“Who else can have access to that footage from the GPS camera?” I ask.
“No one but me. Don’t worry. I’ve already deleted the part when we had ourheart-to-heart chat.Do you want to see for yourself?”
“I don’t need to. You always have my back.”
“Good to know that you can finally trust me, at least when it comes to protecting you.”
“I know you’re furious with me,” I say quietly.
“I’m not furious.” His head shifts toward me. “I’m terrified.”
The admission catches me off guard. Tristan has never been one to acknowledge fear.
“Does that shock you, that you can make me feel afraid?”
Yes. But I don’t say it. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to say.
He stares back at the ceiling. “You have your way of bringing out the worst of me.”
“I didn’t mean to fall and cause all that panic.” I was running from my stalker, or so I thought. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Don’t.” The command is clipped, harsh. “I know it wasn’t your fault, but, for the love of God, you can’t put yourself in danger again.” He rolls on his side, and his breath fans my face. “When I saw you fall… When I couldn’t wake you up... I’ve watched men die, many by my hand. But seeing you lying there, blood on your face, not knowing if you’d open your eyes again—” He cuts himself off.
“Tristan—”
“I can’t lose you.” The words rush out, violent in their intensity. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” he continues after a long pause. “I’ve lost everything that mattered to me once before. I won’t go through that again.”
My heart stutters. This isn’t just about the job anymore or his promise to protect me. This is something deeper, something neither of us has dared to name or voice.
His eyes find mine in the darkness. The walls are down, and my breath catches at what I see.
Slowly, deliberately, he breaks the invisible barriers he’s set between us and reaches across the void. His fingertips brush the back of my hand where it rests on the blanket.
He swallows audibly. “Touch was a weapon used against me for a long time.”
I can relate. We both had monstrous parents who used us as punching bags. They took something from us that wasn’t theirs to take. “Tristan, you don’t have to. I know how hard it is for you.”
“It’s different with you.” The confession is dragged from somewhere deep inside him. “I don’t know why.”
I let my fingers slide among his, and he squeezes them gently without hesitation. “Maybe because I’ve been through the same kind of pain. I understand how it steals a piece of you that you’ll never get back, how it leaves a dark void that alters you forever, one only someone like us can fill…or fall into without remorse.”
He moves closer and pulls me toward him, until my head rests against his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath my ear. His arm encircles me, protective rather than restraining.
A smile stretches my lips. “I should fall and hit my head every day.”
“Don’t ever say that, not even as a joke.”
“Tristan—”
“You should try to sleep. Tomorrow will be...” He doesn’t finish the sentence. We both know what tomorrow holds.
I shouldn’t push for more, but I have to give it one last shot. “If I see him tomorrow, he won’t try to take me, you know, because he hasn’t earned me yet. And we both know he won’t kill me either.”
“Birdie,” he starts, not in reprimand or agitation, but in sinister affirmation, “there are worse things than death. Ways to keep someone alive but make them wish they weren’t.”
A chill runs through me at the darkness in his tone. I lift my head to look at his face, shadows playing across his features. Before I say anything, he pulls me back to his embrace.
“Sleep, Birdie,” he murmurs into my hair, his lips brushing against the back of my neck in a ghost of a kiss. “I’ve got you. I’m going to keep you safe. Whatever it takes.”
