Chapter 18

The rain was stupid loud by the time i made it up the steps, like not just wet, it felt personal, like it wanted me drowned before i even got the damn key in the lock. my coat weighed twice as much as it should, sticking to my arms like punishment, boots squelching, i could feel water in my socks and i hate that more than anything. my fingers were slipping on the keys, stupid yellow light buzzing over my head, and i swear i could hear my own breath louder than the rain. then—footsteps.

I froze because of course i did, i’m always freezing when i should move. slow at first but then quicker, like an echo that didn’t belong to me. i whipped around, keys jammed between my fingers like that would do anything, and there he was. dom. just standing there at the bottom like some scene out of a bad movie. rain in his hair, dripping down his jaw, shirt plastered to him like skin. and his eyes, they always find me no matter what light, no matter where.

“what are you doing here?” it came out sharper than i meant, but maybe i meant it sharp, maybe i wanted to cut him before he cut me again.

“izzy—” he said my name in that low way, like gravel, like he was tired of pretending. “we need to talk.”

and i laughed, but not the funny kind. “now you want to talk?”

he took the steps like they weren’t wet, like nothing could stop him, two at a time, and suddenly he was too close. “you didn’t give me a chance back there.”

“i didn’t think i needed to,” i snapped. “looked like you were fine without me.”

he shook his head, firm, too calm. “that’s not what it was.”

“oh please.” i shoved the key in harder than i had to, twisting like maybe the lock would understand my anger. “go home, dom.”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. he followed me in, door closing with this soft thud that felt louder than thunder. and suddenly it was just me and him and that smell of rain that clung to him like a second skin. puddles on my floor, the mess spreading like he owned the space.

“do you want to know who she is?” he asked, tight voice, like the answer mattered.

“no,” i snapped, coat thrown somewhere, didn’t care where.

“yes, you do.”

and i spun so fast it hurt my neck, hands on hips because if i didn’t hold them there they’d shake. “why? so you can say she’s your sister, your cousin, your business whatever? it doesn’t matter. whatever game you’re running—it stops now.”

his jaw ticked, i saw it, that twitch he can’t hide. “you think this is a game?”

“what else should i think?” my voice was cracking and too loud and i hated it. “one minute you tell me to stay out of things, next minute you’re—” i bit down on the rest, choking on words i didn’t want to give him.

he reached out. i flinched but he still caught my arm. not rough. too gentle. warm. wrong.

“izzy.”

i tried to pull back but i couldn’t. his grip wasn’t even that strong but it was enough. and then my body betrayed me, shivering, not from cold.

“you’re not listening,” he said.

“because i’m tired of half-truths. i’m tired of being told to wait, to shut up, to let it go. every time it’s complicated you just—leave.” my throat burned, i hated that i sounded like i was begging.

we stared, and everything stretched so thin it could snap.

and then he kissed me.

no warning, just his hand on the back of my neck dragging me forward, breath stolen, heart slamming so hard i thought maybe he’d feel it. it was hard, clumsy, like neither of us knew how to do it without breaking first. rain on his lips, whiskey too, my hands grabbing his shirt like claws.

then deeper. hotter. like fire catching paper. my back hit the wall and it was cold but he was burning and i wanted closer. i let my fingers slide under his shirt, over his stomach, skin hot and alive, and the sound he made—low, rough—went straight through me. his mouth moved down my neck, biting, and i couldn’t breathe.

clothes started coming off, not even thinking. jacket, sweater, i don’t even remember what landed where. his hands mapping me like he’d been waiting forever, my leg wrapping around him, pulling him into me until i couldn’t tell where i ended. i didn’t think about dad. didn’t think about cameras or shadows or how everything’s twisted. it was just this. him. me.

but he stopped. like someone yanked a plug. forehead pressed to mine, breathing ragged, like he was trying to keep himself from exploding.

“i can’t,” he whispered, and it sounded like pain.

“why not?” i hated how soft i sounded.

“if i stay… it ruins everything.”

“it’s already ruined.”

he pulled back just enough, hands slipping away slow like he didn’t want to. then jacket from the floor, movements sharp, wrong, scared. “i’m sorry.” but it wasn’t soft sorry, it was broken sorry.

then he left. door shut. just the rain outside, muffled and cruel.

i stayed against the wall, head back, lips tingling, skin too hot. i knew it wasn’t over. not even close.

and the worst part, the part i can’t say out loud, is that when he kissed me i forgot my dad even existed. vincent, all his rules, his threats, the shadow men, the fear—gone. erased by one stupid kiss. and that’s terrifying. because i can’t afford to forget who he is. who i am.

and i hate myself for wanting more anyway.