Back at the penthouse, everything was too quiet.
The elevators opened to the warm glow of the living room, but the silence pressed on Aveline like another weight she wasn't prepared to carry. They didn't speak. Both disappeared into the bathroom, washing off the smoke, the dust, the fear clinging to their skin.
By the time Aveline changed and stepped out, Alaric was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He simply lifted the duvet, silently commanding her to go to him.
Aveline didn't hesitate. She moved into his arms, letting his warmth wrap around her. The duvet cocooned them, sealing them away from everything outside.
She could feel his heartbeat. It steadied something inside her, but it did not stop the fear.
What if he thought she was lying?
What if he thought her mad?
What if this brought distance between them?
The questions crowded at the edge of her mind. She had rehearsed confessions in her head for months, yet the fear gripped her throat.
