“I love you too,” he says, still studying me. “What’s bothering you?”

  My throat bobs with a nervous swallow that his pale eyes track. I sit up taller and reach for the bedside table, hands trembling as I open the drawer and close my fingers around the cool metal band. Xeni watches without a word as I turn back to him.

  “I want to marry you,” I whisper, holding up the ring. His gaze drops to it, eyes widening. “I know it’s a human tradition, and we probably can’t make it official, and you might not even want—”

  “Hey,” he soothes, cutting me off gently. “Are you kidding me right now? Look at me, Bash.”

  I meet his gaze, and it’s soft, open, and brimming with everything we never need words for. Declarations of love and devotion that could fill lifetimes.

  “You think I might not want to marry you?” he asks with an incredulous laugh. “I want you in every way possible. I’ll be your husband, your mate, your best friend… I’ll be your everything, just like you’re mine.”

  “We can’t do it for real.”

  “It’ll be real,” he insists. “It’s always real between us.”

  “So you’ll marry me?” I whisper, voice shaking.

  His smile is radiant as he wraps me in his arms and squeezes until I can barely breathe.

  “Of course I’ll marry you. I would’ve married you on our first date. But now? Gods, Bash, I never thought I could love someone like this.”

  He pulls back with that mischievous smirk I adore. “Let’s do it right now.”

  “What?” My eyes flick to his, finding only joy.

  “Right here. In this bed.”

  “We’re naked, Xen,” I scold.

  He laughs in that carefree sound that still gives me butterflies. “Even better. Less in the way when we consummate it.”

  I bark a laugh and shove his shoulder as he wiggles his eyebrows, and we dissolve into giddy laughter.

  “You’re sure?” I ask once we calm.

  “I’m positive.”

  I glance around at the dim bedroom. “How do we do it?”

  “Just say whatever’s in your heart,” he says with a sweet smile.

  “Okay,” I breathe with a nod, steadying myself. “I can do that.”

  “I know you can,” he whispers, tipping his forehead to mine.

  We hold each other’s gaze until my pulse slows, and then I find the words come easily.

  “I promise to love you until my very last breath. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, you’ll be my first thought when I wake and the last before I sleep. One lifetime will never be enough, but I swear I’ll make every moment count.”

  A tear slips down his cheek, and as I brush it away, he nuzzles into my palm.

  “Your turn,” I whisper.

  He laughs, halfway to a sob, then draws a deep breath.

  “Ever since you walked into my life, I wanted to know you. And once I knew you, I wanted to be with you always. Some days I’m convinced I’ll wake up back in time, still trailing after you like a lost puppy, waiting for you to notice me.”

  “I always noticed you, Xen,” I murmur.

  His smile turns heartbreakingly tender. “You are my forever, Sebastian. The great love of my life. If you ever doubt it, remember us right now in this moment. Remember that I would go to any lengths to protect you, and nothing could ever change that.”

  “I love you,” I whisper, leaning in for a kiss.

  He sniffles and laughs, placing a hand on my chest to stop my advance.

  “Pretty sure there’s another step first.”

  We glance down at the ring, and my hands are steady now as I slide it onto his finger.

  Our eyes meet again, and I am whole.

  “You won’t be able to wear it in public,” I say softly.

  “That’s okay,” he replies. “I’ll know it’s there, even if no one else can see it.”

  He weaves our fingers together, the ring glinting between us. “You may now kiss the husband,” he whispers.

  We smile until our cheeks ache as I cup his face and draw him close, fisting his hair to pull him impossibly nearer. Our lips meet, and I pray life will always be this perfect.

  The memory fades, leaving me clutching the ring so tightly the edges bite into my skin. I stare at it for a long time, the polished silver catching the faint light, every imperfection a reminder of the night I made it for him.

  He kept it.

  All these years, through everything, he kept it.

  The realization knocks the air from my lungs, and I slip the ring onto my pinkie. It’s too big, but close enough, and my hand curls into a fist and presses it against my chest where that permanent ache lives.

  I don’t know what comes next, but pretending I don’t care feels impossible.

  I gather his things, placing them into the satchel with more care than I want to admit. The map of the city goes in last, folded neatly on top.

  When I step into the hallway, Cato and Ego fall quiet. They don’t ask questions, only share a look that says they understand.

  “Let’s go,” I say, voice steadier than I feel, and my hand stays in my pocket as we leave the inn.

  They talk and chatter on the walk home, but my attention stays locked on the secret weight pressing against my skin.

  Xeni

  I stare at the wall, tracing the faint scuffs and marks with my eye even though I should try to rest. My mind refuses to quiet for the night, spinning in relentless circles of worst-case scenarios ever since Bash threatened to drop me outside the city.

  The possibility that this might be the end, that he could finally be done with me, creeps up my throat in a tide I can’t swallow. It floods me with a grief so sharp it feels like it could drown me from the inside.

  Footsteps approach the door, heavy at first, then pausing as whispered voices exchange something just outside. One set retreats down the hall while the door creaks open.

