The days blurred together in the aftermath of Ethan's unexpected visit. Ariana's thoughts were haunted by the quiet chaos he'd left behind, the chilling reminder of how far her past could reach into her present. Even with Brandon's unyielding protection, even with the safehouse's reinforced walls, Ariana knew they weren't as safe as they seemed.
Brandon kept a tight leash on everything—every move, every breath. He didn't leave her side unless absolutely necessary. He didn't trust anyone anymore. The secure perimeter was strengthened, and surveillance intensified. Yet, with every passing day, Ariana felt the growing weight of the inevitable confrontation hanging above them.
She spent hours in the safehouse's expansive library, trying to keep her mind occupied, but it was impossible. Each time she tried to read, her mind drifted back to Ethan, to his eyes that still burned with a fire she hadn't seen in so long.
And Brandon.
Brandon was a storm she could never outrun. Every touch, every word, every dark glance only deepened the connection between them. The violence that simmered under his controlled exterior made her both drawn to him and terrified of him in equal measure.
But no matter how much she feared what he was capable of, no matter how much she knew he would do anything to protect her, there was a part of her that still hesitated to surrender fully to him. She had no idea if she could ever truly trust him with all of herself.
It wasn't just about the danger anymore. It was the power that came with Brandon. The world he lived in was one she could never truly understand—nor was she sure she wanted to. But it was too late to turn back now.
She looked out over the balcony at the mountainous expanse. The snow had started to fall again, soft white flakes settling on the ground below, masking the world in an icy shroud. The contrast between the serene, cold landscape and the violent undercurrent of her life was never lost on her.
"Are you lost in your thoughts again?"
Ariana turned to see Brandon standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light behind him. He was wearing a tailored black jacket, his hair just a little disheveled, but it only made him look more dangerous. More desirable.
"You're always watching me," she said, though there was no bite in her words. It was just the reality of her life now.
"You should get used to it," he replied, his tone dark and low, as if each word carried weight that she couldn't quite bear.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stood up and walked to him, her fingers brushing over the cool railing of the balcony. It felt like she was stepping closer to the edge, not just physically, but emotionally.
"Are we ever going to be free of him?" she asked, her voice a whisper carried away by the wind.
Brandon's gaze didn't leave her, his lips tight in a hard line. "No," he said flatly. "Not until I end it."
Her pulse quickened. "You will end it, won't you? You'll kill him?"
Brandon didn't flinch, but his eyes darkened with an intensity that made her heart race. "He's already dead. He just doesn't know it yet."
Ariana wasn't sure whether to be comforted or terrified by his words. Brandon's vengeance was something she had come to understand, but even after everything, she wasn't sure she had accepted it. There was a cruelty to him—something cold, something unrelenting—that made her stomach turn.
She reached for him then, without thinking, her hands finding the lapels of his jacket. His gaze flickered to her hands, but he didn't stop her as she tugged him closer.
Ariana didn't know what she expected. A kiss? A reprimand? Instead, Brandon's hand caught her wrist with an almost painful grip, pulling her back, but not roughly—just firmly, as if trying to ground her.
"Stay away from me," he whispered, his voice strained.
Her heart pounded. "What?"
"I told you," he growled, "You don't want to see this part of me, Ariana."
She stared up at him, her mind swimming with confusion and desire, each more tangled than the last. The way he spoke, the way he looked at her, was a storm that didn't belong in the serene beauty of the world outside the safehouse. She wanted to escape that storm, but at the same time, she couldn't resist the pull of it.
"Why do you push me away?" she demanded, her voice wavering but firm. "Why do you keep shutting me out?"
Brandon's grip on her wrist loosened just slightly, his eyes narrowing, as if struggling with something deep inside him. "Because I'll destroy you," he whispered, each word cutting through the air between them like a dagger. "I will break you into pieces, and you won't even be able to recognize yourself afterward."
Ariana's breath caught in her throat. His words hit her harder than she ever imagined. But she didn't step away. Instead, she found herself standing on the precipice, looking into the abyss of what he offered and what he warned her about.
"Then I'll be destroyed," she whispered, her voice steady despite the rawness inside her. "But it'll be my choice."
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and for a moment, they just stood there, the world around them freezing over in the silence. Then, as if he couldn't stop himself, he closed the distance between them and kissed her.
It was harsh and desperate, a clash of hunger and need, a collision of two worlds that could never truly merge. But in that kiss, Ariana felt it—the heat, the power, the fire that had always burned between them.
When they pulled apart, both of them gasping for air, Brandon's gaze remained locked on hers. "You don't know what you're asking for, Ariana," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
She didn't care. She didn't need to know. All she knew was that she had already made her choice. And there was no turning back now.