Chapter 12: reconciliation

Killian’s POV

Emery rested against the wall of my office wall. The silence between us stretched like a wound that refused to heal. Her breath was shallow and she had put distance between us. I didn't know how long we stood there silent staring at each other like we could communicate with our eyes. 

She had placed a distance between us like she could run away from me. I hadn't chased her, I didn't call her, I didn't ask after her from her sister. 

I had waited for her. Patience wasn't my best suit but still, I waited. I knew she didn't want to be chased.

I knew that she wanted to be left alone. And here she was staring at me in my office. I could go to her but I didn't. Not yet

 Despite the distance she had put between us, the only thing that was serving as an obstacle was my oak office desk.

After the incident that happened— the media came to the penthouse and questioned us which led to Emery's out bust. 

I thought I had lost her, that she would come, that I wouldn't see her again. I knew she needed time but I didn't know how much time she needed.

But here she was, standing in my office; she hadn't walked away this time, which meant something.

She finally broke the silence. “Why didn’t you chase me?”

“I wanted to,” I said quietly. “But what you needed wasn’t me chasing you—knowing I’d be there if you came back.”

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine. Broken. Brave. The kind of courage born from too much pain.

“I came back,” she said, almost in disbelief. “Even after everything.”

“I know.” I hesitated, swallowing the pride that normally protected me. “Which is why you deserve the truth. All of it.”

She didn’t say anything, she just waited.

I lean back to the leather chair, my hands creasing my temple. I didn't know how to start, but I began anyway. “a lot of people wonder why Tobias carries two different names when we have the same parent, but we don't. My father, the almighty Sinclair met my mother at a bar. They said she was a stripper before she met my father. But he fell for her charms and she stopped her stripper work because of my supposed father. She wasn't aware… she wasn't aware that he was married, and they got into an intimate relationship, and she got pregnant with me. But my father couldn't show her to the world. He was ashamed of her because of her background, and he took her to a remote Island to raise me. When I was just 10 years old, my lovely mother suffered from skin cancer and died. After six months of suffering, begging for food after her death, a man appeared and claimed to be my father. I fought against him and said he was a trafficker but after a DNA test, I agreed to follow him back. But he takes me to his house, first, he took me to an old lady who did the job of— accord to him brushing off my bush behavior and that I stink of poverty” I gave out of low chuckle and a semi-sad smile played on my face

Her lips parted slightly, eyes softening. “Killian…”

I saw her pain; it was genuine, but I no longer felt the pain if my shameful background story had gotten used to it. Her pain wasn't forced like the others who sympathized with me because it was what they were supposed to do. 

I held up a hand—not to stop her, but to hold myself steady. “Tobias always reminded me. Always made sure I knew I was the bastard, the backup plan. He got the luxury. I got the strategy. Everything I’ve done—it wasn’t to hurt you, Emery. It was to make sure I never ended up back there again. Power was the only armor I had.”

She blinked hard. Her voice came out small. “And now?”

*Now I’m standing in front of the only person who made me think maybe I don’t need armor anymore.” I smiled bitterly at the thought of her. “But I wrecked it, didn’t I?”

I looked at her, my eyes twitched with anticipation— I hoped to hear a positive response that she had forgiven me. That she understood my pain and that I did what was necessary.

 But she didn't answer right away. Instead, she gave me a long stare like she was searching my eyes to ask— should I forgive you?

Then she signed “I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, Killian. But I see you now.

Her words cut deeper than any insult ever could, but deep down, there was a small part of me that rejoiced because they weren’t rejection. They were possibilities.

As if a heavy weight had been lifted up from my shoulder, I nodded and pressed a hand on my chest like I could keep the relief from tearing me apart. 

I could have asked for more but I couldn't because I didn't think I deserved it. 

I didn't know how long it would take for her to forgive you and trust me again but I was going to wait

But this moment of confusion and reconciliation was cut short and my peaceful thoughts will snap out of me. I was deep in thought, but my phone had beep, and that cut my attention,n, and a message popped up. It was from Elijah— an encrypted message

I stood up. “I need to take this.”

Emery stood too, eyes narrowing. “Who’s Elijah?” her eyes were glued on me like she was searching my soul. 

I stared at the screen, jaw tightening. “Someone I hoped would stay in the shadows.”

“Killian—”

I looked up, my tone suddenly cold. Not toward her—but toward the danger rising like smoke on the horizon. “You should stay in this office. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. Understood?”

Her expression tensed, but she nodded.

