Emilia's POV

She was breaking.

Right in front of me.

The woman who had taken bullets without flinching, who had stood over bodies without remorse, who had built herself into something untouchable-she was breaking.

And I was holding the pieces.

Her breath was unsteady, her jaw tight like she was physically fighting herself. But she wasn't pushing me away anymore.

I didn't want to lose this moment. I couldn't.

"Come home with me."

The words left my lips before I even realized I had said them. Soft. Certain. Her body tensed beneath my touch.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, like she wanted to reach for me and run all at once.

"Emilia-"

"Come home with me," I repeated, firmer this time. "Stay with me."

She exhaled sharply, her gaze shifting-not meeting mine, like she was already preparing to refuse.

"I'm comfortable here." Her voice was careful, calculated. The words hit something sharp inside me.

Here. In Claudia's house.

I hadn't forgotten her presence, the way she had leaned in the doorway, smirking like she knew something I didn't. Like she had some kind of claim.

"Who is it, Cariña?"

The way she had said it. The way Valeria didn't correct her. My grip on her wrists tightened slightly.

I didn't ask. I wanted to. I wanted to know if this place was more than just a hiding spot. If Claudia was more than just a friend.

If Valeria had spent the weeks I was wrecked over her in someone else's bed. The thought made my stomach twist.

I told myself it didn't matter. That I had no right to be jealous. That I had been the one to push her away first, that I was the one who told her to leave.

But knowing that didn't stop the way my throat burned.

It didn't stop the way the words felt stuck behind my teeth, pressing against my tongue-questions I didn't want answers to.

So I didn't ask.

Because right now, this moment was more important. Because if I let my jealousy win, if I let my frustration push too hard-she would shut down again.

And I couldn't lose her. Not again.

"No, you're not." She looked at me then.

"You don't belong here, Valeria," I whispered, my voice softer now, less edged, less sharp. "You belong with me."

Her breath hitched. For a second, just a second, I saw her give in. I saw the hesitation, the doubt, the war still raging inside her. I saw that she wanted to believe me.

That she wanted to come home.

Then, like a switch flipping, her expression closed off again. "I'm fine where I am."

Liar.

"I'm not." The words came out before I could stop them. Before I could control the emotion in my voice. Something flickered in her eyes. I stepped closer, my hands sliding down her arms, finding her wrists again.

"I'm not fine, I need you." The second the words left my lips, her entire body went still.

Her lips parted slightly, her breathing uneven. Like she hadn't expected that. Like she hadn't let herself believe it was true.

I tightened my grip on her, holding onto her like she was something I couldn't afford to lose. "I need you, Valeria."

I saw her flinch, like the words had physically hit her. Her throat bobbed, her fingers curling into fists. She didn't pull away. But she didn't give in either.

Valeria's POV

She was still holding me. Still looking at me like I was something she didn't want to lose.

Like she didn't care about all the blood on my hands, all the terrible things I had done, all the ways I had tried to push her away.

"I need you."

Those three words had already unraveled me. I felt them settling deep inside me, in places I had locked away and buried for years.

No one had ever needed me. Not like this. Not as more than a weapon, more than a killer, more than something dangerous and useful.

But she did. And it was fucking terrifying. I tried to step back, to put distance between us, but she wouldn't let me.

"You'll be fine without me." The words sounded like a lie the second I said them. Because she shook her head immediately.

"No, I won't."

Her voice was soft but firm. There wasn't even hesitation in it. And then, she reached for my face. The second her fingers cupped my jaw, I felt myself tense, freeze, fall apart all at once.

It wasn't like before, when her touch had been teasing, testing, trying to break my composure. This was different.

It was real.

"Stay."

One word. A plea.

I couldn't breathe. I wanted to listen. I wanted to say yes. But I was still scared. I didn't know how to be what she wanted me to be.

What if I fucked it up? What if I hurt her again?

What if she realized she didn't need me after all?

I let out a shaky breath, my voice breaking before I could stop it.

"I don't know how."

Her fingers tightened slightly, grounding me, keeping me from running.

"Then let me show you." She was so sure. Like she had already made her decision, and all I had to do was stop fighting it.

I exhaled sharply, my body tensing, resisting, holding on to the last bit of armor I had left.

But then-she slid her hands down to my wrists.

Slow, deliberate.

Her fingers pressed against the scars I had long stopped feeling, tracing the reminders of another life, another girl who didn't exist anymore.

The touch was so gentle, so unbearably careful.

And something inside me broke again. Not like a violent shattering. Like a quiet, helpless surrender. So when she grabbed my hand and started leading me toward the door... I didn't stop her.

I just followed.

---

Emilia's POV

She let me take her hand. And for Valeria-that was everything.

