50. My Ring.
The security system is least of my concern. I mean sure, we have a strong security system which wouldn't let anyone in without any approval from Mama or Papa.
Then how the hell is here?
"You can't be here" I whisper, but it doesn't sound convincing because a part of me is so relieved I could collapse.
He stands slowly.
And God.
The room shrinks.
He's in a clean white shirt, the sleeves rolled. His hair is slightly disheveled, like he ran his hand through it one too many times. There's tension in his shoulders, barely contained.
And there are cuts on his knuckles, and on his face too.
My hands itch to clean them, and kiss them until he's safe, but I cant do that. He's not mine anymore. He's probably here to kill me-
He looks at me like I'm something he's been searching for.
"I crossed an ocean," he says quietly. "You think a gate was going to stop me?"
My breath stutters.
He steps closer and he smells the same. I missed that scent so much, I miss his arms- I miss everything about him
I stay rooted to the floor, even though instinct tells me to run. Or to close the distance myself.
"Did you mean it?" he asks suddenly. "When you said I wasn't made for love."
The question hits harder than I expected.
There's no anger in his voice.
I swallow.
This is the moment I was terrified of because I can lie to my parents.
I can lie to the world.
But under that stare? I've never been able to lie to him. Cause he knows me so well.
"I knew you stole 3 of my hoodies, Swan." His voice is quiet. Certain.
He steps closer, and the air shifts with him. My back stiffens instinctively, but I don't move away. His gaze drifts downward, slow and deliberate, until it lands at my collarbone.
The silver catches the light.
His eyes darken.
A small relieved smile forms on his face "I knew it," he murmurs. "You still have it, Amara."
The way he says my name makes my pulse stumble.
My fingers twitch at my sides, fighting the urge to cover the necklace. To hide it. To hide how much it means.
"That doesn't mean anything, Xavier," I snap, forcing steel into my voice. "It just goes well with my outfits. And the hoodies were convenient."
I let out a breath that sounds steadier than I feel. "The world doesn't revolve around you or your fucking delusions." The words are sharp.
His smile disappears. "Right," he scoffs, but there's no humor in it. "Because God forbid you actually like something I gave you."
The distance between us feels thinner now, fragile. Like one wrong breath could shatter it.
Shit, Amara.
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face before he looks at me again and this time, there's no smirk.
Just hurt.
"Because that would mean you fucking cared about me," he says, his voice rougher now. "aand you don't want to admit that, do you?"
The accusation lands deep.
Too deep.
I open my mouth to fire something back, something defensive, something cutting, but nothing comes out. Because the truth is clawing up my throat.
I cared.
I do care.
His jaw tightens when I don't answer.
"You think I don't see it?" he continues, quieter now. "You wear my necklace. You sleep in my clothes. You still look at me like I'm the only one in the room."
My heart pounds violently against my ribs.
"And then you stand there and act like I'm insane for thinking you felt something."
He steps closer again.
"Tell me I imagined it," he says, voice barely steady. "Tell me I made up every second of us." His eyes intense and pleading, "Tell me I made up the feeling of your hand in mine, tell me i fabricated every kiss, every touch, every fucking moment we had, Amara."
"You want me to tell you that?" I whisper, and my voice already sounds broken.
"You want me to stand here and pretend I don't remember the way your hand fit into mine like it was made for it?
Like I didn't memorize the warmth of you, the way you'd pull me closer without even thinking, like it was instinct? "
I swallow hard, forcing myself not to crumble. "I remember every kiss, Xavier. Every single one. I remember how careful you were with me, and how reckless you made me feel at the same damn time. I remember the sound of your heartbeat when I laid against you"
My voice wavers despite my effort to steady it. "So don't stand there and ask me to tell you it was imaginary. Don't ask me to lie about something that was the only real thing I've ever had."
"Then why did you shatter my heart in pieces, Amara?" he asks, and cups my face, "Tell me why you left me and threw what we had away?"
His hands are warm against my face, and that makes it worse.
Because this is what I walked away from.
My lips tremble before I can stop them. I close my eyes for a second, gathering the courage I should've had when I left.
"It wasn't that simple," I whisper, my voice already splintering. "You think I woke up one day and decided to ruin us?"
I force myself to meet his eyes.
"Damon had information about my family. About my parents. Things that would've destroyed their reputation. Things that would've followed my brother, ruined the brand, dragged our name through every headline and every whispering room." My throat tightens.
I finally tell him.
My fingers wrap weakly around his wrists, not to push him away but to feel him
"He took it as leverage. He said if I didn't do exactly what he asked, he'd release everything. And you know how ruthless the media is. They wouldn't wait for the truth." I swallow hard. "He sent me to New York. Told me to get close to you. To break you."
The words taste like poison.
"He wanted revenge for what you did to him two years ago. He wanted your streak gone. Your focus destroyed. Your name dragged down the second you slipped." My voice cracks. "and he used me for it."
Tears blur my vision now, but I don't look away.
"I thought if I left you first you'd stay sharp. You'd stay angry. You wouldn't lose." A broken laugh escapes me. "I told myself I was protecting you."
My chest feels like it's caving in.
"But every word I said to you that day? Every cold look? It killed me too. I shattered my own heart just to keep him from destroying yours."
"Exactly, why you can't stay here, Xavier." I pull back a little, "if he finds out.."
He steps closer, the room suddenly smaller, the air thick around us. His grey eyes don't waver, and the intensity in them makes my chest tighten. "That bastard," he says suddenly, deliberately, "Damon Hunt.. he's gone for good."
"Wait Damon? What do you mean?" My voice breaks on the name, caught somewhere between hope and panic.
He doesn't hesitate. "I ended him, Amara." His words come low and steady, "Nothing to worry about now. He won't touch you. He won't threaten your family or you."
My fingers curl into fists at my sides as if I can hold myself together. "You... you did that for me?" I whisper, afraid of hearing the answer.
I want to ask him how he figured everything out, but then I chose not to ask.
A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "For you. Always for you."
His thumb traces the line of my jaw, softer than the man I know. Up close his breath is steady, warm. He leans in until our foreheads touch.
"I don't care that my streak is gone," he says, voice quieter now, "I am no Ring Lord anymore."
Those words hang between us, unbelievable and true. He gave up the thing that defined him.
Then he slides a gray bracelet over my wrist.
The one he promised he'd always put on my wrist if I lost it.
He looks up at me, asking without asking. "Clean me, patch me up, and then kiss me, Swan?" His tone is half command, half plea.
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