Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
ARIA
Heartbreak felt like drowning in slow motion. Every breath a little harder than the last, every moment stretching into an eternity of suffocating pain.
Except I wasn't sure if my heart was breaking because of what I'd seen Kai do, or because of what I'd said to him afterward.
Monster.
I'd called him a monster. Watched something die in his eyes. I watched him shut down, walk away, and promise to leave me alone.
And now I couldn't stop replaying it. The execution. The casual way he'd pulled the trigger. The absolute lack of hesitation. The blood pooling dark and final beneath a body that had been alive seconds before.
I should be terrified. Should be running. Should be doing anything except standing in the conservatory at ten in the morning, mindlessly arranging roses in a crystal vase while my thoughts spiraled.
My hands moved automatically. Trim the stem. Strip the thorns. Place it in the arrangement. Repeat.
I'd always thought people who killed were completely bad. Black and white. No gray area. You either had that capacity for violence or you didn't. And if you did, you were irredeemable.
But Kai complicated everything.
Because the same hands that had pulled that trigger were the hands that held me when I cried. The same man who'd executed someone without blinking was the man who'd promised to protect me. To save me.
Was I making excuses because it was him? Was I so far gone that I was refusing to see what was glaringly obvious? That he was exactly what I'd called him?
My feelings were clouding my judgment. Had to be. No rational person would look at what I'd witnessed and think anything other than 'run.'
But I wasn't running. I was arranging flowers and trying to reconcile two versions of the same person that shouldn't be able to exist together.
"You're going to decapitate that rose if you're not careful."
I jumped, nearly dropping the pruning shears. Lia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"Sorry. I didn't hear you come in."
"Clearly. You've been mutilating that same stem for like five minutes." She moved closer, took the shears from my hand gently. "Want to talk about whatever's eating at you, or should I just watch you commit botanical murder?"
I hesitated. Lia had been straight with me from day one. Honest when she could have lied. Warned me when she could have stayed silent.
"Are you scared of your brother?"
The question hung between us. Lia's eyebrows rose.
"That's what's bothering you? What happened yesterday?"
"He killed someone right in front of me. Didn't even hesitate. Just pulled the trigger like it was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing to him." Lia set the shears down carefully. "But it was necessary. In this world, weakness gets you killed. Mercy gets exploited. Kai knows that better than anyone."
"That doesn't answer my question. Are you scared of him?"
"No." Zero hesitation. "Kai would never hurt me. Would never hurt anyone he actually cares about. The violence? That's for the family business. That's what our father made him into."
I turned back to the roses, my fingers trembling slightly as I reached for another stem.
"How do you separate it? How do you look at him and not see..."
"A killer?" Lia finished for me. "Because I also see the brother who used to read me bedtime stories. Who took punishments meant for me. Who's been planning for years to get us both out of this life. He's both things, Aria. The protector and the enforcer. You can't have one without the other."
My chest felt tight. "Do you think he can ever actually get out? Live a different life?"
"I hope so." Lia's voice went soft. Sad. "For both of us. For you too, if you stick around. But honestly? I don't know if it's possible. This life has claws. It doesn't let go easily."
She touched my shoulder gently before leaving. "Whatever you decide about my brother, make sure it's what you actually want. Not what you think you should want."
After she left, I stood there for a long time, staring at the half-finished arrangement.
What did I want?
I wanted Kai. Wanted the version of him that made me feel safe. That looked at me like I mattered. That promised to save me from his father.
But could I accept the other version? The killer? The man who'd looked me in the eyes while executing someone?
I didn't know. God, I didn't know.
That night, sleep was impossible. I tossed and turned, sheets tangling around my legs, mind refusing to quiet.
Why couldn't I sleep? Why was I so restless?
Liar. I knew exactly why.
Because I needed to see him. Needed to talk to him. Needed something I couldn't name but felt like it might kill me if I didn't get it.
At 2am, I gave up. Slipped out of bed, adjusted my silk nightgown, hesitated.
