56

56
Alaric’s POV
The moment Emilia stormed into my study, I knew we were in for it. Her face was flushed, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else-something that made me grip the edge of the desk a little harder. I’d just finished speaking with Allesio, trying to piece together the intel she’d risked her life for. I was barely holding onto my temper as it was.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I snapped before she could even open her mouth.
“What was I thinking?” she retorted, slamming the door shut behind her. “I was thinking that someone needed to actually do something, since you’ve been too busy hiding behind your walls to make any real moves!”
“Hiding?” I pushed myself away from the desk, stalking closer to her. “You have no idea what I’ve been doing. You think I’m just sitting here, doing nothing? I’ve been working around the clock trying to keep you and Francesca safe.”
“Then why don’t I feel safe, Alaric?” Her voice cracked, just slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Why does it feel like every move you make pushes us further into danger?”
“That’s not fair,” I shot back, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. “I’m doing everything I can.”
“You’re keeping me in the dark!” she yelled, stepping closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re making decisions without me, locking me out when this involves my life too. Francesca’s life.”
“You don’t understand-”
“Then make me understand!” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “I’m tired of feeling like a spectator in my own damn life. You can’t just shut me out, Alaric. Not when it comes to Francesca.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected, cutting through my anger like a blade. I turned away from her, running a hand through my hair as I tried to calm myself down. But the rage was still there, bubbling just beneath the surface.
“You were reckless, Emilia,” I said, my voice low but edged with steel. “You could have been hurt-or worse. Do you know what would happen if I lost you? If Francesca lost you?”
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “Oh, please. You’d replace me in a heartbeat.”
“That’s not true.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, more honest than I intended. I swallowed hard, trying to regain control of the situation. “You don’t get it. I can’t afford to lose you.”
She shook her head, looking at me like I was missing the most obvious point. “And I can’t afford to lose her.”
Something inside me cracked at the vulnerability in her voice. I watched as she sank onto the edge of the sofa, burying her face in her hands. It was like watching the fight drain out of her all at once, leaving only exhaustion and fear.
“I’m scared, Alaric,” she admitted, her voice muffled. “I’m scared every single day. I look at Francesca, and I can’t breathe because I’m terrified something will happen to her. And it’s not getting better. It’s getting worse.”
I stared at her, my own anger dissolving in the face of her raw honesty. I’d never seen her like this before-so open, so unguarded. It made me realize how little I’d been paying attention to what this was doing to her. I’d been so focused on keeping control, on managing the threats, that I hadn’t stopped to consider what it was costing her.
Slowly, I moved to sit beside her. She didn’t look up, but I could see the way her shoulders were shaking, like she was holding back tears. I reached out, hesitated, then let my hand rest on her back.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. It wasn’t something I said often, but I meant it. “I’ve been trying to protect you both. But I see now that I’ve only made you feel more alone.”
She lifted her head, her eyes glistening. “I don’t want to feel alone, Alaric. I need you to let me in. To trust me enough to let me help.”
I sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Emilia. It’s that I don’t trust myself not to lose control if something happens to you. I can handle threats against me-I’ve done it my entire life. But when it’s you or Francesca…”
My voice trailed off, and I realized I was opening up in a way I hadn’t intended to. I’d spent so long building walls, keeping everything locked down tight, and now here I was, pulling the curtains back.
“It’s different,” I finished lamely. “It’s personal.”
She was quiet for a moment, as if she was absorbing my words, weighing them. Then she took a deep breath and placed her hand over mine.
“It’s personal for me too,” she whispered. “I know you want to protect us, but you can’t do it alone. And I can’t keep being a bystander, watching from the sidelines, waiting for the next disaster to strike.”
I squeezed her hand, feeling the tension slowly ebb away. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I thought I was shielding you, but I was only pushing you further away.”
A faint, humorless smile tugged at her lips. “You have a talent for that.”
I huffed a laugh, surprised by it. “I suppose I do.”
She looked down, tracing patterns on the back of my hand with her thumb. “I was terrified when I snuck out tonight. I knew it was stupid, but I needed to do something, anything, to feel like I had some control. I hate feeling like I’m powerless to protect her.”
I reached up and gently turned her face toward mine. “You’re not powerless, Emilia. And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Her eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, there was no distance between us. No walls, no barriers-just the two of us, facing the same storm.
“What now?” she asked, her voice small but steady.
“Now,” I said, lacing my fingers with hers, “we do this together. No more secrets. No more shutting each other out.”
She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb, lingering on the softness of her skin. “Okay,” she whispered. “Together.”
We stayed like that for a long time, sitting in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Finally, she pulled back, brushing the last of her tears away. “You know I’m still mad at you, right?”
I smirked. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
She laughed-a real laugh this time, light and genuine. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it warmed something deep inside me.
“You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head. But there was no real heat in her words. Just a familiar exasperation that felt almost like affection.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But you’re stuck with me.”
Her expression softened, and she squeezed my hand. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess I am.”
It wasn’t a grand declaration or a sweeping romantic gesture. It was something quieter, something real. And as I looked at her, at the woman who was fierce enough to defy me and brave enough to admit her fears, I felt something shift between us.
It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there-a crack in the armor I’d built around myself. A crack I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to seal again. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Come on,” I said, standing up and pulling her with me. “We’ve got work to do.”
She raised an eyebrow. “We?”
I smirked, pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yes, we,” I said. “You wanted in, Emilia. Now you’re in.”
Her smile was small but genuine, and she nodded. “Good,” she said, lacing her fingers through mine once more. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”