Chapter 42 #2
“I went to school for criminal justice.”
She lets out a laugh, dry and humorless. “Ironic, huh? I wanted to help the world. Make a difference.”
I study her. This sharp, beautiful woman who’s wounded and armored. She stares at nothing, her eyes glazing over like she’s imagining a different life.
“I could see that. You’d be terrifying in a courtroom,” I say. “Or brilliant behind a camera.”
She blinks, like snapping out of a trance. Then grins. “You think I’m brilliant?”
“I think you’re doing a damn good job hiding the fact that you are.”
She sips her wine and leans her head back again. “You know... I think we could actually be friends.”
I smile. “We already are.”
“Don’t get sappy.”
“No promises.”
The rain keeps falling. Neither of us moves.
For the first time in weeks, the quiet feels less like waiting and more like peace.
We’re just two people pretending a little less than usual.
And honestly? It feels kind of nice.
∞∞∞
Aro—6 Months Ago…
It starts with a stupid bet.
Sean swears he can cook. I swear he can’t.
Now, there’s flour on the counter, a dozen eggs we’re never going to use, and the world’s saddest attempt at handmade ravioli sitting on a cutting board like it’s begging to be put out of its misery.
“You said you could cook,” I say, arms crossed, smirking from where I’m leaning against the marble island.
He doesn’t look up, just keeps trying to pinch the dough closed like it’s a surgical wound he’s determined to mend.
“I said I can. Not that I’m good at it.”
“That’s semantics, chef.”
“You’re a menace.”
“And you’re the one who picked pasta,” I laugh. “You could’ve made toast and won.”
He glances up at me. His smile’s crooked, eyes warm. “You think I was trying to win? I thought we were just having fun.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip.
I look away too fast, pretending to examine a kitchen towel like it holds state secrets.
This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him in months.
No earpiece. No gun. No sharp tension in his shoulders or haunted look in his eyes.
Just Sean—barefoot, sleeves rolled, pretending he’s not the most disciplined man I’ve ever met.
And for a second, I forget who we are. What this life is. Who I’m supposed to be.
“So,” I say lightly, “what’s your deal, anyway?”
“My deal?” he echoes.
“You’re so mysterious and quiet. Always watching. Like Batman, but hotter.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” I raise my wine glass in mock cheers.
He leans back against the counter, finally abandoning the ravioli. “You really want to know my deal?”
I nod. “Lay it on me.”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck.
“I grew up in Baltimore with a single mom and a younger sister. My mom worked double shifts at a hospital, so I got good at making us ramen and staying out of trouble. I joined the Marines right out of high school. Spent too long in the trenches. Got out. Moved onto security work. And now…” He glances around. “I’m with you.”
“That’s the short version,” I say.
“Pretty much.”
I sip my wine. “And the long version?”
He meets my eyes again, and I feel the shift. Like a door unlocking and opening just a crack.
“The real version is… I’ve seen a lot of bad shit. Been a part of some of it. And I promised myself if I ever got the chance to protect someone good… someone who didn’t deserve the mess they were in…”
He pauses.
“…I’d do it right this time.”
The words are soft, but they land like a gut punch. I can’t speak for a second. My throat’s too tight.
“Is that what I am to you?” I finally manage. “Someone good?”
He shrugs, eyes steady. “I think you think you’re not. But yeah, you are.”
Damn him for saying that. And double damn him for meaning it. It slips past all my armor, right into the part of me I’ve stuffed down with Axel, Nik, and Johnny. The part I thought I’d buried for good.
I set the wine down, fingers trembling. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll start to believe you,” I whisper.
Sean steps closer. Not touching, just near enough to feel his heat. My breath hitches.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
I want to hug him. To lean in. To be held. But, I can’t.
Not with Marcus watching everything. Not when I’m still haunted by my past. Not when needing someone feels like a risk I’ll never survive again.
So instead, I force a smile. “If you ever try to make pasta again, I’m revoking your chef privileges.”
He chuckles. “Deal.”
The tension lifts, but something’s changed between us. It hums beneath my skin like static. Like a current I can’t ignore.
And as I watch him move around the kitchen, I realize I care about him. Which is absolutely terrifying, because I can’t afford to care about anyone. But just for tonight, I let myself feel it.
Just enough to know it’s real.
Just enough to remember there’s still something beyond survival.
∞∞∞
Sean—3 Months Ago
Some nights are calm like a held breath.
Tonight’s one of them.
We’re outside on the penthouse balcony. City lights blink like a thousand restless hearts below us. Aro leans over the railing, arms folded, chin tipped toward the stars like she’s daring them to fall.
I’m sitting a few feet back, one boot propped on the low wall, pretending to check messages. But really, I’m watching her. Like always.
She’s quiet. The kind of quiet she gets when her head’s too full. When she’s remembering things she doesn’t say out loud.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I offer.
She glances over her shoulder and gives me a soft, lopsided smile.
“You don’t have enough pennies, Sean.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Try me.”
She turns toward me, still hugging herself, wind teasing loose strands of hair across her face.
“I was thinking about the girl I used to be,” she says carefully. “And how far she is from me now. If she showed up today… I probably wouldn’t even recognize her.”
I nod. I’ve learned not to fill the silences when she gives me one. When Aro opens up, you don’t interrupt. You just listen.
“She wanted a family,” she continues. “A husband. Kids. A cute house with a wrap-around porch and rocking chairs in a neighborhood with a nosy HOA. Back when everything still felt possible, that was her big dream.”
“That sounds like a good dream,” I say quietly.
She shrugs, but there’s a heaviness in it.
“I don’t even remember when I stopped believing I deserved a good life. I just know I did.”
I want to reach for her. Want to pull her close, hold her, and tell her she still does. But Aro is like a wild animal. She’s loyal, sharp, dangerous, and always half-braced to bolt. You don’t make sudden moves. You don’t scare her with softness.
So, I stay where I am.
But then she does something I’ll never forget.
She walks over and sits down next to me. She rests her head against my shoulder. No words. No jokes. No walls.
Just trust.
And that’s what does it. That’s what breaks me.
Because this woman, who’s clawed her way through a world that tried to devour her whole, is choosing me to lean on.
“I saw Marcus hit a girl last week,” she says, voice low. “One of his own. She cried, and he laughed, like it was funny.”
She takes a breath.
“I didn’t laugh. I helped her pack that night. Texted her a window to sneak out of town while he was too busy to notice. Paid for her bus ticket. Covered her tracks.”
I don’t move, because I know what that means in Marcus’s world. That’s not rebellion. That’s a death sentence.
“Does he know?” I ask, already running a dozen worst-case scenarios in my head.
“No.” She pauses. “But he will, eventually. He always finds out.”
I turn to look at her, and that’s when I know.
I’d do anything for her.
Not because it’s my job. Not because she needs me.
Because I love her.
I’m helplessly, completely in love with this woman.
Fuck.
“You’re a good person, Aro,” I whisper.
She doesn’t scoff this time. Doesn’t deflect.
“No, I’m not.” She says it like a fact.
“Yes, you are.”
She doesn’t continue to argue with me. Just closes her eyes, and leans into my warmth a little further.
Right then, I make a promise to myself. Whatever happens—whatever hell we’re pulled into next—I’ll take the hit before she does.
Even if she never knows how much she matters to me. Even if she never feels the same.
She has me.
Forever.