The hospital room was cold, but his hand was warm.
Kyler hadn't left my side. Not to eat. Not to sleep.
Just sat there, gripping my fingers like he was terrified I'd slip away.
The bullet wound in my side throbbed, but the pain wasn't the worst part.
It was the silence.
The heavy kind. The kind that's full of everything no one is saying.
So finally, I broke it.
"You're blaming yourself."
His jaw tightened. "Of course I am."
I touched his hand. "I made the choice. I ran. Not you."
"I'm the reason there was a bullet to begin with."
"But also the reason I survived it."
He looked at me then.
And the way he looked at me…
Like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
The next day, the doctors said I'd recover fully, but slowly.
Kyler made a call.
We weren't going back to the estate.
He had a safer place. A hidden place.
Just for us.
The house was on a hill, surrounded by trees and silence.
A safe house, he called it.
But to me, it felt like something else.
A beginning.
For the first time, it was just us.
No guns. No guards. No Zane.
Just me. And him. And the space between us.
That night, as I lay on the couch watching the fire flicker, he knelt beside me.
His fingers brushed my cheek. So gentle. So scared.
"I've killed people," he said suddenly. "I've tortured them. I've taken things I can't ever give back."
"I know."
"And you still love me?"
I looked into his broken, beautiful eyes.
"I don't love the blood, Kyler. I love the man who holds mine like it's precious."
He kissed me then.
And this time, it wasn't fierce or desperate.
It was soft.
Almost like he thought I'd disappear if he pressed too hard.
Later, I fell asleep in his arms again, bandaged and safe.
And when I woke up, I found a note on the nightstand.
"One day, I'll give you a life where you never have to run again. — K."
And I knew, right then—
Even if he never found peace,
I already had.