Emilia's POV

She was trying to shut down. To go cold. To act like none of this mattered.

Like I didn't matter. And I was done letting her get away with that.

I reached for her wrist, gripping it just enough to make her face me completely.

"Look at me, damn it." She did. And for the first time, she wasn't hiding. She was angry. Frustrated. Trapped.

"Did it mean nothing to you?" My voice shook. "Everything we went through? Everything we could have-" I stopped myself, swallowing hard. "You should have held me through my anger."

She let out a sharp breath, her control slipping. Then she grabbed my wrist-flipping our positions, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

Her grip was tight. Heated.

"You want the truth?" Her voice was low, rough, dangerous. "The truth is, I should have walked away the first damn time I met you."

I flinched-but I didn't back down. I stared at her, my chest rising and falling too fast, my skin burning under her touch. Valeria's voice breaks slightly. "Because this? You and me? It was never supposed to happen"

"Liar." I shook my head. Her jaw clenched. She hated that I saw through her. I stepped closer-so close that I could feel her breath, that I could see the battle waging inside her.

"Tell me you don't want me," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "And I'll walk out that door."

She didn't say it. She couldn't.

"Say it, Valeria," I pressed, my hands moving slowly-testing her, pushing her. My fingers trailed up her arm, barely touching her skin, soft and deliberate.

"Tell me you feel nothing when I touch you."

She was unraveling. I could see it-the way her breath came out too sharp, the way her jaw clenched like she was physically trying to hold herself together.

But I wasn't going to let her. I was done letting her pretend.

"Tell me you don't want me," I murmured, stepping even closer. "And I'll walk out that door."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her pulse flickering against the hollow of her throat. But she still said nothing.

I had her. I could feel it-the war inside her, the one she was so desperate to win. But I wasn't going to let her. I wasn't going to let her shove this down, shove me down, like I was something she could erase.

I let my fingers brush up the inside of her arm, barely touching-a ghost of a touch, a whisper against her skin. Her muscles tensed, but she still didn't pull away.

"Tell me," I pushed, my voice soft but insistent. "Tell me you feel nothing when I touch you like this."

Still, silence. I dragged my fingers lower.

Over the ink staining her skin, the tattoos that stretched over her arm, curling around muscle, disappearing beneath the fabric of her shirt. My touch was barely there, just the tips of my fingers trailing downward.

She let out a breath-shaky, uneven.I smirked.

"What about here, Val?" I whispered, my hand moving lower, just enough to push the edge of the fabric up, enough to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Valeria's hands twitched, like she wanted to grab me, push me away, pull me closer. I kept going.

My palm slid lower, teasing, testing. Over the sharp lines of her hips, tracing over the tattoos I had never gotten the chance to see. "Not even when I touch you here?"

She let out a quiet curse under her breath. Her head tilted slightly back, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second.

A second too long. A second that told me everything.

I exhaled sharply, tilting my head as I watched her struggle. She was trying so hard to keep herself in check, to act like none of this mattered.

Like she wasn't feeling exactly what I was feeling. But her body had already betrayed her.

Her skin was too warm. Her breath was too unsteady. Her fingers were twitching at her sides like she was fighting every urge she had.

I wasn't done. I pressed closer, until there was barely space between us, until I could feel the heat of her body against mine.

Her breathing hitched, and I could see it-the slip, the way she was losing this battle. I dragged my nails softly, barely there, over her hipbone, over the sensitive skin just below her ribs.

Valeria sucked in a sharp breath. And finally, finally, she reacted. Her hands moved-fast, desperate.

Her fingers wrapped around my wrists, tight, hot, like she was trying to stop me-like she was about to break.

Her breathing was erratic now.

And when her eyes finally snapped open-they were dark, burning, desperate.

"Enough," she whispered. But it wasn't a command.

It was a plea. Valeria's POV

I shook my head, swallowing hard, but I had nothing left to fight with.

Nothing but the sharp edges of my own regret, the weight of my own choices, the way she was still standing here-after everything-touching me like I was something worth holding onto.

