And suddenly, my mind is clear.
“You don’t control me,” I say, and the moment the words leave my mouth, I realize they’re true. This isn’t the dungeon. This isn’t the fake life he built around me. This is me. And I make the decisions now.
He frowns. “Of course I don’t control you. But you still need protection—”
“I also need to trust whoever’s protecting me,” I cut him off. “And I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” I pause. “I don’t even fucking know who you really are.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he growls, fire simmering behind his eyes.
“It meansyou wore a mask for almost a year.It meansyou lie as easily as you breathe.It meansI wouldn’t trust you not to throw me to the snakes if youfeltlike I wronged you.”
He opens his mouth, but I stop him with a flick of my wrist.
“You could wake up on the wrong side of the bed, hear me say something you don’t like, and fuck me up. Again!” I cross my arms. Glare. “I’m not putting my life in your hands.”
He’s in front of me before I can blink. A shadow crashing into my space. Close. Too close. I have to tilt my head just to meet his eyes.
“I’d rather slit my own fucking throat than hurt you ever again,” he says. His voice is low, laced with darkness. And pain. So much fucking pain. “If my death would erase that day for you, I’d already be burning in hell.”
I swallow. Step back. “I don’t believe you,” I whisper. “I can’t afford to.”
Suddenly, I feel tired. So tired.
“I wish I could. The life you tried to sell me — it was everything I dreamed of. But now it’s just a nightmare I want to forget.”
Something shifts in his face. A crack in the armor. He looks away. He seems... ashamed?
“You hurt me.” It comes out small. Wrecked. I pour every last drop of pain into those three words.
When his eyes meet mine again, I see the same pain mirrored back at me. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to acknowledge it. It’s easier that way.
I take another step back. Like distance could undo what I just saw.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
It lands like a punch. His voice is raw. Torn. Worn down to nothing.
He breathes in, shaky. Tries to pull himself together. Then looks me dead in the eye.
“Hate me. Don’t believe me. Don’t trust me. But you still need protection, Adora.” A pause. “I hoped this wouldn’t happen. I really did. I prayed those fuckers would stay gone. But this is where we are now. And whether you like it or not, I will keep you safe.” His voice drops. “I won’t see you hurt. Never fucking again.”
I look away. Something inside me shakes.
“Domino,” I hear myself whispering the name of my favorite Vulture. “I want Domino. I trust him.”
He sighs. “Domino’s good at a lot of things. The kind of protection you need is not one of them. He gets bored easily. Doesn’t pay enough attention.”
I open my mouth to curse him and his stubbornness out, but suddenly, I’m just too fucking tired.
“I’m hungry,” I mumble, and my stomach decides to rumble in agreement.
His eyes flick down, then back to mine. Something flashes through them but it’s too quick to catch it.
“Come on,” he says. “You can yell at me again after you eat.”
“You’re not cooking,” I throw at his back as he opens the door. But it lacks any heat. I need food. Fast.
“I won’t,” he mutters, already walking down the hall.
