Elias hadn't opened the shop in two days.
He didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't even peek through the windows. His phone buzzed with unread messages from her—short ones, then longer ones, then finally just one word.
"Elias."
But still, silence.
Selena sat in her car parked a block away, watching the closed shutters and the dim interior. She knew fear when she saw it. And for the first time, she hated that she was the cause of it.
She stepped out, trench coat trailing behind her, heels silent against the pavement. The street was too quiet for this part of the city. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as she reached the back door.
Unlocked. He hadn't even remembered to lock it.
She stepped inside.
He was in the back, surrounded by buckets of wilting flowers. He turned at the sound of the door, going pale the moment he saw her.
Selena closed the door behind her. Slowly.
He backed up a step. "Selena…"
"You've been avoiding me," she said softly.
Elias looked down. "I didn't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything yet."
She walked toward him, measured, but not aggressive. Not yet. Still, he stepped back—until his back hit the wall behind him.
Selena didn't stop.
She stopped when she was close enough that the air between them trembled.
He opened his mouth, but she raised a gloved hand and pressed it gently over his heart.
"Do you think I don't know what fear looks like?" she whispered.
Elias's voice cracked. "They said they'd come after my family."
"I know." Her hand stayed there, over his chest. "And that's why I'm here."
"Selena—"
She moved closer. The air thickened. Her hand slipped down, and with a single, sudden motion, she pinned him.
One palm flat against the wall beside his head. The other gently but firmly held his jaw, forcing him to look at her.
"Look at me, Elias."
His breath hitched.
She wasn't dressed for intimidation—just a turtleneck, coat half-open—but there was something dangerous and beautiful in the way she looked at him. Crimson eyes soft but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk.
"I'm not used to this," she whispered. "To any of this. You're the only thing in my world that doesn't ask for something in return. And I don't want to lose that because you're scared of what I am."
He swallowed hard. "But you are… everything they say you are, aren't you?"
Selena didn't deny it. "Yes. I've killed. I've lied. I've built an empire from nothing but blood and loyalty."
Her hand moved to his cheek.
"But when I see you—when I'm with you—none of that matters."
The silence between them stretched thin, fragile as a petal on the verge of crumbling.
"I didn't want to fall for you," she said. "But I did. And now I'd tear down the world to protect you."
Elias stared at her.
His heart told him to believe her. His instincts told him to run. And somewhere in between, he realized something else:
He didn't want her to leave.
"I don't know how to live in your world," he whispered.
Selena leaned in, her forehead nearly brushing his.
"Then don't," she said. "Let me be the one who lives in yours. I'll keep the darkness outside your door. You never have to see it."
A single tear slid down his cheek. Not from sadness. From the ache of everything he couldn't say.
"They said they'd hurt my mother. My sister. I can't… I can't let that happen."
Selena's voice turned to steel.
"They won't lay a finger on them. Or you. I swear it."
He let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to feel."
"You don't have to know. Just… stay."
And then, because the space between them had vanished, and because she needed him to feel it—not just hear it—Selena leaned in.
She didn't kiss him. Just pressed her lips softly to the corner of his mouth, lingering there like a promise.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said.
And for the first time since the threats started, Elias didn't feel alone.
He felt claimed.