I turned from Cezar, retreating to the farthest edge of the bed, as if distance could shield him from me. Every part of me screamed to stay in his arms.Weak. You’re too weak. He was speaking, but I couldn’t hear him. His warmth was dangerous, seeping into every hollow place inside me.
A trap. This was it. To need someone so badly that Viktor became inevitable.
I have to let him go to save him, free him from my prison.
I closed my eyes, pretending the dead man from my dream wasn’t breathing beside me. Pretending those icy blue eyes weren’t watching me with confusion I couldn’t bear. Pretending Cezar’s love wasn’t killing me faster than Viktor ever could.
Chapter 63
CEZAR
Lina woke, choking for air, nails carving into me before she ripped them away. I pulled her against me, trying to ground her, but her eyes were hazy. She was trapped somewhere I couldn’t reach. And the last time I saw that kind of terror in her, I had nearly died.
She told me she didn’t want to talk about it.
The lie distanced us. She crossed the room, shoulders locked, her withdrawal colder than any blade I’d ever pressed to her skin.
I gave her the only truth I had left. “I love you.”
Her jaw locked. “Don’t.”
A tremor ran through her as she faced the window. The reflection staring back wasn’t Lina. Not my Lina. It was someone wearing her skin—haunted and unraveled. My hand moved toward her, and she flinched as my mother used to when my father reached for her.
No!
“Don’t what?” My voice barely carried. “Tell you the truth?”
“You don’t know what I need. You can’t fix this. Just go.”
I stood there, chest cracked open, her silence widening a wound that would never close.
“Petal—”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Don’t call me that.” Her eyes were laced with anger or grief. Both hurt the same. “You can’t fix this, Cezar.”
The way she said my name made me feel unwanted, once again.
I know you’re hurting, but let me hurt with you.
I waited for her to look at me. To command me to stay. She didn’t.
So I left. The door slammed behind me, and the sound was the same as every moment that ever broke me—the night I lost my mother, the nights my brothers turned away. Some doors never open again.
Walking down the stairs, I realized I was holding my breath. Waiting for her to call after me. Waiting for anything to stop me from going back to the prison I had to call home. No one did, and then I was at the gates of hell once again.
The house reeked of smoke and old blood. I hadn’t even crossed the threshold when Father’s voice met me. “Do you know the cost of your silence?” His tone was flat, his words heavy with authority that had no meaning. “You were told to keep eyes on the west docks. Instead, I hear whispers of a Reaper.” He let the name curl with disdain. “Nycto.”
Codrin’s boots paced somewhere behind him, a restless echo.
“I kept eyes,” I said, shrugging out of my coat. “You’re welcome.”
“Welcome?”
Father stepped into the light—perfect suit, perfect posture, perfectly empty. Rage never wrinkled him. “Product gone. Wrath from men who should be dead. And a clown in a mask making a joke of my streets.”
“Then laugh.” I smirked.
“What did you do?”
