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“Then what is? Why won’t you let me in, Demi?”

I lifted my eyes to hers.

“If I let myself have this, I won’t know how to let you go.”

Her expression softened.

“Why would you have to?”

“Because everyone leaves eventually.”

“I’m standing right here, Demitri. Right here, right now.”

“For now.”

Pain moved through her face. “I have no intention of going anywhere.”

“What about me? What if I don’t survive tomorrow?” I asked.

Her palm struck my chest.

“Don’t.”

The blow barely moved me, but the fear behind it did.

“Adriana—”

She hit me again. I caught her wrist before she could do it a third time.

“Don't stand there and make your peace with dying before you’ve even left this room.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“No. You’re preparing yourself, Demi.”

“For what?”

“For the punishment you’ve been waiting for.”

My grip loosened.

Adriana pulled her wrist free.

“You treat every danger that crosses your path as a vengeance for your past. You think that if you die protecting someone, it will balance the lives you couldn’t save.”

Her anger fractured beneath my silence. She stepped into me and pressed her forehead against my chest.

“I don’t want your death to mean something,” she whispered. “I want your life to.”

My arms closed around her. One moment, she stood against me. The next, I held her so tightly that I felt every breath she took reverberate through me.

She buried her face against my neck. I lowered my cheek to her hair and closed my eyes.

My father had died because he sat in my car. Alessio had died believing I did not want him. My family had spent ten years wondering whether I was buried in an unmarked grave because I had lacked the courage to let them witness my guilt. Every loss became evidence against the idea that I should be allowed to have a good ending.

Adriana’s arms tightened around my waist.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.