"Valeria." Her voice was steady, but her eyes-they were pleading.

"Talk to me," she murmured, her fingers soft against my skin, against my throat, against the scars I had never let anyone get close enough to see.

How could I tell her that I had spent every moment since she told me to leave trying to kill the part of me that still needed her? That I had failed? That I was failing right now? Her hand slid down, slow, deliberate, grounding.

Testing. Waiting. Like she knew I was about to run, like she was daring me to. But I didn't move. I let her touch me.

Her palm rested against my hip now, over the ink that covered my skin, her fingertips pressing lightly into muscle.

"You don't mean it," she whispered. "When you say I should go. When you say you should have walked away."

I clenched my jaw, staring down at her, at the way she was looking at me-unshaken, unafraid.

She pressed a little harder, just enough to feel the tension in my body, to know that I wasn't unaffected.

"Tell me I don't get to you," she dared, her voice silk and fire all at once. I sucked in a breath, but it was sharp. Unsteady.

"Emilia." My voice came out rough, warning.

She didn't stop. Her fingers traced over the hem of my shirt, barely touching, barely there, but enough to unravel me.

"Still nothing?" she whispered, her breath grazing my skin, her lips inches from my jaw. I exhaled sharply, gripping her wrists tighter, trying to steady myself.

Her hands slid higher, fingers trailing over the scars on my ribs, touching me like she wanted to memorize every inch of me.

"Tell me this doesn't make you feel as good as it make me feel," she murmured, her voice dangerously soft, dangerously close.

I flinched. Not from the touch. From how much I wanted it. From how much I had missed this. I should have pulled away. I should have ended this.

Instead, I let her fingers slide over my skin, slow, deliberate, setting my entire body on fire. I let my grip on her wrists loosen.

Fast. Desperate. My hands were on her waist, pulling her against me before I even realized I had done it. Her breath hitched, her hands splaying over my chest now, gripping the fabric of my shirt like she needed something to hold onto.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

All I knew was that I needed her closer.

I stared at her, my breathing ragged, my fingers digging into her hips, keeping her in place, making sure she wasn't going anywhere.

"Damn you," I rasped, my voice thick with everything I was trying to suppress.

My hands were still wrapped around her wrists, tight, burning, but I wasn't stopping her. I wasn't stopping her because I couldn't. Because for the first time, I was letting myself feel.

And it was too much. Everything I had shoved down, everything I had forced myself to forget, came crashing back in one overwhelming, suffocating wave.

I could still hear her voice from that night-the night she told me to leave.

Get out.

She had looked at me like she hated me. Like I had finally become exactly what she feared. I had told myself I deserved it. I had told myself I wouldn't let it hurt.

But now, with her standing in front of me, touching me, pushing me, forcing me to face what I had been running from, I realized how much of a fucking lie that was.

It had hurt. It had destroyed me. And she had no idea.

"Say it, Valeria," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Tell me this means nothing."

I wanted to. I wanted to tell her what she needed to hear so she would let me go.

But I was a fucking coward. And I had no strength left to lie. I let out a shaky breath, my grip on her loosening.

Her fingers were still on me, her warmth burning through my skin, through my bones. And for the first time in a long, long time-I let myself feel it. The anger. The heartbreak. The devastation of being told to walk away. I clenched my jaw, blinking hard, trying to push it all back, trying to breathe through it.

But then her hand moved again, softer this time. It wasn't teasing anymore. It wasn't a game. It was real.

Her fingers traced slow, gentle lines over my ribs, my skin hypersensitive under her touch. And something inside me broke. I exhaled, too sharp, too unsteady.

And then I felt it.

The burn in my throat. The tightness in my chest.

No. Not this. Not here.

I turned my face away sharply, but it was too late.

Emilia stilled.

I felt her fingers twitch against my skin, her breath catch, as if she had just noticed.

And when I dared to look at her, I knew she had. Because she was staring at me-staring at my face, my eyes.