This was insane. Going to his room in the middle of the night wearing basically nothing. After everything that had happened. After calling him a monster.
I went anyway.
The hallway was dark, silent. My bare feet made no sound on the carpet. Every shadow felt like Luca waiting to catch me. Every creak made my heart race.
I reached Kai's door. Raised my hand to knock. Hesitated again.
What was I doing? What was I going to say? I knocked anyway. Soft. Gentle.
The door opened almost immediately. Kai stood there, shirtless, hair messed from sleep, eyes dark and unreadable.
He saw me and something flashed across his face. Then he grabbed my wrist, pulled me inside, shut the door.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"
"I'm fine. I just..." I looked at him. Really looked at him.
God, he was beautiful. Dangerous and beautiful and I was so screwed.
"I've been thinking about what you said. About accepting both versions of you. About choosing with my eyes open." My voice shook. "I don't know if I can do that, Kai. I don't know if I'm strong enough."
He stood very still. "Then why are you here?"
"Because I can't stay away." The admission tore out of me. "I've tried. God, I've tried so hard to keep my distance. To be smart about this. But I can't. I need you."
His expression changed. Went dark. Hungry. Predatory.
"What do you need, Aria? Be specific."
I stepped closer. My body was making decisions my brain hadn't approved yet.
"I need to feel something other than fear and grief. I need you to make me forget everything else. The execution. Your father. The wedding. All of it. Just... make it go away for a while."
His jaw clenched. "If we do this again, there's no going back. You understand that? You'll be mine. Completely. I won't be able to let you go."
"I'm already yours." The truth of it settled in my chest. "I think I have been since that first night. I just didn't want to admit it."
Something in him snapped. He closed the distance, his hands cupping my face as his mouth found mine. Hard. Demanding. His tongue swept past my lips, claiming, possessing. I opened for him immediately, my own hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer.
This wasn't gentle. This was desperation. Need. Two people who'd been fighting this for too long finally giving in completely.
His hands left my face, sliding down to grip my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel every hard line of his body. Could feel exactly how much he wanted this.
His mouth crashed into mine like a man starving, his lips bruising, his tongue forcing its way past my teeth before I could even gasp.
I made a sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan—my back arching as his hands fisted in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to deepen the angle.
The sting of it sent a jolt straight to my core, my body responding before my mind could catch up.
His other hand slid beneath the thin silk of my nightgown, fingers digging into the bare flesh of my ass, lifting me against him like I was weightless. Like I was his.
And god, I wanted to be.
Fear coiled in my chest, but it wasn’t the cold, sharp kind that made me want to run.
It was hot, liquid, pooling low in my belly, making my thighs clench around nothing.
His body was a furnace against mine, all hard muscle and restrained violence, his rough edges against my bare skin where the nightgown had ridden up.
He walked me backward without breaking the kiss, his steps sure, mine stumbling, my heels catching on the edge of the rug before the back of my knees hit the mattress.
I fell, but he followed, his weight pressing me into the sheets, his mouth never leaving mine.
His hands were everywhere. One tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp sting, the other ripping at the delicate straps of my nightgown.
The silk tore with a sound like a whisper, the cool air hitting my bare skin as he exposed me.
I should have stopped him. I should have something.
But then his palm cupped my breast, his thumb rolling over my nipple until it ached, and all I could do was moan into his mouth, my fingers clawing at his shoulders through the fabric of his dress shirt.
“Fuck,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough, almost angry. Like he hated how much he wanted this. Like he hated me for making him want it. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”
I wasn’t perfect. I was small. Breakable.
His hands were too big, his body too heavy, his presence too much.
But when he finally pulled back, his dark eyes burning into mine, I didn’t look away.
I couldn’t. He held me there, pinned by his gaze as much as his body, his breath hot against my swollen lips.
“Tell me to ruin you,” he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous thing.
“Ruin every part of me.” I whispered and I meant it.