Love was never supposed to feel like this.
It wasn’t supposed to be raw, jagged, a blade slicing through the parts of me I thought were untouchable. It wasn’t supposed to claw its way inside my ribs, leaving gaping wounds in its wake.
But it did.
And I let it.
I had let Judas in-unknowingly, recklessly, irreversibly.
It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just the way his lips felt against mine, the way his hands claimed me, rough and relentless. No, this was something else. Something dark and all-consuming. Something I couldn’t escape, even if I tried.
Because the truth was-I loved him.
Not in the soft, tender way love was meant to be. Not in a way that was pure, untouched by ruin. My love for him was twisted, aching. It was the kind of love that made you bleed, the kind that whispered destruction into your soul and dared you to crave it.
And I did.
God help me, I did.
My breath came unsteady as I looked at Rara. She was watching me, eyes soft yet knowing, like she had already read the confession in my silence. Like she had expected it all along.
“Falling in love isn’t a crime,” she quietly let the words ink into my head. “But hiding it? Denying it? That’s where the real sin lies.”
I swallowed feeling my throat tighten. “What if it’s not the kind of love I should want?”
“Then it’s the kind of love that was always meant to be yours.”
Her words cut deep as if she’d been in my position.
Because deep down, I knew she was right.
My hands clenched against my thighs as a sob pushed its way up my throat. The weight of it all crashed into me-the longing, the ache, the unbearable pull toward a man who made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.
And the worst part?
I would fall. I already had.
Tears burned my eyes as I whispered, “He hides things from me, Rara. He keeps me in the dark, pushes me away, and I don’t know what to do. How do I love someone who won’t let me in?”
Rara was silent for a long moment. Then she reached out, cupping my cheek in a way that made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this. Like maybe, just maybe, she had once asked herself the same question.
“Love isn’t about knowing everything, Sera,” she murmured. “It’s about choosing to stay, even when the answers don’t come easy. Even when it terrifies you.”
“But what if he never lets me in?” My voice broke.
“Then make him.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding.
“Make him see you,” she continued. “Make him feel what you feel. Make him understand that pushing you away won’t erase what’s already there.”
A fire sparked inside me.
Because she was right.
I had spent so long waiting for Judas to open the door, but maybe it was time I stopped waiting. Maybe it was time I kicked it down myself.
Without another word, I stood up.
Rara didn’t stop me. She only watched, her eyes filled with something like pride. Like she knew what I was about to do before I even did it.
I walked back to my room, my hands trembling as I pushed the door open.
I sat down on the bed, my heart hammering.
And then I waited.
For him.
For answers.
For the truth I was ready to rip out of him with my bare hands if I had to.
I fidgeted with my hands, nails biting into my palm as I sat on the edge of the bed.
He said he’d come.
I kept replaying that promise in my head, clinging to it like a lifeline. He said he’d come. But time stretched thin, seconds morphing into minutes, minutes into something heavier.
I shouldn’t be this restless. I shouldn’t feel like my lungs were caving in from the weight of anticipation. But I did.
Because this wasn’t just about seeing him. It wasn’t just about touching him.
This was about answers.
The air felt thick, charged, suffocating. My thoughts tangled in a vicious loop-what if he doesn’t come? What if he does, and I lose my nerve? What if I open my mouth, and he silences me with those hands, that mouth, that goddamn presence of his that always leaves me breathless and forgetting why I was ever angry in the first place?
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. No. Not this time.
And then-
The door creaked open.
My pulse skidded to a halt before slamming against my ribs.
He came.
And he looked exactly as I left him.
Dark hair, tousled like he’d raked his fingers through it one too many times. The sharp angles of his face carved from shadows and secrets. That dangerous, brooding look in his pale eyes-the kind that made my stomach clench in the worst, most addictive way.
Black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins flexing against his forearms. His shoulders broad, the muscles in his jaw taut.
But it was his eyes that held me captive.
Stormy. Dark. A quiet kind of fury brewing beneath the surface, like he already knew what was coming. Like he knew I wasn’t just waiting for him-I was waiting to tear him apart.
And I knew he saw the storm in me.
Because the next moment, he was moving.
A slow, measured stride that made the room shrink, made the air crackle with something raw and electric. My body tensed, my breath a shallow thing in my throat.
Then he was there, standing before me, looking down at me with those dark, knowing eyes.
And before I could think, before I could even blink-
His mouth was on mine.
Hard. Demanding.
A kiss that tasted like possession, like punishment. Like he knew I had questions, and he was trying to silence them with his lips, his tongue, the way his fingers curled around my jaw, tilting my head back so he could take more, consume more.
I gasped against him, my hands clutching at his shirt, but he didn’t stop.
Didn’t let me breathe. Didn’t let me think.
Then-
He pulled away. Just enough to make me ache, just enough to make me chase after the heat he stole from me.
His thumb brushed my bottom lip, eyes locked onto mine, and then-
“What’s wrong, ptichka?”
As if he didn’t know.
As if he hadn’t just taken everything-my breath, my will, my sanity-and left me trembling in the ruins of my own restraint.
I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Nothing,” I lied, but the word came out too soft, too unconvincing.
His smirk was a ghost of cruelty, his thumb pressing just enough against my lip to make me shiver. “Liar.”
The heat of his breath kissed my skin before his mouth did. Another slow descent. Another devastating claim.
And I let him.
Because I hated him.
Because I needed him.
Because I didn’t know where I ended and he began anymore.
Slowly, making sure my actions wouldn’t make him pull away, I grip his biceps that barely fit in my hold and looked at him with the tenders look in my eyes. It took me a while to open my mouth, cause this proximity was making me lose my mind.
“If I tell you, will you listen to me?”
His gaze burned into mine and his lips curled in a slow, sinful smirk.
“I’ll listen,” he murmured, tilting his head and I was hyper aware that his lips were just a breath away from mine. His fingers traced the curve of my spine, making my breath hitch. “If your words cut, I’ll make you kiss them better.” His smirk deepened as he leaned in, his nose brushing mine.
I let him. And took a deep breath, not to be distracted by the way he was making me feel butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was the same man who chased me down the basement with a knife.
“Then tell me where my father is.” His smirk faded and I my heart lunged at the way his eyes narrowed. I saw it-the shift.
No.
Not this time.
Before he could pull away, before he could lock himself behind his walls, I cupped his cheeks with trembling hands and pulled him closer. My fingertips dug into his skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold him to me. My eyes watered.
“Don’t,” I whispered into the infinity between us. “Don’t disappear on me, please Judas.”
His jaw clenched beneath my touch and the muscles tightened, but he didn’t move away.
“I know you think I can’t handle the truth,” I continued, my thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his face, memorizing the way it felt under my touch. “And maybe I can’t.” My breath hitched, but I held on, refusing to let go. “But I’d rather break under the gravity of it than be kept in the dark.”
His lashes lowered, his hands hovering at my waist like he was debating whether to hold me or push me away.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep going.
“I don’t want pretty lies. I don’t want half-truths. I want you-the real you. Even if it ruins me.” My voice wavered, but I didn’t let it stop me. “So please… just tell me.”