about our last conversation? You didn’t just hurt me, Johnny. You broke me. And now you want to waltz in here, play the regret card, and act like that somehow wipes the slate clean?”
He exhales, like he’s holding back a storm. “I’m trying to fix it.”
“No,” I say, leaning toward him. “You’re trying to rewrite it. But I haven’t forgotten who you really are.”
I reach under the bench without breaking eye contact. My fingers close around cool metal. One of his knives. I flick it open, slow and deliberate, and in one fluid motion, press it to his throat. He freezes.
“You think I forgot what you’re capable of?” I whisper. “I didn’t. But you don’t know what I’m capable of now.”
His pulse thrums against the blade, but he doesn’t move. He just watches me. No fear. No smirk. Just stillness. And maybe, for the first time since I got here, a flicker of something real behind his eyes.
Regret.
Not because he’s afraid I’ll cut him, but because he finally gets it. He finally realizes he lost something that might not be recoverable.
“I should kill you,” I murmur.
“But you won’t,” he replies, voice sure.
“No,” I say, standing. “Because I’m not you.”
I flick the blade closed and toss it to the bench. I walk past him, heart pounding, throat tight. I don’t stop until I’m back in the guest suite, slamming the bathroom door behind me.
The shower scalds my skin, but I don’t care. I slide down the tiled wall and press my fists to my eyes. The tears come before I can stop them. This is too much. He’s too much.
∞∞∞
Johnny
I stare at my knife on the bench, wondering when things went so wrong.
It’s not the blade that shakes me. It’s her. The fire in her eyes. The certainty in her hand when she held it to my throat. The part of her that used to gravitate toward me is gone. She doesn’t love me anymore. She hates me. Really, truly, hates me. And the worst part? She’s right to.
I’d like to say I came in here to make things right. That the apology was sincere. That I wanted forgiveness. But that would be a lie, and she saw right through it anyway.
I didn’t come to apologize. I came to reassert control.
Unfortunately for me, she’s not the girl I left bleeding in the wreckage of our past. She’s sharper now. Steel-coated. And when she looked me in the eye and told me I didn’t mean a word of it, I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Exposed.
I thought I had the upper hand. That part of her still wanted me enough to blind her. I was wrong. The moment she pulled that knife—my knife—and pressed it to my throat without hesitation, I knew just how badly I’d fucked this up. That wasn’t a bluff or anger. That was a warning. One I earned.
I scrub a hand down my face. The mask won’t hold much longer if I keep pushing like this, and I can’t afford to slip. Not now. Not with Walter watching. Not with Joe still out there. Not with her slipping further away from me with every second I pretend nothing’s changed.
I leave the gym on auto-pilot, following her steps without meaning to. Not to corner her. Not to shout her down. I just need to understand how far I’ve lost her. How deep the damage goes.
I hear the bathroom door slam. The lock clicks. A moment later, the water starts. Then, I hear a stifled sob. Followed by another. It slices through the air sharper than any blade I own.
I start to lift my hand toward the knob, then stop mid-motion.
What the fuck would I even say? Sorry I broke you? Sorry I let my quest for vengeance eat my humanity? Sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me?
None of it means a damn thing now. Pretty words won’t fix this. They’ll only dig the knife deeper.
I used to think pain justified everything. That grief gave me license. But hers? Her pain doesn’t erase mine. It swallows it.
I sink to the floor, back to the door, and just listen.
To her breathing.
To her crying.
To the sound of everything I destroyed, echoing through tile and steam.
I’ve broken things before. People, too. But this? This is the first time I’ve wanted to put something back together.
She’ll never believe me, and maybe she shouldn’t. If I want her to have faith in me again, I’ll have to show her. Every single day. Every single moment. No mask. No threats. No games.
For the first time in years, I don’t know how to fix something, but I know I have to try. If I don’t, I’ll lose her.
And next time, I won’t deserve to get her back.