  Bash’s familiar scent reaches me before anything else, and I realize he’s alone. My heart stutters in a desperate, traitorous hope even as dread coils tighter in my gut.

  Maybe it's a good thing.

  Or maybe this is goodbye, and he's granting me the dignity of doing it without witnesses.

  I lie perfectly still, facing away and barely breathing as he hesitates in the doorway. A quiet sigh escapes him, laced with exhaustion and something far more fragile. He steps closer until his presence looms beside the bed, then settles onto the floor and leans against the side of it with another sigh. The sound is deeper this time, carrying a weariness that’s seated in his very soul.

  Thick, suffocating silence stretches between us, broken only by the soft rhythm of our breathing. Every one of my nerve endings is alive with the agony of his nearness as I wait in the charged quiet.

  “I know you aren’t asleep,” he says at last.

  “No,” I admit just as quietly.

  “Why’d you keep it?”

  I twist to look over my shoulder to find the back of his head only a foot away. Slowly, I roll over to face him, though I keep my distance.

  “Keep what?”

  “The ring,” he whispers.

  My fingers tighten in the blanket to stop me from reaching out. “It was the only part of you I had left.”

  He breathes a laugh that dances the line between sorrow and anger. “We both know that isn’t true. You kept the best parts of me when you sent me away.”

  “Bash—”

  “I have questions,” he interrupts, “and I want answers. But only the truth this time. No more half-truths or sideways lies.”

  “I’ve never lied to you,” I say, my voice trembling despite my effort to hold it together.

  “Maybe not,” he replies, “but you never gave me the whole truth either.”

  I don’t counter him.

  He’s right, and the silent admission hangs heavy in the space between us.

  He swallows audibly before he asks, “The people you’re with now… they’re friends?”

  “It took time for me to accept,” I say after a moment of finding my composure, “but yes. They’re good people, trying to right wrongs in a world full of them.”

  “That’s a heavy burden for a small group.”

  “It is,” I agree, “but things feel… different there.”

  “Different how?”

  I pause, staring at the back of his head where I know the pattern of his corkscrew curls by heart. “Do you remember how we used to talk about feeling like we were running in place? Like no matter how hard we tried, nothing ever changed, and we were just following the path that was laid out for us?”

  He nods, turning his head just enough that I catch the flutter of his lashes.

  “After you were gone,” I continue, “the world stopped moving entirely. I was standing there, watching life happen around me while I played the role they expected. When they moved me to Glaston, it felt like I could breathe a little easier. Maybe because I was farther from Ljómur, maybe because I was closer to you—”

  “Don’t,” he mutters, the word pained.

  My fingers brush the back of his neck in a touch so tentative, I’m not even sure he feels it until he freezes.

  He doesn’t pull away, and my foolish hope grows.

  “It’s true, though. We said no lies.”

  He swallows hard and nods once, and I take it as permission to continue.

  “I wasn’t happy… I could never be happy, but it was a step in that direction. When they sent me back to Ljómur, I thought for sure it was going to kill me. The weight of that place… the memories…”

  I grow quiet, tracing tiny shapes across his skin and absorbing every ping of static that passes between us. “When we escaped and I saw the place was nothing more than rubble, I was terrified. Any resources I had, any ways to make sure you were okay—”

  “Wait,” he interrupts as he turns to look at me. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  I search his eyes for a long time, and they’re hard at first. But eventually something inside him caves, and I see the vulnerability he hides so deep.

  “You know why,” I finally whisper.

  “You left me,” he says, his voice catching. “And what’s worse, you blindsided me with it. You could’ve warned me you were going to break my heart.”

  “I had to do it.”

  “Why?” he asks a second time, and it’s just a single word, but it carries so much weight.

  I force a swallow and steady my breathing, nodding a few times to collect myself.

  “They found out,” I admit.

  His shoulders tense. “What?”

  “I was so careful,” I say as I shake my head. “I always covered the mark, and never showered where anyone could see. But one day a prisoner panicked and grabbed my scrubs, and everything happened too fast. Aeliphis was there. She saw the color of your skin on my hip… she knew.”

  He’s quiet as he takes in the information, the muscles in his jaw working. “Okay, so she found out. That doesn’t answer my question.”

  I shake my head, remembering that split second that sealed our fate and stole our future. Such a tiny moment that caused such destructive ripples in time.

  “She wasn’t going to keep our secret out of the goodness of her heart,” I say.

  “So, what?” he challenges. “She would’ve reported us? We could’ve faced it together, Xeni. We could've lived in those tiny, shitty apartments, and let them study us. Hells, I would’ve let them tear me to pieces if it meant staying with you. We could’ve been together. We were always supposed to be together.”

  Tears blur my vision, and a lump swells in my throat. “It’s not that simple.”

  “It could’ve been,” he says, voice rising until it cracks with the depth of his hurt. “It would’ve been awful, but I would’ve chosen it every time if it meant keeping you. I loved you that much.”

  “You don’t understand,” I choke out.

  He rushes to his feet, but I scramble to follow and grab his shirt to stop him from walking away.

