DAMIEN'S POV
She's still on the floor where I left her.
Broken. Beautiful. Mine.
I should leave. Should walk out that door and let her process everything I just told her. Let her absorb the truth about what I've done. What I've planned. What I want.
But I can't.
Because I've waited twelve years for this moment. Twelve years of watching and wanting and holding myself back.
And I'm done waiting.
I crouch down in front of her. She doesn't look at me. Just stares at the scattered medical papers on the floor.
"Aria," I say softly.
Nothing.
"Look at me, little bird."
"Don't call me that." Her voice is dead. Empty. "Don't call me anything. Just leave me alone."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?" She finally looks up. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying. "You got what you wanted. You told me your twisted truth. You proved you're a monster. So just go."
"I am a monster," I agree. "But I'm not done yet."
"What else could you possibly want from me?"
Everything, I think. Your body. Your soul. Your complete and total surrender.
But I say: "I want you to understand something."
"Understand what? That you're obsessed with me? That you've been stalking me since we were kids? I get it, Damien. Message received."
"No." I reach out slowly. Giving her time to pull away. "You don't get it. Not yet."
My hand touches her face.
She freezes.
The moment my skin meets hers, electricity shoots through me. Hot and sharp and perfect. Like touching a live wire. Like coming home after years of wandering.
She feels it too. I can see it in her eyes. The way they widen. The way her breath catches.
"Stop," she whispers.
"Why?" My thumb traces her cheekbone. Soft. Gentle. Everything I'm not. "Because you're scared? Or because you like it?"
"Both."
At least she's honest.
I move closer. Slow. Careful. Like approaching a wild animal that might bolt at any second.
"I know you ran because you felt it too," I say quietly. "The way my touch made you guilty. The way you'd look at me and hate yourself for wanting."
"I didn't—"
"Yes, you did." My hand slides into her hair. She trembles but doesn't pull away. "You've wanted me for years, Aria. You just convinced yourself it was wrong. Sick. Impossible."
"It was wrong. You were my brother."
"But I'm not." I lean closer. So close I can feel her breath on my lips. "I never was. And deep down, some part of you always knew that. That's why you felt guilty. Because your instincts were screaming that we weren't related. That what you felt was natural. Normal."
"There's nothing normal about this."
"No," I agree. "Normal is boring. Normal is safe. Normal is everything we're not." My other hand finds her wrist. I can feel her pulse racing under my fingers. "We're dangerous, little bird. We're the kind of love that destroys everything in its path."
"That's not love."
"It's the only kind of love I know." I press my forehead against hers. "Twelve years, Aria. Twelve years of wanting you so badly it physically hurt. Of watching other men look at you and wanting to rip them apart. Of lying in bed at night imagining what it would feel like to finally touch you without pretending it was innocent."
Her breathing is uneven now. Ragged.
"Every time I put my hand on your shoulder," I continue, "I imagined pulling you closer. Every time I hugged you goodbye, I imagined never letting go. Every time you smiled at me, I imagined kissing that smile off your face."
"Stop talking."
"Why? Because it's making you uncomfortable? Or because it's making you realize I'm telling the truth?"
She tries to pull away. I don't let her.
"You're not running this time," I say firmly. "You're not disappearing to Paris or anywhere else. You're going to sit here and listen to every word I have to say."
"I don't want to hear it!"
"Too bad." My grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to keep her here. With me. "You know why I tracked your phone for two years? Why I watched you build your little life in Paris?"
"Because you're a psychopath?"
"Because I needed to know you were safe." My voice drops. "Because every second you were away from me, I imagined terrible things. Accidents. Attacks. Some other man realizing how special you are and stealing you before I got my chance."
"Your chance at what?"
"This." I pull back just enough to look at her. Really look at her. "My chance to prove that what we have—what we've always had—is real. That it's not some sick fantasy. That it's fate."
"I don't believe in fate."
"You will." I trace her jawline with my fingertips. She shivers. "Three months, little bird. Three months of me proving that we belong together. That we've always belonged together."
"And if you can't prove it?"
"I will." I lean in until my lips are almost touching hers. Almost. "Because I know something you don't."
"What?"
"You've been in love with me for years. You just haven't admitted it yet."
She laughs. It's a broken sound. "You're delusional."
"Am I?" My hand moves from her hair to her neck. I can feel her pulse jumping under my palm. "Then why is your heart racing? Why are you trembling? Why haven't you pushed me away?"
"Because I'm scared."
"Of me? Or of yourself?"
Silence.
Perfect, telling silence.
"That's what I thought." I smile. "You're not scared of me, Aria. You're scared of how much you want this. How much you've always wanted this."
"I hate you," she breathes.
"I know." I finally close the distance and press my lips to her forehead. Soft. Reverent. Nothing like the claiming kiss I want to give her. "But you'll learn to love me anyway."
The electricity between us is overwhelming now. My entire body is screaming at me to kiss her properly. To pull her against me. To show her exactly how much I want her.
But I don't.
Because she's not ready. Not yet.
And when I finally take her—when I finally make her mine completely—I want her to want it just as badly as I do.
So I pull back. Stand up. Put distance between us even though every instinct is screaming at me to stay.
"Get some rest," I tell her. "Tomorrow we start your new life."
"My new life as what? Your prisoner?"
"No." I walk to the door. "As my future. My always. My everything." I pause with my hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Aria? I'm giving you a choice."
"What choice?"
"Accept what we are," I say quietly. "Accept that we're meant to be together. Accept that running is pointless and fighting is useless. Accept that three months from now, you'll be mine in every way that matters." I look back at her. "Or run again. Try to escape. Fight me every step of the way."
"And if I choose to run?"
"Then I'll find you." My voice goes cold. Hard. "I'll always find you, little bird. I'll chase you to the ends of the earth. I'll destroy every life you try to build. I'll eliminate every person who tries to help you. I'll make it so the only safe place in your entire world is right here." I tap my chest. "With me."
She stares at me. Horrified.
Good.
She should know what she's dealing with. Should know exactly how far I'm willing to go.
"Three months," I repeat. "That's all I'm asking. Three months of giving us a real chance. And if, at the end of those three months, you still want to leave..." I pause. "Then I'll let you go."
"You're lying."
"No." And I mean it. "If you truly want to leave after three months of really trying, I'll let you go. I'll give you money. Resources. A new life anywhere you want. I'll even stay away." The words taste like poison. "But you have to really try, Aria. You have to give us a real chance."
"And if I don't? If I refuse to play your sick game?"
"Then I take the choice away." My smile is dark. "Then I lock you in this room and keep you here until you understand that you belong to me. That you've always belonged to me. That you'll always belong to me."
I unlock the door and open it.
"Choose wisely, little bird," I say softly. "Because one way or another, you're mine. The only question is whether you come willingly or whether I have to break you first."
I walk out.
And I leave her there on the floor.
Shaking.
Terrified.
Wanting.
And knowing—absolutely knowing—that she'll choose to stay.
Because deep down, she wants this just as much as I do.
She just doesn't know it yet.