Like she was seeing me for the first time.

Her lips parted slightly, her brows furrowing. "Valeria..."

Her voice was softer now, softer than I could handle. I turned away again, blinking rapidly, but I could feel it happening, feel everything crumbling inside me.

The burn behind my eyes. The stinging in my throat. I clenched my fists, tried to steady my breath-tried to push it back down like I always did.

But for the first time, I couldn't. For the first time, I let it happen.

The first tear fell hot down my cheek, and I felt my entire body seize. I had taken bullets without flinching.

I had watched men die at my hands without feeling a goddamn thing.

But standing here, with Emilia's hands still on me, her eyes locked onto mine, seeing the tears I had never allowed myself to shed-

I had never felt more exposed.

Emilia inhaled sharply, something shifting in her expression. "You're crying," she whispered.

It wasn't a question.

It was disbelief. Because I had spent my entire life making sure no one could ever break me. But she had. She already had. And now she knew it.

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard, forcing myself to breathe.

But it didn't stop. The silent tears kept falling, each one a reminder of everything I had tried to forget, tried to kill, tried to run from.

And then-she touched my face.

Her fingers grazed my cheek, soft, warm, grounding.

I flinched. Not from the touch itself-but from the way it shattered me. From the way it made every wall collapse.

I sucked in a shaky breath, but before I could shove her away, before I could break completely, she whispered, "Why?" Then she shook her head quickly. "I didn't mean it."

I froze. Her thumb brushed away one of the tears, slow and deliberate.

"That night," she murmured. "When I told you to leave. I didn't mean it."

My entire body locked up. She was too close, too warm, too much.

I wanted to believe her. But the wound was too deep, too raw, too fresh.

I shook my head, voice hoarse. "You did."

She exhaled sharply. "No, Valeria. I didn't."

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to breathe, to push back the ache clawing up my throat.

Her hand was still on my face, still grounding me, still pulling me back to her.

I should have stepped back, should have torn myself away, should have ended this before it completely destroyed me.

But I couldn't. Because she wasn't just touching me. She was holding me together. Emilia's breath trembled against my skin. She wasn't just saying words-she meant them.

"I was wrong," she whispered, her voice unsteady, breaking in places. "I let anger get the best of me. I let fear get the best of me. But I didn't mean it, Valeria."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands twitching at my sides, my chest rising too fast, too hard. I had wanted to hear those words for weeks.

And now that they were here, they hurt more than anything else.

"You told me to leave," I rasped, my throat burning with the weight of it. "You told me you never wanted to see me again."

She flinched. "I know."

"And I believed you."

Her fingers curled slightly against my cheek, her touch firmer now.

"I know," she whispered again, pain flashing in her eyes. "And I hate myself for it."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. There was too much inside me. Too much I had kept buried, too much I had tried to pretend didn't matter.

But it did. It had always mattered.

"You broke me that night," I admitted, my voice quieter now, but no less heavy.

Emilia inhaled sharply, her eyes searching mine. "I know," she whispered again, softer this time.

She didn't try to justify it. Didn't try to explain it away. She just let it sit between us.

Like she knew there was no fixing it. But she was still here. Still trying.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "I told myself I wouldn't come back. That you didn't want me to."

She licked her lips, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, anchoring me to her. "But I do."

I let out a shaky breath, my pulse hammering in my ears.

"You shouldn't," I murmured, my voice breaking.

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't back away. She moved closer.

"But I do." My hands clenched, fighting every instinct to pull her in.

But she wasn't done.

"I never stopped wanting you, Valeria," she whispered. "Even when I tried to hate you. Even when I was angry. I still-"

Her breath hitched, and I saw it. The same wreckage I felt inside of me was in her eyes too.

I let out another slow, shuddering breath, my hands shaking at my sides.

"I don't know how to do this," I admitted, barely above a breath.

Emilia exhaled softly, her touch never leaving me.

"Then let me show you. Come home with me. I need you"