“I'm sorry?—”
“I told you not to say that!” The roar came from somewhere animal. Feral. From the place where I kept everything I couldn't afford to feel. “Your sorry changes nothing! Brings nobody back! Does not fix the fact that I chose morality over her life! That I stood on principle while they destroyed her! That every day I am alive is a day she is not because I was too fucking proud to break one man who probably deserved it anyway!”
My voice broke.
Just shattered like glass. Like every wall I'd ever built collapsing at once under weight they were never meant to hold forever.
Sebastian moved. Closed the distance in two steps. His hands found my arms, gripping hard enough to hurt, grounding me in reality when all I wanted was to disappear into the past and fix everything I'd broken.
“Look at me.” Not a request. A command. “Viktor. Look at me.”
I couldn't. If I looked at him, if I saw pity or disgust or anything resembling what I deserved, I'd fall apart completely.
“Please.”
The word undid me.
I looked.
Found him staring back with eyes that held no pity. No disgust. Just raw understanding that hurt worse than any condemnation could have. Like he'd looked at the worst parts of me and decided they were worth holding anyway.
“It wasn't your fault,” he said.
“I was supposed to protect her.”
“You were a kid yourself. What were you, nineteen? Twenty?”
“Eighteen.” The number felt obscene. Like admitting how young I'd been made it worse somehow. Made the failure more complete. “Eighteen years old and so fucking sure I knew what was right. So convinced I could stand on principle and the world would bend around it.”
“You tried to do the right thing. That's not?—”
“Is exactly failure!” The words exploded out of me. “I chose morality over her safety! Chose to feel noble instead of keeping her alive! If I had just done what they asked. If I had just broken one man who probably deserved it anyway, she would still be here! She would be alive and whole and?—”
“And you would be dead inside.” Sebastian's grip tightened. “You would've broken yourself to save her, and she would've spent the rest of her life knowing her brother became a monster to protect her. You think that would've been better?”
“She would be alive!”
“And you would be what? Their weapon? Their tool? The thing you spent years making sure you never became?” His voice went rough. Raw. “You made the only choice you could make, Viktor. The right choice. And they punished you for it because that's what powerful men do when people refuse to break.”
“I should have found her faster. Should have?—”
“You did everything you could.” His voice cracked. “Everything humanly possible. And it still wasn't enough because sometimes the world is just cruel and there's nothing you can do to stop it.”
The words hit like bullets. Each one finding its target. Each one opening wounds I'd spent years teaching myself not to feel.
“I have heard that before,” I whispered. “Does not make it easier.”
“I know.” He lifted one hand from my arm. Touched my face. Careful. Gentle. Like I was something fragile instead of something sharp and dangerous. “But maybe it's not supposed to be easy. Maybe grief doesn't get lighter. We just get stronger at carrying it.”
“I am tired of carrying it.”
“Then let me help.”
I stared at him. At this golden prince standing in rain and broken glass, offering to shoulder weight that would crush him. Offering it like it was simple. Like it wasn't the most dangerous thing he could possibly do.
“You do not know what you are offering.”
“I know exactly what I'm offering.” His thumb traced my cheekbone. Catching rain or tears, I couldn't tell anymore. Didn't care. “I'm offering to carry your ghosts with mine. To be someone you don't have to pretend with. Someone who sees all of it and chooses you anyway.”
