The silence after the gunshot was deafening.
Hayden stood still, breath shallow, eyes fixed on the man crumpled before him—one of Nicholas's last remaining loyalists. Blood pooled across the marble floor, a crimson bloom beneath the man's body. Behind Hayden, Ana stood motionless, one hand over her mouth, eyes wide and wet with fear. Not because of the man who had tried to kill them.
But because of *him.*
He turned slowly, eyes meeting hers. "He had a gun."
"I know," Ana whispered. "But you didn't even blink."
Hayden's jaw clenched. "I *couldn't* blink."
Her arms wrapped around herself as if she could shield herself from the man standing before her—the man she had just made love to hours earlier, in whispered promises and fevered touches. The same man who now looked like death itself. Cold. Controlled. Lethal.
And yet…
She stepped closer, drawn by something she couldn't understand. "You said it was over."
"It *was*," Hayden said bitterly. "But they keep coming."
"And you keep killing."
He looked away, shame tugging at something deep inside. "Would you rather I let him shoot me?"
"No," she said quickly. "I just… I thought we were done with the blood."
Hayden let out a humorless laugh. "There's no 'done' when you're born into war."
Ana stepped closer again, her voice low. "Then why did you bring me into this? Why force me into your world if you knew it was never going to end?"
"Because I wanted you to *change* it," he said, almost desperate. "You make me want something better. But it's not that simple, Ana. I don't get to walk away clean. There are always stains."
He turned and walked to the bar, pouring himself a drink with shaking hands. The glass trembled slightly in his grasp. "Do you want to leave?" he asked without looking at her.
Ana hesitated.
Did she?
After everything—after the abduction, the threats, the forced vows—after learning why he'd done it all—how could she *still* love him?
And yet, she *did*. The hatred had twisted into something rawer, more complicated. She saw the boy in his eyes again. The boy who had watched his mother burn.
She walked up behind him and gently took the glass from his hand, placing it down. Then she ran her fingers up his spine, soft and slow. "I don't want to leave. I just want you to come back to me."
Hayden turned, eyes dark with something deep—hunger, guilt, love. "I'm right here."
"No," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "You're always half in the shadows."
He caught her wrist, pulling her closer, their bodies flush. "And you—Ana—you're the only light I've ever known. That's what makes this so terrifying."
"Then stop being afraid," she whispered.
He kissed her. Hard. Desperate. It wasn't the gentle kind of kiss that came from comfort. It was need. Possession. A storm. His hands roamed her body like he needed to memorize her all over again. She gasped as he lifted her onto the counter, lips never leaving hers, fingers tangling in her hair.
Clothes came off like confessions. Her skin burned where he touched her—mouth trailing down her neck, teeth grazing her collarbone, fingers gripping her thighs. She moaned his name, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he claimed her again and again.
But this time, it wasn't just lust. It was something more primal.
This was a man clinging to the only thing that made him feel human.
And she gave herself to him willingly.
They collapsed together, tangled in limbs and sweat and breathless whispers. His head rested against her chest, her fingers stroking his hair.
"I'm scared," he murmured.
Ana blinked. "Of what?"
"Of losing you. Of becoming the monster everyone thinks I already am."
She pulled his face up to meet hers. "You're not a monster."
"You don't know what I've done," he whispered.
"Then tell me."
He hesitated. But the truth had begun to rot inside him, and with her warmth, it felt like he might finally stop bleeding.
"I killed her father," he said.
Ana's eyes widened.
"No, not Nicholas. The woman I was supposed to marry before you. My father arranged it. She was part of a peace pact. But I ended it. She knew too much. She threatened to expose our plans… so I made the call."
Ana didn't move. Didn't breathe.
"I've tried to forget her face," Hayden said. "But it's there. Every night. And the worst part? I didn't even *hesitate.* I thought it was just business. I didn't care."
"And now?" Ana asked, voice trembling.
"Now I care too much," he said. "Now I see your face every time I close my eyes, and I wonder what I'd become if I lost you."
She didn't speak. She just leaned in and kissed him again—not out of forgiveness, but understanding. Because she had her own ghosts. And they were now walking the same path, whether they liked it or not.
Just then, the phone rang.
Hayden tensed, reaching for it. His expression darkened as he listened.
"What is it?" Ana asked, sitting up.
He ended the call and looked at her with ice in his eyes. "They found someone. A leak in our ranks. Someone feeding Nicholas's surviving men our location."
Ana's blood ran cold. "Who?"
Hayden's expression was unreadable. "Elena."
Ana's stomach dropped. "Your cousin?"
"She's been working with the remnants. It explains how they've kept tracking us."
He stood, pulling on his shirt. "We're leaving tonight. The safehouse in Geneva. Pack only what you need."
Ana stared at him. "And Elena?"
"I'll deal with her."
"Hayden—don't do something you'll regret."
He looked at her for a long moment. "Regret is the currency I spend every day."
As he walked out, Ana felt the walls close in again. They were running from enemies outside—and the shadows inside Hayden that might never fully fade.
But she wasn't giving up.
Not yet.
Because she wasn't just in love with the man he was.
She was in love with the man he *could* become.