I see what he's thinking in the way his jaw clenches like steel, in how his eyes darken to match the night. He wants to destroy Evan. The thought terrifies me—not for Evan's sake, but for Nate's, for how violence seems to call to him like a siren song.

"Don't," I whisper, my voice steady as the north star despite the storm inside me. "Whatever you're thinking of doing, please don't."

His gaze snaps to mine, his expression torn between rage and devotion.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," I say firmly, anchored in certainty. "Please, Nate."

He looks away, chest heaving like he's running from something. He's falling apart before me, and I can't bear to watch.

I place my hands on either side of his face, feeling his warmth beneath my palms despite the cool night air. The pain in his eyes makes my chest ache like an old wound reopened.

"Listen to me. You're here now," I whisper, the words a balm against broken things. "That's what matters."

I lean in, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that's as much a plea as it is a promise. For a moment, he's frozen, but then his hands come up to cradle my face and he kisses me back with a tenderness that feels like coming home.

The world falls away, leaving just us, broken but together, finding wholeness in each other's fragments. The lake whispers secrets behind us, and the stars above bear witness to this moment where pain and healing dance like light on water, where two damaged souls find sanctuary in each other's arms.

57. Magnata

CHAPTER 57

MAGNATA

NATE

She called? My mind races, desperately searching for any memory of that call. There's nothing but a dark void where I should've been for her. Nausea rises as I piece together the timeline, each second of silence between us sharpening the ache like broken glass.

"Farrah answered."

Every muscle in my body tenses. Her words shatter something in me. I would've taken any amount of pain—broken bones, my father's fists, anything—over this. She reached for me, and I let her fall.

"Nora, I'm so sorry," is all I can find myself saying, over and over again. My voice is barely louder than my thundering pulse. Her pain mirrors my own, a reflection of all my failures.

"I swear to God, if—" I mutter, the words slipping out like venom. My fists clench until my knuckles ache.

Her hand covers mine and her eyes lock onto mine, wide with worry—not for herself, but for me.

"Don't," she says firmly. "Please, Nate. I just got you back… I can't lose you again."

She isn't afraid of Evan. She's afraid of what I might become because of her. That thought weighs heavier than mountains.