She had spent her entire life walking alone, never letting anyone hold on to her, never staying in one place, never staying with one person.

But now, she was letting me lead her home. I kept my grip on her firm, as if letting go for even a second meant she would disappear again.

We had almost reached the door when a voice-of fucking course-ruined the moment.

"Didn't think you had it in you, Cariña."

I stiffened. Valeria didn't. She didn't turn, didn't react, didn't even pause. But I did.

I felt it deep in my stomach, twisting, tightening. Claudia was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, that same damn smirk on her lips.

Like she knew something I didn't. Like she had already won some unspoken game. I hated her for it. But I didn't say a word. Because I had no right to. Not when I had been the one to push Valeria away first. Not when I had been the one to tell her to leave. Not when I had no idea what had happened in the weeks she had been gone.

Instead, I tightened my grip on Valeria's hand and kept walking. And she kept following me.

Claudia let out a low chuckle as we passed, but she didn't stop us. And I didn't dare look back.

Because for once, I had already won. The second we stepped inside, I turned to face her, barely giving her time to settle before the words left my mouth.

"Take it off." Valeria didn't even blink.

Her expression didn't shift in confusion or hesitation. Instead, her body stilled in a way that sent something cold crawling down my spine.

Her eyes flicked over me, slow, calculating. Not teasing, not amused-just waiting.

"What?" she asked, but not like she hadn't heard me. More like she was giving me the chance to take it back.

I didn't.

"The shirt," I said, crossing my arms. "Take it off." She inhaled slowly, her lips curling-not in a smirk, not even in amusement. In something unreadable.

"Didn't think you'd ask so soon," she murmured.

Something about the way she said it made my stomach twist. The words were too easy. Too natural. Like she had been waiting for it. Like it was expected.

Like she was used to it. My breath caught in my throat, because I realized exactly what she meant.

I had never seen her with anyone. Never heard her talk about lovers, about flings, about intimacy at all. I had never stopped to wonder why.

Until now. I didn't know where it came from-the sudden, overwhelming weight of understanding. But I knew, without her saying it, without her confirming it-

Sex, for Valeria, had never been about want.

It had been a currency. A weapon. A transaction. And the worst part?

She had just offered it to me. Not playfully. Not to tease. But because she thought I was asking for it. She thought that's what I wanted. She expected me to want something in return from her.

A payment? But for what? Is this what she understood when I said I needed her? My stomach turned violently, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

The truth was, That the second I saw her in Claudia's shirt, something ugly and possessive twisted inside me? That I couldn't stand the thought of her being wrapped in someone else's clothes, someone else's scent, someone else's space?

She must have seen something shift in my face, because her expression changed. The smirk faded slightly, like she was about to retract her words.

"Relax, Princesa," she muttered, voice quieter. "I will do it." She grabbed the hem of Claudia's shirt and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. No hesitation. No awareness.

I swallowed hard, turning away before she could read the thoughts racing through my head.

I grabbed the first thing I could find from my closet-a soft, slightly oversized T-shirt-and threw it at her.

"Now put this on." Valeria didn't argue. Like it didn't even occur to her to do anything else.

And it threw me off balance. I expected her to make a comment, to fight me on it, to at least smirk like she knew exactly why I was demanding she change.

But she didn't. I looked away-or at least, I tried to.

But for some reason, this time, watching her strip didn't feel the same.

It wasn't just that she was beautiful. It wasn't just the way her skin was bronzed and scarred and inked with a past she never spoke about.

It was the way she acted like it meant nothing. Like her body wasn't hers.

And suddenly, something clicked. She had never touched me first. Not once.

It had always been me-me pushing, me reaching, me taking. She had never stopped me, never pushed me away.

But she had never initiated it. And now I understood why.

My stomach twisted as I watched her pull the soft cotton of my T-shirt over her head, her movements calculated, detached. Like she had done this too many times before-responded to commands, taken orders, done what was expected.

It was second nature to her. Automatic. She wasn't just comfortable with obedience. She had been trained in it.

My throat burned with the realization, but I didn't say anything. I had too many thoughts warring in my head-too many things I wanted to say, to ask. I wasn't ready to hear the answers. And I didn't think she was ready to give them.

So I swallowed the knot in my throat and forced myself to speak, to say something normal.

"You look better in my clothes, anyway." Valeria let out a slow breath-not quite a laugh, but something close. " If you say so."

She sat down at the edge of my bed, elbows on her knees, fingers interlocked. Her eyes dragged over my room, the space she had been in before, but never like this. Never like she belonged here.

I stood there, watching her, waiting, knowing she wasn't done testing me yet.

"So where am I sleeping?" she asked, voice low, unreadable.

And just like that, the moment hung between us again-charged, uncertain, heavy. I had already made her stay.

