Raina's POV
The panic room closes like a held breath.
Not loud.
Not violent.
Just final.
The steel seals, the lights dim to a softer white, and the air adjusts itself as if nothing has happened.....as if the world outside hasn't just tilted again.
I stand exactly where Ethan left me.
My hands are shaking so badly I have to curl them into fists to keep them still.
He didn't look back.
That's the part that hurts the most.
Not the alarm.
Not the breach.
Not the men he went to face without a weapon in his hands.
It's the way he turned away from me like if he stayed one second longer, something in him would break.
Or worse...
something in me would.
I slide down the wall slowly until I'm sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. The room smells faintly of recycled air and something warm....his cologne still clinging to my skin from when he touched my face earlier.
Black rose.
I hate that I know that now.
I hate that my body reacts to him before my mind does.
I hate that my pulse still remembers the kiss even while my brain is screaming danger.
My heart doesn't know how to live in the same room as fear.
I press my forehead against my knees and breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
You're a psychiatrist, Raina.
Get it together.
But that's the cruelest joke of all...knowing how the mind works doesn't save you from your own. I know that this is just a chemical reaction or it is not. No,
If anything, it makes you more aware of how badly you're unraveling.
Bits and pieces keep surfacing, uninvited.
Kabir's laugh in college corridors.
Ethan watching us from a distance, always polite, always controlled.
The way Kabir used to glance over his shoulder before answering phone calls.
The way Ethan went still when I said the word Da.
Men don't go still like that unless the ground beneath them has a name.
I rub my arms, suddenly cold.
Kabir loved me in a way that felt like possession disguised as devotion. I didn't understand it then. I thought intensity meant safety. I thought jealousy meant care.
I didn't know I was being guarded like an object.
Protected like a liability.
The necklace was never a gift.
It was a tag.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the realization settles deeper.
I wasn't chosen because I was special.
I was chosen because I was useful.
And somehow....
Ethan knew.
Maybe not at first.
But somewhere along the way, he knew.
And he stayed anyway.
That realization twists something painful and tender inside my chest.
Why?
Why would a man walk into fire for a woman tied to this much blood and silence?
Unless…
Unless he's been burning since long before I noticed.
My breath stutters.
The kiss flashes again...
unwanted, undeniable.
The way his hand held my waist like he was grounding himself.
The way his breath hitched when our mouths touched.
That wasn't strategy.
That was hunger restrained by fear.
I press my palm flat against the floor, steadying myself as another truth presses in:
Ethan isn't afraid of the mafia.
He's afraid of what he'll become for me.
The panic room hums softly, systems
adjusting, sensors tracking. It's designed to make you feel safe.
Instead, it feels like a confession booth.
I think of the way he said, "Stop fearing the wrong man."
My throat tightens.
Because I know what he meant now.
He wasn't warning me about the Russians.
Or the Italians.
Or the men at the gate.
He was warning me about him.
About what happens when a man who has spent his entire life controlling himself finally chooses.
I push myself to my feet and pace the small space, my bare feet silent against the smooth floor.
I've spent years teaching people how to sit with their fear.
Now fear is sitting with me, legs crossed, staring me down.
What does Ethan owe that man?
What did he promise when he was young and reckless and loyal to the wrong people?
And why does it feel like I'm the payment?
The thought makes my stomach twist violently.
"No," I whisper aloud.Teats burning my eyes
"No, he wouldn't." i kept on repeating
But the truth is...I don't actually know that.
I know Ethan the protector.
Ethan the silent watcher.
Ethan the man who didn't touch me for years even when he wanted to.
But I don't know Ethan, the heir.
The man who walks out into the dark without a weapon because he knows the dark answers to him.
That version scares me.
And...God help me...
it draws me in.
Time stretches strangely in the panic room.
Minutes feel like hours.
Then the door slides open again.
I flinch before I can stop myself.
Ethan steps inside.
He looks the same....but different.
Not shaken.
Not injured.
Just… resolved.
Like a man who has crossed an invisible line and isn't looking back.
His eyes find mine instantly, scanning me for damage the way you'd inspect something precious after a near miss.
I hate how that makes me feel.
"I'm okay," I say quickly, before he can ask.
He nods once.
"I know."
Of course he does.
Silence settles between us again—thick, layered, alive.
Finally, I speak the question that's been clawing at my throat.
"What did you choose?"
He looks at me sharply.
"You heard that?"
"I felt it," I say quietly. "Whatever you decided out there… it changed something."
His jaw tightens.
"Yes."
"What did it cost you?" I ask.
For the first time, he looks away.
That's answer enough.
I take a step toward him without thinking.
Then another.
"Ethan," I say, softer now, "if I'm the reason you're doing this.."
"You're not the reason," he cuts in.
"You're the line."
The words hit hard.
"The line between what?" I whisper.
He meets my gaze again, eyes dark, unflinching.
"Between the man I was pretending to be… and the man the world insists I am."
My chest tightens painfully.
"And what am I in that equation?" I ask.
His voice drops.
"You're the one thing I refuse to turn into collateral."
Something inside me breaks open at that.
Anger.
Fear.
Gratitude.
Love.
All tangled and dangerous.
"That's not fair," I whisper.
"I know," he says. "Nothing about this is."
I'm close enough now to feel the heat of him, the steady strength of his presence.
I want to touch him.
I want to step back.
Both instincts collide inside me.
"You don't get to decide my fate alone," I say, my voice shaking but firm.
"I know," he replies.
"That's why I'm still standing here talking instead of locking you away."
I swallow hard.
"That's a low bar," I murmur.
A ghost of a smile flickers across his mouth...gone almost instantly.
"Raina," he says, quieter than before, "this world doesn't give clean choices. It gives timing. And tonight… the timing chose me."
I search his face, trying to read what he isn't saying.
And then I realize something terrifying:
He's not asking for my permission.
He's asking for my understanding.
And I don't know if I have enough strength left to give it.
My voice comes out raw.
"If this ends with you becoming someone I don't recognize…"
He steps closer.
"So will I," he says simply.
That honesty hurts worse than lies ever could.
I nod slowly, because I don't know what else to do.
Because despite everything...
I trust him.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
The lights flicker again..just once.
Not an alarm.
A reminder.
The world hasn't stopped moving just because we're standing still.
Ethan turns slightly, already shifting back into the man who walks into shadows.
"Get some rest," he says gently. "Tomorrow won't be quiet."
I watch him leave again, my heart lodged painfully in my throat.
As the door seals, one final thought settles into place with terrifying clarity:
I didn't escape one man's world.
I walked straight into another's.
And this time…
I'm not sure there's a way out.