Chapter Forty-five Jennifer
Chapter Forty-five
Jennifer
The blood is gone, but I can still see it. It’s in my mind, staining my memories, dripping from his hands like it did hours ago.
I want to forget the way he looked at me when I found him, drenched in red, eyes burning with something I couldn’t name. I want to forget how, for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was the man I loved or a stranger I should fear.
But I can’t.
Not when he’s on top of me, begging me to stay. Not when his voice, rough and breaking, says words I never thought I’d hear from him.
“I’m begging you, I… I need you. Don’t you see that?”
Daniel Caruso—the man who never pleads. Never asks. Never begs.
But now, he’s pleading for me to stay. And God, I wish he wasn’t. Because it makes this so much harder.
I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I’m afraid of that side of him or the fact that I still love him despite it.
He killed a man.
He stood before me, covered in blood, his expression blank as if it meant nothing.
But now? Now he looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.
It hurts. I hate myself for running away when I knew he needed to see I wouldn’t. I hate myself for being terrified of this version of him.
It should be normal to be terrified of it. After all, I know who he is. I know what he does. I’ve known since we met.
I promised him that I’d also love this side of him. And when he needed my reassurance, I ran away.
Now he’s begging me to stay. Because he thought I was going to leave. Just like I left that room, the second he turned around.
I feel like a bitch. It was a normal reaction—anybody would’ve reacted like this—but I should’ve told him earlier.
I should’ve turned around, told him I couldn’t see this scene, and walked away. To reassure him. To tell him, it’s not you. It’s me who’s at fault.
“Daniel… There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Even if I’m scared, I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I know you’d hurt others to save me instead.”
And that? That’s a huge privilege, one that isn’t self-explanatory. I’ll forever be thankful for that.
"Listen…" I whisper, my voice breaking. “I love you. You have no idea how much meeting you changed my life, in a good way.”
His grip on my hands tightens, his dark eyes desperate. I see it—the fear. The panic. The silent plea.
“Please don’t leave me, baby. Please…”
I smile gently before my hands find their place on his face, my eyes focusing on his. He doesn’t pull away. His eyes—desperate and raw—search mine for something he doesn’t yet know he needs.
“I would never leave you,” I murmur softly. “I need you to know that… I just… needed to get out of there. I needed time for myself. Seeing you like this, it…”
I hesitate, taking a slow breath. His thumb brushes over my knuckles as if anchoring me to him. His touch calms me, but it also makes my heart ache.
“It triggered the memory of the day we met. When I couldn’t save that man, my hands were drenched in blood, it just…
I just couldn’t stay in that room with you.
The sight of all that blood, it just got too much for me.
But I need you to know that no matter what, I’d never stop loving you.
I’ll always stay by your side. The situation just overwhelmed me. ”
I mean it. No matter how much I tell myself I should be terrified of him, the truth is crueler.
I’m not terrified of him. Though I know I should be.
No. I’m terrified of losing him.
Seeing him act like the monster lurking behind the side of him I’ve always known—it scared me. It worried me in that moment.
But at the same time, I know I’m supposed to love all of him. And I will. Even if it takes me some time. I’ll do it—for him.
A flicker of uncertainty lingers in his eyes. He’s unsure if he should believe me.
It hurts me to know. Because all I want is to see him happy. I just want all of this to be over, so that he can have some peace.
I want to be his peace.
And then, without warning, his lips crash into mine.
It’s not hurried or desperate, but it’s everything I was wishing for just seconds ago.
He kisses me forcefully, almost possessive, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear the second he lets go. And I can feel it—the fear in his kiss, but also the need.
His hands pull me closer, but I don’t resist even for a single moment. There’s a fire, a warmth that burns between us, but it’s not about his sexual desires, it’s about him telling me, without words, that he can’t lose me.
That he loves me just as much as I love him.
I kiss him back, matching the intensity but holding back the part of me that wants to escape, because I know now I won’t. Not for him.
The kiss deepens, but not in a way that pulls us into anything more. It’s the kind of kiss that seals a promise—it’s quiet, powerful, full of understanding and silent apologies. A kiss that binds us tighter than anything words could say.
When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing heavily.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, my voice rough. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
He nods slowly, his forehead resting against mine. For the first time, I see a flicker of peace in his eyes, a quiet surrender.
And I know that, for him, this is enough.
Both of us together is enough.