I shook my head slightly, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “I’m not going to make you go against your morals,” I said softly. “But I need to prepare myself… mentally. I need to accept what’s coming, so I can support you without fear clouding my judgment.”
He let out a long, slow sigh, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of his entire day. “You don’t understand.”
He took a seat on the couch, shoulders tense and rigid. I moved to sit beside him, careful to close the distance without overwhelming him. “Then make me,” I said gently. “What are you truly afraid of?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then he began, voice low, measured. He spoke about the fight, about Marcus, and about Adrian—the feral, merciless part of him he hated to unleash. “I’ve been training myself to control it
