Page 72 of Torn By Fate

I watched from my side of the bed, the comforter pulled to my chin, as he tested the restraint with a practiced tug, like he had done the previous nights.

My gaze flickered to where the leather had left faint red marks on his skin, but he didn’t seem to mind. It was so strange, watching him bind himself at my request, watching him relinquish the control he always maintained with stubborn arrogance.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” I whispered, though we both knew it wasn’t true. The ritual had become our nightly ceremony; his promise to me made tangible.

His pale eyes met mine. “Do you trust me to sleep beside you?”

I pressed my lips together. I didn’t answer.

I didn’t trust Adrian. But not in the way he thought. I strangely believed his words when he said he wouldn’t touch me unless I asked him to. Maybe that was stupid of me. Maybe I was being silly.

I didn’t trust him with my heart. With my truth. With my future.

He burned me once.

And I bore the scars—physically and in every corner of my memories.

I could never trust Adrian Salvatore.

Not in all the ways that it actually mattered.

When I didn’t respond, he spoke for me, his voice a little rough. “Then I still have to do this.” His lips twisted with almost a bittersweet smile.

It made my heart ache. How strange.

This feeling… it was unwelcomed. Unnecessary. Purely a weakness that I didn’t need.

I turned away, listening to the rustle of sheets as he settled beside me. The space between us remained a narrow canyon of unspoken words.

His breathing eventually steadied into sleep while mine remained stubbornly alert. Every time I inhaled, I was reminded of his presence. Every exhale begged for another breath because somehow… in some unacceptable way… his scent had become almost… addictive.

Damn it all, my fate was sealed.

My downfall was absolute.

It was shamelessly ironic and almost comical. Though nothing about that realization was truly… humorous. It felt more like a death sentence.

Sleep refused to come.

The ceiling stretched above me like a blank canvas. I counted the cracks I had memorized over the past three nights—nine in total, branching like veins across the white surface. I followed their paths with my eyes, tracing them from one wall to the other, and found no answers in their patterns.

There were no answers in anything anymore.

I painted the ceiling with my fears and all the uncertainties that were part of my life now. The peace treaty between Matteo and me was simply ashes now.

I had been lied to.

I had chosen wrong.

And now I had more enemies than I could possibly know.

Every mistake I made had been fatal.

Yet, I found myself still alive, still breathing.

Maybe I was just lucky. Maybe fate had pitied me.

Or maybe it was thanks to the man sleeping beside me.