The fire in the hearth crackled softly, but Olivia felt no warmth. Her fingers played absentmindedly with the edge of the curtain as she stood near the window, eyes fixed on the courtyard where Rishtel carriage was leaving. Her heart raced—half from confusion, half from sothing she didn’t dare na.
The door creaked open. She didn’t need to turn.
"You should knock," she said quietly.
Damon didn’t answer imdiately. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and the silence stretched thin.
"I wanted to see you," he said at last, his voice low.
Damon stopped behind her, silent for a beat. "I thought you’d be asleep."
"How could I?" She finally turned to face him, her eyes shining—not from the moonlight, but from everything she had buried behind them. "Why does he wants to marry Oriana? What does he need from ?"
Damon exhaled slowly. "It was unavoidable."
"And my kids?" Her voice cracked now. "what if he harm them?"
"he wouldn’t."
Her hands curled into fists. "How could you let that happen?"
"I didn’t let it happen. It was part of the deal," Damon said, stepping closer. "The one I made to protect you."
She stared at him, heart pounding. "That’s a lie. You never told about any deal. You just keep doing things—making decisions—and I’m always the one left in the dark."
"I was trying to protect you."
"No," she said, stepping back, away from him. "You were controlling . Why do i even need a protection?"
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. "You really think I could use you? That I’m capable of treating you like a weapon?"
She looked at him, eyes wide and wet. "You didn’t even ask my sister, Damon. You stood there, making promises, bartering my sister’s life away while keeping secrets from . And now you co in here like nothing’s wrong and—"
"I’m not here to pretend nothing’s wrong," he interrupted, stepping forward again. His voice was rougher now, more raw. "I’m here because I can’t breathe without seeing you."
Olivia’s breath caught in her throat. Her back t the wall as Damon closed the space between them, hands braced on either side of her.
She placed a palm on his chest. "Don’t. Don’t do this just to shut up."
He leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed her cheek. "You think I’m touching you to silence you?" His voice dropped, intense and intimate. "No, Olivia. I’m touching you because I can’t stop."
She pushed him slightly, but he caught her hand and pressed it against his chest—his heart racing under her palm.
"I don’t know what’s true anymore," she whispered. "You keep hiding things."
He brought his face closer, lips hovering near hers. "Ask anything, Olivia. Anything, and I’ll answer. But don’t doubt this—I love you. I’ve loved you since the mont I saw you again."
Her heart betrayed her, fluttering wildly as he slowly, deliberately leaned in. His fingers slid around her waist, the heat of his touch lting through her anger, her doubts. His lips brushed hers—not quite a kiss—just a touch, a question.
"You should hate ," he murmured. "You should push away."
"I’m trying," she whispered.
And then he kissed her.
Not gentle this ti. His mouth claid hers like he was drowning, and she was the only air he could breathe. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. She hated the way her body responded, how her knees weakened, how every wall she’d built trembled.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she rested her forehead against his chest.
"I still don’t trust you," she murmured.
"Then let earn it," he said, voice hoarse. "Let love you the way you deserve, even if it kills ."
The door creaked open.
She didn’t look up at first — thought it was another guard co to gawk at the "prisoners of duke," the monster in royal silk.
But she felt the shift in the air.
Felt him before he said a word.
"...Olivia."
Her breath caught.
Slowly, she raised her eyes — and there he was.
Damon.
He stood just inside the cell, the flickering torchlight playing tricks with the shadows on his face. He looked like a ghost — or maybe she was the ghost already.
"I wasn’t sure you’d co," she said, voice rough from silence.
He walked forward and knelt before her, eyes drinking her in like it would be the last ti. Maybe he already knew it was.
"I shouldn’t have," he murmured.
"But you did," she whispered.
He reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand trembled. "I had to see you."
"Why?" She wanted to sound bitter, furious. But she just sounded tired.
His thumb grazed her cheek. "Because I never wanted this for you. Gods, Olivia... I wish things could have been different."
Her eyes stung. "Then why weren’t they?"
He didn’t answer.
He just stared at her like he was morizing the curve of her jaw, the weight in her eyes, the crack in her voice. He cupped her face in both hands — gentle, reverent, almost afraid.
"Say sothing," she pleaded. "Tell it was all a mistake. That you didn’t an for to—"
"I can’t," he said softly, eyes glistening. "I made choices. I thought they were necessary."
"To kill ?" Her voice broke.
His forehead touched hers, breath shallow, raw. "yes. To protect you, even when it ant losing you."
She laughed — a bitter, trembling sound. "Don’t you dare pretend this was for ."
His hands didn’t leave her. "I wish I could go back."
"But you didn’t."
They stayed like that for a long ti. Her chained hands between them, his face a breath away, hearts too shattered to beat properly.
And then he leaned in — not for a kiss.
Just the lightest press of lips to her brow.
"I will carry this," he whispered. "Even if you never forgive . Or forget what happened."
Then he stood, walked away, and never looked back.
Olivia gapsed and Damon held her tightly. "What happened? "
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