Chapter Twenty-One
Kylo
I’ve wanted a lot of things in life. Retribution. Ruin. None of it compares to her.
She isn’t some random woman I picked up to forget the war.
She’s Lia.
We’re living together, training together, and likely fighting side by side soon. I know I should’ve stayed away, but even my control has its breaking point.
Now that we’re in the privacy of my room, the fire in her has dimmed. She’s withdrawn, and the truth she spilled has my blood running cold.
Something’s wrong.
I stare down at her. “Two years? So you were nineteen?” I reiterate, needing to understand exactly what she’s telling me.
She shifts and lowers herself onto the bed. “Yes. It was my sophomore year of college.”
“It?” I press.
She twirls a strand of her dark hair around her finger—a habit I’ve noticed when she’s nervous.
“I had a boyfriend then. His name is Julian, and he’s the only person I’ve been with.”
She blinks rapidly, her lashes fluttering. When she finally looks up at me, those bright green irises are rimmed in red, swimming in unshed tears.
Fuck. Even on the days I’ve pushed her to the point of physical collapse, I’ve never seen her this distraught.
“What did he do to you?”
I’m certain that prick hurt her, but I keep my tone neutral, careful not to spook her. If I let my rage leak out now, she’ll think it’s directed at her.
She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
I don’t give her the chance to retreat into that cage. I drop to my knees in front of her, placing myself lower than her gaze, and peel her hands away. Her eyes lock with mine, and the vulnerability there is so raw it nearly undoes me.
“Take your time,” I assure her. “I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me when you’re ready.”
My mind replays every interaction we’ve had since she arrived at the compound. I noticed the jumpiness, the way she flinched when I moved too fast, how she recoiled from sudden touch.
I told myself it was everything she’d been thrown into—the loss, the compound, the training.
The fear of the unknown.
I was wrong. I missed the signs that were right in front of me. I never imagined it was something like this.
“I know it’s been years, but some scars don’t fade. Not when the wound runs that deep,” she says.
My jaw tics, teeth grinding. “How did he hurt you?”
“He got aggressive a few times. Squeezed my arm too hard, shoved me against the wall. He yelled when I didn’t do exactly what he wanted. He made me feel like I was his property.”
That’s not all. I can feel it.
The shame radiating off her, the violation—I feel it in my own chest. It fuels a fire I didn’t know I was holding.
That fucking asshole.
“What else happened?”
She’s tugging at her hair again. If she keeps it up, she’s going to tear it out by the root. I place my hand over hers to stop her.
“We had sex once. It was my first time.”
She says it with clinical detachment, like the words are coming from a recording rather than the woman sitting on my bed.
“That night… he squeezed my arms so hard it hurt. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t turned on. I had his fingerprints bruised into my skin the next day.”
I swallow down the fire in my chest, forcing the smoke out through my nose. “Then what happened?”
“I told him no. He shouted, grabbed me, and said it was too late to change my mind. After that… I just froze.”
“He raped you?”
“We were together, and—”
“Did you tell him to stop?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Lia,” I urge, needing her to listen to me. “Did you tell him to stop?” I repeat slowly.
“Yes, I told him to stop. He didn’t. I wanted to fight him off, but I—”
Her thoughts hit me square in the sternum, the psychic impact nearly doubling me over. I’ve always been able to hear her, but this time, the thoughts ignite a fury I didn’t know I was capable of.
She froze in fear because he’d hurt her if she tried to stop him.
I’m going to kill that motherfucker.
I rake a hand through my hair as I pace the small radius of the room. My mind is spinning, a dark gallery of every agonizing thing I’d do to that piece of shit if he were standing in front of me.
This woman—whose eyes hit me like light in a place I didn’t realize was dark—has had something stolen from her that can never be returned.
I kneel in front of her, my hands rubbing slow circles against her knees.
She shouldn’t have had to survive that.
I’m built for destruction, not comfort.
But right now?
I’d turn that destruction on anyone who’s ever made her feel unsafe, and anyone who tries again.
“I’d never hurt you.”
“I trust you.”
I trust you.
Three simple words, but they sucker punch me, because I know exactly what her trust cost her. What it means.
“I want this,” she murmurs, “but I understand if you don’t anymore.”
“No, that’s…” I stop, the words tangling in my throat. I’ve never been at a loss for what to say, but she’s a whirlwind of uncertainty I never saw coming.
I don’t know how to move forward without reopening old wounds. I can’t push. This is uncharted territory for me.
I’m not the touchy, emotional type. I’ve always kept things simple—physical, contained, disposable. No strings. No attachments.
With her, that won’t work. I need to move at her pace. Letting someone else lead isn’t something I do.
“Tell me what you need.”
“What you once promised me on the beach,” she breathes, her eyes searching mine with a desperate kind of hope. “I only want to feel you. Nothing else. Just you.”
I meant every word. I still do. But now that I know her past, I can’t afford to get this wrong.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my hands still steady on her knees. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”
“I’m sure. Give me something new to hold onto.”
I have a thousand questions, but they can wait.
“I promise you, Lia, the only thing you’ll feel tonight is me,” I pulse into her thoughts.