  “Then help me understand!” he begs as he spins to face me, ripping his shirt from my grip.

  The absence of my hold on him is jarring, and I stumble back against the wall.

  Bash steps forward until he crowds me, caging me in his arms like it’s a punishment.

  Like it’s not exactly where I want to be.

  “Make me understand,” he pleads, searching my face like there might be a simple answer there.

  “Please,” I beg as his eyes squeeze closed. “Please, Bash, trust me. I didn't have a choice. You ask why I kept that ring? It’s to remind myself of my promise to you.”

  He shakes his head, eyes still closed. “What promise?”

  “To protect you,” I whisper, the nearly silent words breaking. “I swore I would always protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?” he demands, finally opening his eyes to meet mine.

  The silence stretches as dread mounts in my stomach, but even now, the risk is too great to share.

  It’s the one thing I can’t give him, and the one thing he needs.

  There’s war in his posture—the desperate desire to believe me clouded by the self-preserving doubt that tells him it’s just another lie.

  “Please,” I say at last, fingers clutching his shirt like it’s my only lifeline. “Don’t go. I love you, Bash. Everything I’ve ever done was because I love you. Please don’t leave.”

  He pushes out a shaky exhale, and his voice is pained. “If I don’t go now, then I’ll just fucking stay.”

  “So stay,” I beg, tugging on his shirt and pulling him close until we’re breathing the same air.

  “Stay.”

  His thumb brushes the tears on my cheek with a tenderness that undoes me completely.

  “What I would’ve given to hear you say that four years ago,” he murmurs as he leans his forehead against the wall beside my head, our cheeks barely touching.

  “Too much time has passed,” he says, voice thick. “It’s too late for us.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I insist with a choked sob as more hot tears fall. “Not for us. We’re forever. We promised.”

  His head twists until his lips brush my cheek, hot breath puffing over my skin. “I hate how much I want you.”

  “Don’t hate me,” I whisper back, turning to find his eyes. “Don’t send me away. Don’t push me out, don’t… don’t…”

  Panic closes my throat as more tears track my cheek, and I close my eye so I don’t have to watch whatever comes next.

  Pity or anger, indifference.

  All of it hurts.

  “Don’t throw me away,” I plead. “I just wanted to protect you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  His breath hitches, dissolving into quiet sobs that echo mine, and something in me shatters completely at the sound.

  “Do you still think you did the right thing?” he asks as he presses closer.

  I could tell him it was wrong.

  Swear I made a terrible decision.

  Beg and plead for forgiveness, and claim that he’s right, that he’s always been right, and I was wrong for making that choice for us both.

  I should lie.

  But I promised truth.

  “Yes.”

  He pushes out a shaky, surprised breath before he pushes away from the wall. Instincts flare inside me, telling me if I let him walk away this time, he won’t come back.

  He’ll be gone, and I’ll be as good as dead myself.

  “Bash, no,” I beg, still gripping his shirt as he bounces back to me.

  Questions dance in his eyes—confused, angry things that demand a response I can’t give them.

  He inches forward, his internal conflict playing out before me and his restraint held by a thread that’s close to snapping. Tentative fingers grip my chin, and his eyes dip to my mouth before finding mine again.

  My lips part, ready to beg, but he silences the pleas trying to escape as he kisses me with devastating gentleness.

  It’s not a first kiss, not by hundreds—thousands, even—but gods, it feels like it in all the ways that matter. Uncertain breaths blowing over my skin. Eyes that flutter closed but spring open again, searching for a reaction. Hesitant lips and unsteady hands, and the thundering of our hearts as they reach for their other half.

  My palms find their place on his chest, feeling that pounding inside him. He pulls back with a sigh through his nose, still so close I can feel his breath.

  Uncertainty fills his eyes, his pupils dilating like he’s perceived a threat.

  Fight or flight.

  Stay or go.

  Another shaky exhale leaves him as he leans forward and kisses me again. There’s more intention behind it this time, more surety behind the questions. My fingers flex against his pecs at the familiar weight of his mouth on mine.

  Every cell in my body reacts, crawling to where we touch and igniting as they beg for more.

  I’ve always been so fucking greedy with him.

  For a few blissful seconds, everything disappears and all that’s left is the two of us together. The axis has been righted, and the world makes sense again.

  But it doesn’t last.

  He pulls back and searches my face, gaze sweeping over my cheeks, my mouth, then lingering on the eyepatch before moving to the messy strands of hair falling across my forehead. It feels like he’s memorizing me, noting every line, shadow, and scar like he’s taking a photograph of this exact second to carry with him.

  Like he knows it might be the last.

  His eyes finally settle on mine again, heavy and red-rimmed, and his voice comes out scraped raw.

  “Don’t make this harder for me than it already is. I won’t survive being broken by you again.”

  He leaves me there, and I let him go.

  My arms fall limp, useless at my sides, because fighting now would only tear the wound wider.

  Those embers of hope that had flickered back to life die in an instant, snuffed out until I’m cold again. He reaches for the door, fingers lingering on the frame as if letting go hurts more than he can stand.