Page 60 of Gilded in Blood

He doesn’t say anything, doesn't push me to explain. He just holds me. Letting me fall apart against him. His arms are strong and steady around me, one hand slowly rubbing my back in soothing circles.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually the sobs ease into quiet, shaky breaths.

I pull back slightly, wiping at my face with the back of my hand. “I'm sorry⁠—”

He hooks his index finger beneath my chin, gently lifting my face. “Hey, no need to apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was… one of the women from the shelter. Maria. She’s the woman I told you about the other day.”

“The one with the abusive ex who has a drug problem?”

He does remember. “Yes. She… she killed herself. They found her in her apartment a few hours ago.”

I tell him everything, how hard she fought to get clean, how her ex kept dragging her back down, how she was finally starting to rebuild her life.

“She left the shelter a few days ago. She said it was too crowded. I was trying to find somewhere else for her to stay. I should’ve done more. I should’ve checked on her yesterday. Maybe if I’d called her… or pushed harder to get her somewhere safer⁠—”

“Stop.” Ilya’s voice is firm but gentle. He cups my face with one hand, thumb brushing away fresh tears.

“This isn’t your fault. Bad things happen sometimes, and we can’t control everything. You did everything you could for her. That matters.”

I start crying again. Without another word, he stands, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. I’m too drained to protest as he carries me out of my bedroom and into his.

He lays me down on his bed and climbs in beside me. He pulls me against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around my waist, the other hand stroking my hair.

“Let it all out,” he murmurs against the top of my head.

This shocks me. He’s never brought me to his room before. He’s never stayed with me after sex, never held me like this.

I feel pathetic for needing it, for making him do this just because I’m falling apart.

I try to pull away. “I shouldn’t⁠—”

“Stay.” His arm tightens around me. “You’re hurting. Let me help. If there’s anything I can do to make it stop, tell me.”

Our faces are so close. His breath brushes my lips. For a second, I want to tell him to kiss me. I want him to. So badly.

The words are on the tip of my tongue.

But I swallow them. I don’t want him kissing me because he feels sorry for me. I want him to kiss me because he wants to.

He pulls back slightly. That familiar pang of disappointment settles in my chest, mixing with the grief already there.

I’m exhausted. Emotionally drained. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and let myself cry again.

He holds me through it, until the tears finally slow and sleep starts to pull me under.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Milana

I open my eyes slowly, the room still mostly dark except for the soft gray light filtering in through the window.

My head is pressed against Ilya’s chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing. His arm is wrapped securely around me, heavy and warm.

For a moment, I just lie there, taking him in. The soft glow of the city filters through the window, falling across his face.

He looks so different when he’s asleep, the hard lines of his face softened, the constant tension in his jaw relaxed. His dark hair is slightly messy, falling across his forehead.