chapter 48

THEA

“Give it to me.”

He says, palm stretched out in expectation.

I fix my gaze on him in confusion, my fingers tightening around the card Nathan left behind, its sharp corners biting into my skin. I don’t move. My pulse thunders in my ears.

Ezra tilts his head. "Thea."

One word. My name, shaped by his tongue, low and sharp and… possessive.

“Give me the card, will you? You’re mine," he says, voice clipped with that maddening calm of his. "Or do you need me to remind you of that? It's not right if you have another man's card with you."

I huff out a laugh. Not because it's funny. Because it’s absurd.

"I’m not yours," I say, voice shaking from the fury bubbling under my skin. "You don’t get to decide who I talk to or what I keep."

His jaw ticks. His fingers curl slightly, not quite a fist, not quite a reach.

"The card, Thea."

"You mean my card. It's mine now.”

His eyes darken.

"I’m not a thing you can claim, Ezra," I whisper, the words trembling at the edges. "I have the right to hold onto this.” I say, raising the card. “Just like I have the right to decide where I stand—with you, or without you."

I don’t move to give him the card.

And he doesn’t move to take it.

He grits his teeth so hard I fear he might actually break his jaw.

"Not with the way he looks at you."

I blink. "He can look at me however he wants," I bite back. "As long as I have a backup plan for when I finally leave this place."

His eyes flare. A vein throbs at the side of his neck as he asks slowly. "Is it because I asked to take this more seriously?"

I hesitate. That pause—that single beat of silence—says too much.

And he sees it.

But I can’t tell him the truth. I won’t tell him that I’m terrified. That the more he gets under my skin, the more I want to stay. That he’s not just a risk—I’m starting to think he might be the end of me.

So I lie.

I cross my arms and steel my voice. "No. It’s because you’re a mystery. I know nothing about you. And maybe…" I swallow, letting the next words cut deeper than I intend, "I don’t even care enough to know."

The moment I say it, regret curdles in my stomach.

Ezra stares at me like I just slapped him. And maybe I did.

His voice drops, rough and raw. "If that’s why you won’t choose me… I’m ready to tell you."

My breath catches, hand slowly dropping to my sides.

"What?"

He stands up, the air between us charged like a storm ready to crack.

"I’ll give you the truth. All of it. Everything you want to know about me and my world, Thea. Just say the word."

I don’t move. I don’t speak. Because the one thing I want more than anything—is the very thing I’m scared I won’t survive.

Him.

I won’t keep lying to myself.

I want him.

I want Ezra Harrington.

My boss.

My complication.

My undoing.

Even if it makes me selfish and stupid.

Even if it feels like I’m choosing my happiness instead of Finn’s.

Even if it makes me question everything I’ve rebuilt.

Because with Ezra, I feel seen. Stripped bare. Terrified.

But also... alive. Like I’m allowed to want something for myself again.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

But I won’t tell him.

This want—this reckless, soul-burning desire—will die with me.

Because I can’t afford it.

Because love doesn’t just take, it demands.

And I’ve given all I have left.

I chose Finn.

I will always choose Finn.

Even if it breaks me. Even if it means lying to Ezra… and to myself.

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not sure what for. “I… I.” I gulp audibly.

But what do I tell him? That I want to know him. But at the same time I'm sorry?

For wanting him?

For not being brave enough?

For being a mother first, and a woman second?

His eyes search mine but he doesn’t move.

He just stares at me with those impossible eyes, pale blue beautiful eyes.

Then, softly, like a dare wrapped in silk, he repeats, “Ask me.”

My throat tightens. “I…”

“Anything.” He continues. “Ask me anything you want to know.” His voice is low, rumbling like a storm on the horizon. “No lies. No riddles. No half-truths.”

I hesitate.

Because part of me is still terrified.

Because the bigger part… is curious. Hungry in a way I don’t understand.

And maybe knowing won’t kill me.

Maybe it’ll give me a reason not to run. Or run without looking back, without remorse, with the Want dying.

So I sit. Slowly. My fingers twist into the hem of my blazer, the only thing keeping me from unraveling.

One question.

I can ask just one.

My voice is quiet. Steady, despite everything screaming inside me as I ask,

“What do you mean… that I’m your mate?”