But I wouldn't make her stay with me. So I gave her a choice. "There's a guest room." My voice was steady, but something inside me felt fragile. "Or you can stay here."

Valeria's gaze flickered to mine, something sharp behind it. I didn't say with me. I didn't say I wanted her in my bed. But the words were there. Unspoken. Waiting.

"You want me to pick?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. You picked before-to stay in the servants' room-and I let you. Why is it a surprise now?"

I knew why. I knew exactly why it was a surprise to her, but I didn't want to call her out.

Back then, I had practically kept her against her will. She was defying me, testing me, pushing me just to see what I would do. But now, it was different.

Now, she felt like she owed me something. Like her staying here came with an expectation. A price. Like I was waiting for her to pay me back. And I hated that.

Because now, every time I reached for her, I would wonder if she was letting me because she wanted to, or because she thought she had to.

And I didn't want that. I wanted her to want me. To want me like I wanted her.

"So if I said I'd stay in another room, you'd let me?" she asked, and my heart dropped.

I knew my face showed my disappointment before I could hide it.

"You don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "If you want to sleep alone, in your own space, you can." Regardless of how much I hated the thought of it.

She hesitated, and for a second, I thought that was it-that she would pick the guest room just to prove something, to keep whatever distance she thought she needed between us.

But then she asked, softer this time: "Do you want me here, or do you want me in another room?"

I swallowed hard. "I want you to pick."

"Answer my question first," she pressed.

I took a slow breath. No games. No pretending. Just the truth. "I want you here."

Something flickered in her expression-something sharp, knowing. Like she had been right about something. Like she had already predicted that answer.

And it pissed me off.

"Because I feel safe when you are beside me," I said, "That's all" "Sure," She said, her voice eve. Too even. I hated how clinical she made it sound. Like it wasn't personal. Like she was just filling some role.

"I love your company," I said, forcing a small smirk, trying to keep the conversation light even though everything about this felt heavy. "That's all you have to give me."

Her eyes changed at that. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"I'll stay here and protect you, then," she said, final.

That was it.

Protection. It was either sex or physical protection for her. Nothing in between.

Nothing freely given. I clenched my jaw, inhaling deeply, forcing myself to stay patient, to understand her.

"Val."

I sat beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but still hesitating, unsure if I could bridge the distance between us. She didn't look at me, her eyes focused on her hands, her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against her knee.

"You don't owe me anything," I said again, my voice softer this time. "You don't need to protect me."

Her body tensed slightly, her jaw tightening as she processed my words.

"I just said I feel safe around you. That's something I feel. It doesn't put any obligations on you."

Her fingers stopped tapping.

"That's not how the world works, Princesa."

Her voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that knocked the air out of me.

"Maybe not," I admitted, my throat tightening. "But it's how this works. It's how we work. You don't have to give me anything in return for staying here."

She finally looked at me then, her gaze sharp and searching, like she was looking for a catch. Like she didn't believe me.

"No one does anything for free," she said, her tone flat but her eyes betraying something raw.

"I'm not 'no one,' Valeria."

She flinched slightly, like my words had hit her in a place she didn't want to acknowledge.

"I don't know how to exist like that," she muttered, almost too low for me to hear. Her voice wavered slightly, and it cut deeper than I was ready for.

And suddenly, I was furious-not at her, but at the world that had made her this way.

"You shouldn't have to," I said firmly, my hands clenching into fists in my lap. "You shouldn't have to feel like everything comes with a price, or that you owe something to survive."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her shoulders rigid, but she didn't interrupt me.

"When I tell you I want you here," I continued, leaning forward slightly, "it's because I want you here. Not because I need you to protect me, or pay me back, or prove something to me."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if to shake off my words.

"That's not how people work, Emilia," she said, her tone bitter now. "You say that now, but one day you'll realize I'm not worth it."

"Don't tell me what I'll realize."

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine.

"You don't get to decide how I feel about you," I said, my voice shaking slightly but steady enough to make my point. "You don't get to tell me I'll regret letting you stay, or that you're not worth it. That's not your choice, Valeria."

For the first time since we started this conversation, her expression cracked.

Her brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

"I've made my choice," I said, softer now, leaning closer. "And I'll keep making it, every day, for as long as you'll let me."

Her breath hitched, her hands clenching into fists as if she didn't know what else to do with them.

I reached for her wrist, gently this time, letting my fingers brush over the scars there. Her body stiffened under my touch, but she didn't pull away.

"You don't have to decide anything right now," I said quietly. "Try for tonight and see if you will be comfortable beside me, If not, then it is okay."

For a long moment, she didn't respond. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, her eyes flickering between mine, searching for something I didn't know if she would find.

Then, finally, she nodded.

It was small, hesitant, like she didn't trust herself to agree but couldn't stop herself either.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.