I stepped into the hallway and tapped the screen.

Elijah’s voice was low and mocking. “Wolfe. You’re slipping.”

Elijahah,” I said, already pacing. “I was wondering when the rats would crawl out of the sewer.”

“You thought Tobias was your biggest problem?” he laughed. “Cute. But you and your pet fiancée just made a lot of enemies. Powerful ones. Maybe you should’ve played nice.”

The line went dead.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

This wasn’t just about business anymore.

This was war.

And Emery—she wasn’t just collateral. She was the target.

And I wondered why they truly needed Emery. What hurt me? Or was it just Tobias playing his game? I have made a lot of enemies from the business world, and l have shot down a lot of companies, but none of them have come for me or attempted to fight back, not even once, but all of them are ganging up against me. Why now. It shouldn't be now. Not now. Not when I now had to weak spot

I turned back toward the office and she was there sitting, her posture rigid 

She looked up as I stepped in, sensing the shift in the air. “Killian, what’s wrong?”

I crossed to her in three strides, cupping her face and pressing my forehead to hers.

“Everything’s about to change,” I whispered. “But I swear to you—I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let them touch you.”

She didn’t flinch this time.

She wasn't scared.

She didn’t back away.

She just whispered, “Then let it burn.”

Her words stunned me. I was surprised by her braveness. It was a new side of Emery I was seeing. It was like she had transformed this past few that she had distanced herself, and I liked it. The media has really done a lot in changing the way she approaches things

Then let it burn.

She wasn’t just standing beside me—she was anchoring me. Not because I deserved it, but because something between us had refused to die, no matter how many times I tried to drown it in ambition, in control, in fear.

I eased my hand from her cheek and laced it with hers, guiding her gently toward the lounge tucked inside my office. The storm could wait for one more hour.

Right now, I need to feel something real.

She sat beside me on the leather couch, not too close, but not far either. The silence was softer now. Not strained—just tentative. Like we were both learning how to breathe in the same rhythm again.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor before turning to her. “I’ve spent years building walls no one could climb. Making sure no one ever saw the cracks.”

Her eyes were on me, steady and patient.

“You didn’t knock them down, Emery. You just... sat at the base of them until I had no choice but to let you in.”

She looked away at that, her fingers curling into the hem of her sleeve. “And what if I get inside only to find more lies?”

I reached for her hand and held it. “Then I won’t stop showing you the truth. Over and over, until you believe it.”

Her chin trembled, and she looked back at me. “I don’t know how to be close to someone who might leave.”

“I don’t know how to stay,” I admitted, my voice raw. “But I want to learn.”

That was when she moved.

She didn’t launch into my arms like in the movies. She just shifted closer, her head resting carefully on my shoulder. My hand curled instinctively around her waist, pulling her closer, protective without asking permission.

Our relationship has been improving a lot. And the wall that she built had begun to fall. It wasn't as strong as the first 

Her scent hit me—vanilla and something soft and earthy. Familiar. Calming. Dangerous in the way it undid me.

I kissed the top of her head. Gently.

“I don’t need you to fix me,” she murmured. “Just don’t lie to me again.”

“I won’t,” I whispered.

Not because it was easy.

But because lying to her had hurt more than any truth ever could.

She shifted slightly to look at me, her fingers trailing along my jawline. “Why me?”

I almost smiled.

Because it was you that saw me.

Because it was you who stayed when you had every reason to run.

Because it was you that kissed me not to take, but to ask.

Because it was you who tried to understand me. 

Because it was you that felt my pain.

But all I said was, “Because you make me feel like I’m worth saving.”

And then, before I knew what happened, she kissed me again.

It happened so fast that it took me some time before my brain could register but I was fast, I didn't freeze like the last time I parted my lips to welcome her our tough play tag her lips were soft and sweet my griped on her tightened

Not a kiss of desperation like before. This one was slower, softer—cautious but full of promise. My arms pulled her into my lap as her fingers slipped into my hair, anchoring me the way mine had once done to her.

We didn’t speak.

There was nothing left to say.

I kissed her like I wasn’t a man used to power, but a man finally learning what home felt like.

We didn’t fall into bed.

We fell into silence—tangled on the couch, holding each other like people who knew what it meant to lose everything.

And just as her breathing began to steady against my chest, I felt my phone vibrate again.

This time, a single word from Dante.

Tomorrow. Noon. Or she burns.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t speak.

Because right now, she was safe.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow I’d have to choose how much of myself I was willing to lose to keep her.