Chapter 233 We’ve done this before
Chapter 233: Chapter 233 We’ve done this before
Aria’s POV"If anything happens to me—if things get worse—I need you to run."
His hands framed my face, thumbs stroking across my cheekbones with devastating tenderness. "Promise me you’ll put yourself first. That you’ll get somewhere safe."
"Are you serious right now?" I pulled back, anger flaring hot and sudden in my chest. "After everything we’ve been through, you think I’d just abandon you?"
My eyes were already burning, tears threatening to spill over despite my best efforts to hold them back.
I hated crying—hated showing this kind of vulnerability—but the thought of losing him, of running away while he faced whatever darkness was coming alone...
It was unbearable.
"Don’t cry," he said immediately, panic flashing across his features as he reached for me. "Aria, please don’t—"
But I was already moving, throwing myself into his arms before he could finish the sentence. I wrapped myself around him carefully—so carefully—like he was made of glass instead of muscle and bone and supernatural strength.
"I’m scared," I whispered against his shoulder, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I’m so scared, Damian. I’m not some fearless Luna who knows how to handle all of this. I’m just... I’m terrified of losing you. Of waking up one day and finding out you’re gone."
His arms tightened around me, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. "I’m not going anywhere."
"You can’t promise that." The tears were falling now, hot and unchecked against his shirt. "You were lost and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help you, couldn’t protect you, couldn’t—"
My voice broke. "If you just disappeared on me without warning, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know how to exist in a world without you in it anymore."
It was the most honest I’d ever been. More honest than I’d managed to be even with Ethan, back when I’d still believed he loved me. Back when I’d still had walls up and armor on.
But with Damian, I had nothing left to hide behind. He’d already seen every broken piece of me and chosen to stay anyway.
His hand was stroking through my hair now, the gesture soothing and protective. "I know. I know, sweetheart. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for scaring you like that."
He kept murmuring reassurances, his voice a low rumble against my ear, and gradually—so gradually—I felt some of the terror loosen its grip on my chest.