The weight of Léonie's sacrifice, the unbearable truth of her best friend caught in the crossfire of their reckless love, settled heavily on Maëlys's soul. The raw honesty of Eliott's confession, though agonizing, forged a new, fragile bond between them. It wasn't about sex or possession now; it was about shared grief, about surviving a storm that had destroyed so much.
They spent the rest of the day in a quiet, heavy intimacy. Eliott didn't push, didn't demand. He simply existed beside her, a steady, comforting presence as Maëlys grappled with the fragmented memories that continued to surface, each piece of the puzzle deepening the wound, yet also clarifying the terrifying beauty of their past.
As night fell, and the moon cast long shadows through the loft window, Maëlys found herself reaching for him. Not for passion, but for the visceral reassurance of his warmth, his strength. She needed him as an anchor against the rising tide of her awakened past. He pulled her close, wrapping his strong arms around her, a protective shield against the darkness.
"Tell me everything," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. "From the beginning. The parts the letters didn't cover. The parts you couldn't write."
Eliott hesitated, his body tensing against hers. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken pain. Then, he began to speak, his voice a low, gravelly confession in the darkness. He spoke of growing up in the shadow of Liam, the older brother, charismatic and charming, but plagued by a volatile temper and a deep-seated insecurity. He spoke of their parents' strained relationship, the unspoken favoritism towards Liam, and Eliott's own rebellious nature, finding solace in art and the freedom of the road.
"And then you came along," he murmured, his voice softening, a tender ache in his tone. "A whirlwind. You saw right through Liam's charm, saw past his darkness. But you saw mine too. And you weren't afraid." He described their first meeting, a chance encounter in a dimly lit bar, the instant, undeniable spark that ignited between them, a recognition of kindred spirits drawn to the dangerous edge.
He spoke of the stolen moments, the clandestine meetings, the electric tension that simmered beneath the surface of their lives, always a risk of exposure. He described the addictive nature of their connection, the way they pushed each other, challenging boundaries, thriving on the illicit thrill. "We were both a little broken, Maëlys," he confessed, his hand stroking her hair. "And we found solace in each other's chaos. It was never calm. Never easy. But it was always... everything."
Then, his voice grew darker as he recounted Liam's descent. The increasing paranoia, the possessive grip on Léonie, the escalating confrontations with Eliott. Liam's jealousy of Maëlys and Eliott's bond became a consuming obsession, fueling his erratic behavior. He described the night of the crash, not just the physical events, but the emotional maelstrom leading up to it. Liam's final, desperate attempt to reclaim his life, to force Maëlys into a choice that would inevitably destroy someone.
"He found out about the tattoo," Eliott whispered, his voice thick with self-reproach. "The little flame. He saw it when you two were... at the beach. He knew. And that was the final spark." His arms tightened around her, a desperate, possessive embrace. "He was coming to make you choose. To make you pay."
Maëlys listened, her body tense, absorbing every agonizing detail. The narrative filled the terrifying blanks in her mind, painting a vivid picture of the destructive path their love had taken. It was raw, unflinching, stripping away any lingering illusions of innocence. Eliott confessed his guilt, not just for his choice to let her forget, but for his part in the dangerous game that had cost Léonie her life and Liam his. He bore the weight of it all, a silent martyr to a love too wild to control. And as the dark truth settled in the quiet of the loft, Maëlys realized that her monster was also her salvation, and their love, a twisted knot of pain and fierce devotion, was irrevocably, dangerously, and beautifully theirs.