62

62
Emilia’s POV
The mansion was quiet now. The kind of silence that only comes after chaos, when everything finally settles and the dust starts to fall. I leaned against the cold marble pillar in the hallway, trying to catch my breath, not just physically but emotionally. The events of the past few days had left me raw, exposed. For the first time, I’d seen Alaric look genuinely vulnerable.
The door to Alaric’s study was slightly open, the dim light spilling out into the dark corridor. I could hear the faint clink of glass-he was drinking, probably whiskey. I knew I should leave him alone, give him the space he clearly needed, but something pulled me towards that door. Maybe it was the part of me that couldn’t stand the thought of him hurting alone.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. He didn’t look up immediately, just kept his eyes trained on the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it. The room smelled like leather, smoke, and the faint trace of Alaric’s cologne. I closed the door softly behind me and leaned against it, unsure of how to start.
“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. “You said you were going to spend a few days at Matteo’s place.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, taking a deep breath. “I was going to. But then I realized I didn’t want to. Not now anyways.”
He glanced up at me then, his gaze sharp and assessing. It was like he was searching for something in my expression, some hint of what I was feeling, and I wasn’t sure if he found it or not. He looked away again, taking a slow sip of his drink. “You should have. It’s not your problem anymore.”
I scoffed, stepping further into the room. “That’s the problem, Alaric. You keep acting like I’m an outsider, like I’m not in this with you.”
His jaw clenched, and he set the glass down on the desk with more force than necessary. “Because I don’t want you to be,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with frustration. “I don’t want you tangled up in this mess. You deserve better.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but not for the reasons he probably intended. I could feel the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let him see me cry. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “You don’t get to push me away just because you’re scared.”
He turned away, staring out the window at the darkened garden beyond. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and I thought maybe he was going to shut me out again. But then he let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly. “I am scared.”
That stopped me in my tracks. Alaric, admitting fear? It felt like the ground had shifted beneath me. I moved closer, my heart pounding. “Scared of what?” I asked softly, trying to meet his eyes.
He finally looked at me, and the expression on his face was like nothing I’d ever seen before-utterly raw, unguarded. It made my chest ache. “Of needing you,” he said simply. “Of relying on you. Because if I let myself lean on you, and then I lose you…”
He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between us. I swallowed hard, taking a step closer. “You won’t lose me,” I whispered, wishing I could make him believe it. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”
He stared at me, and for the first time, I felt like he was really seeing me. Not just as an ally, not just as someone who happened to be by his side, but as a person-someone he might actually care about. He ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said, almost to himself. “I’ve been in control for so long, and now…”
“And now you’re not,” I finished for him. “It’s okay to admit that, Alaric. It doesn’t make you weak.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t it? In my world, weakness is a death sentence.”
I took another step closer, until I was right in front of him. I reached out, hesitating for just a moment before I rested my hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. “You’re not weak,” I said firmly. “You’ve built something incredible here. You’ve protected so many people. But you can’t do it alone forever.”
He looked down at my hand, then back up at me, his expression softening in a way that made my heart twist painfully in my chest. “You’ve stood by me through everything,” he said quietly. “Even when you had every reason to walk away. Why?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. This was it-the moment I’d been avoiding, the truth I’d been too afraid to admit, even to myself. But I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Because I care about you,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I care about you more than I should.”
His eyes darkened, something shifting in his expression. He reached up, his hand covering mine on his chest. “You shouldn’t,” he said, his voice rough. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”
I shook my head, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Maybe I do. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”
He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said again, softer this time. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”
My breath hitched, and I nodded, unable to find the words. I didn’t need them. Not right now. It was enough that he was willing to try-that he was willing to admit he needed me.
I pulled my hand away, stepping back slightly to put some distance between us. It wasn’t because I wanted to, but because I needed a moment to breathe, to process everything. “We still have a lot to figure out,” I said quietly. “This doesn’t solve everything.”
“I know,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something like relief. “But it’s a start.”
I managed a small smile. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s a start.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a flicker of hope in my chest. It was small, fragile, but it was there. And that was more than I’d had in a long time.
I turned to leave, pausing in the doorway to look back at him one last time. He was watching me, his expression unreadable but softer than I’d ever seen it. “Goodnight, Alaric,” I said.
“Goodnight, Emilia,” he replied, his voice warm in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I let out a shaky breath. My heart was pounding, but for the first time, it wasn’t just from fear or adrenaline. It was something else entirely. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope.