Chapter 40 #2
“So this isn’t about me asking for another chance.
This is me saying you’re free. Completely free.
To choose whatever you need.” My voice breaks.
“And whatever you choose, I’ll still love you.
I’ll still be grateful for the time we had.
I’ll still think you’re the most remarkable person I’ve ever met. ”
I stop. Can’t say more. Everything I have is laid bare.
The room is silent.
Reid is staring at me with tears shining in her eyes.
Reid
He’s not asking me to forgive him. He’s releasing me. Giving me complete freedom to choose.
And that—that’s what breaks me.
Because an abuser doesn’t do that. A manipulator doesn’t do that.
Someone who’s genuinely changed does that.
I stand. My legs are shaking.
“Can I—can we have a minute?” I ask Mac.
“Of course. Cameras are still rolling, but take your time.”
I turn to Sulla. He’s looking at me like he’s bracing for a blow.
“You ran across a failing bridge for me,” I say. My voice is trembling. “Without hesitation. You could have died.”
“I wasn’t going to let you fall.”
“I know.” I wipe my face. “I’ve spent three months trying to reconcile who you were with who you are. The monster with the man. And I kept thinking they couldn’t both be real. That one had to be a lie.”
He says nothing. Just watches me. His fingers flex. Perhaps he wants to touch me, but he refrains, just as he just pledged in front of the world.
“But they’re both real, aren’t they? You were a monster. And you’re trying to be a man. Both true. Both you.”
“Yes.”
“And just now—you gave me freedom. You’re not holding me hostage with guilt or love or anything. You’re just… letting me choose.”
“Yes.”
I take a step closer. “That’s not what a monster does, Sulla. That’s what someone who actually loves me does.”
Hope flickers in his eyes. Fragile. Tentative.
“I don’t know if I can forget what you were,” I say honestly. “I don’t know if I can fully reconcile it. But I know that who you’re becoming matters. I know that change is real. I know that you love me—really love me—because you just proved it by letting me go.”
Another step closer. We’re inches apart now.
“I choose you,” I whisper. “Not because you begged. Not because you manipulated. Because you gave me freedom and I’m choosing to stay anyway.”
His face crumbles. “Reid—”
“I love you.” The words come out steady despite my tears. “I loved you in the bothy. I loved you when I found out. I love you now. And I want to try. I want to see who we can be when we’re not hiding anything.”
“Are you sure?” His voice breaks. “Because if you need time—”
“I’m sure.”
He reaches up, cups my face with shaking hands. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Maybe not. But you’re trying to. And that’s enough.”
He kisses me.
Gentle. Reverent. Like I’m precious.
The room erupts in applause.
When we pull apart, I’m crying and he’s crying and the entire sanctuary is on their feet.
Mac is grinning. “Well. That’s one way to end a reunion special.”
Sulla
She chose me.
She knew everything—every terrible thing I did—and she chose me anyway.
Not because I demanded it. Because I released her and she stayed.
We sit back down, fingers entwined so tightly we might need grease to unravel them. Mac wraps up the special. Thanks everyone. Cameras finally stop rolling.
The room empties slowly. Contestants coming up to congratulate us. Sanctuary families hugging Reid, welcoming her.
Finally, we’re alone in the common room.
“So,” Reid says. “What now?”
“I don’t know. My imagination never took me this far.”
She laughs. Actually laughs. “Me neither.”
“We figure it out?” I offer.
“Yeah.” She squeezes my hand. “We figure it out.”
We walk out together into the afternoon light. The sanctuary grounds are beautiful—gardens blooming, families gathering, life happening.
And for the first time in my existence, I’m part of it.
Not on the margins. Not isolated. Not alone.
With her.
“Hey,” Reid says as we walk. “That donation to my father’s care facility. The anonymous one.”
My heart stops. “Reid—”
“I’m not asking if it was you.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m just saying thank you. To whoever did it.”
Our eyes meet. Understanding passes between us.
She knows.
I’ll never admit it.
And that’s perfect.
“They’re lucky,” I say carefully. “Whoever got to help. That must feel good.”
“Yeah.” Small smile. “It must.”
We keep walking.
Together.
Finally.
The sanctuary celebrates that evening. Dinner in the main hall—contestants, gladiators, families all mixing. Toasts. Laughter. Warmth.
Reid stays close to me. Our hands find each other under the table.
As the evening winds down, she leans over. “Can we go somewhere? Just us?”
“My cabin?”
She nods. We slip away quietly. Walk through the dark grounds to my cabin at the edge of the property.
I unlock the door. She steps inside, looks around at the small space that’s been my home for two years.
“This is where you’ve been living,” she says softly.
“Yes.”
She turns to face me. “Show me who you are now. Not who you were. Who you are.”
I close the door behind us.