The Night She Stops Resisting

Celeste did not mean to stay.

That was the thought that circled quietly through her mind long after the estate had fallen into an uneasy calm and the last of the flashing lights beyond the gates had disappeared into the distance. She had told herself she would remain only until the immediate danger passed, until Dante’s wound was properly secured and his men had confirmed that Adrian was no longer inside the house.

Instead, she found herself still sitting on the edge of his bed, her hands clasped loosely in her lap as the weight of the night settled into her bones.

Dante had removed his ruined shirt and replaced it with a fresh bandage, though she could see the stiffness in the way he moved each time he shifted his weight. He was trying to hide it. He always tried to hide it.

“You should lie down,” she said, watching him from across the room.

His mouth curved faintly, though there was no real humor in the expression.

“You’re still here.”

It was not a question, but it felt like one all the same.

“So are you,” she replied.

He crossed the distance between them slowly, as though giving her time to move away if she chose. She did not. She told herself it was because she was too tired to stand, too drained by the adrenaline that had been running through her veins since the moment the first shot shattered the glass.

But when he stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body even without touching him, she knew exhaustion was not the only reason she had remained.

“You were right about Adrian,” she said quietly.

Dante’s gaze did not leave hers.

“Yes.”

“And you still let him stay.”

“I needed to know how far he was willing to go.”

Her throat tightened.

“He was willing to kill you.”

A brief silence followed, heavy with everything neither of them had yet said.

“He was willing to kill you,” Dante corrected.

The distinction made her chest ache.

She looked down at her hands, noticing for the first time that they were still faintly stained with his blood despite having washed them twice. The sight made something inside her twist painfully.

“You put yourself between us,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He did not answer immediately. Instead, he reached out as though to touch her, his fingers hovering near her shoulder before he seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall back to his side.

“You know why,” he said at last.

Her heart beat faster.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

The truth was that she did know. She simply did not want to accept it.

Dante exhaled slowly, the sound rough in the quiet room.

“If he had fired again,” he began, “I would not have been able to stop it.”

She lifted her head sharply.

“But he did not,” he continued. “Because I was there first.”

Celeste rose to her feet before she realized she had moved. The distance between them vanished in an instant, her pulse loud in her ears as she searched his face for something she could not name.

“You cannot keep doing that,” she said.

“Doing what?”

“Acting like your life is expendable.”

His brow furrowed slightly.

“It is,” he replied simply.

The words landed like a physical blow.

“No,” she said, her voice shaking now. “It isn’t. Not to me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then his hand lifted again, this time brushing lightly against her arm as though he were testing whether she would pull away.

She did not.

The contact was barely there, a whisper of warmth against her skin, but it sent a tremor through her all the same. She told herself it was the aftershock of fear, the lingering panic that had not yet fully left her system.

But when his fingers slid from her arm to her wrist, curling gently as though to anchor her in place, she knew it was something else entirely.

“You should not trust me,” he murmured.

“I don’t,” she replied.

“Then why are you still here?”

Her breath caught.

Because leaving would mean going back to the person she had been before tonight. The woman who believed she could handle everything alone, who believed that distance was the same thing as safety.

That woman had nearly died.

She swallowed hard.

“Because I don’t trust anyone else,” she admitted.

Something changed in his expression then, a flicker of emotion that passed too quickly for her to fully understand.

“You are making a mistake,” he said.

“Probably.”

“And you will regret it.”

“Most likely.”

He gave a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh.

“And yet you stay.”

“Yes.”

The word hung between them, heavier than anything that had come before.

His hand moved from her wrist to her waist, settling there with a restraint that felt more dangerous than any forceful claim could have been. She felt the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her clothes, felt the way his thumb pressed lightly against her side as though reminding himself she was real.

“You do not understand what this will cost you,” he said softly.

Her gaze did not waver.

“Then show me.”

The silence that followed was electric.

Dante’s jaw tightened, his restraint visibly fraying as he searched her face for hesitation. When he found none, his hand slid upward, fingers tracing the curve of her back before settling between her shoulder blades.

He moved slowly, giving her time to stop him if she chose.

She did not.

When his mouth found hers, the kiss was nothing like the one they had shared the night she met him in the bar. There was no haze of alcohol this time, no blur of desperation or reckless need.

This was deliberate.

Careful.

As though he were committing the moment to memory.

Her hands rose to his chest without thinking, gripping the fabric of his shirt as the world beyond the room seemed to fall away entirely. The sirens were gone now. The threats and betrayal and danger that had defined the last few days faded into the background until there was only this.

Only him.

Only the quiet certainty that everything had just changed.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against hers, she realized she was trembling.

“You should have walked away,” he said.

She shook her head.

“It’s too late for that.”

Outside, somewhere in the darkness beyond the estate walls, the war continued to gather strength.

Inside, Celeste made the choice she would not be able to undo.