I want to promise her I won't do anything reckless, that I'll let it go. But that would be a lie darker than the lake below us. If Evan breathes near her again, I'll make him regret every second of his miserable existence.

"You didn't deserve any of this. Not then, not now, not ever."

She searches my face like she's trying to untangle the tempest inside me. Instead of retreating, she leans in, cradling my face like I'm something precious rather than destructive. Her touch steadies my world on its axis. Then she kisses me. It's everything I didn't know I needed until this moment suspended between heartbeats. The anger, pain, and guilt fades like in an instant.

There's nothing but her.

I kiss her back, framing her face with my hands. She's been my solace, keeping me from losing myself to the darkness that's always threatened to consume me long before now. With her lips on mine and her heart against my chest, I understand that broken things can be beautiful in their healing. When we break apart, her forehead rests against mine, skin warm and damp with tears. Our breaths mingle in the cool night air, creating a sanctuary between us.

One truth I know for certain is that I would go to the ends of the earth for this girl. No length I wouldn't go to, no line I wouldn't cross, no fire I wouldn't walk through. Because she isn't just part of my world—she's the entire galaxy, and I'm caught in her orbit like a planet that's forgotten how to spin any other way.

Her sobs echo through me like thunder, each shaky breath a scream in my soul. How could she think she had to hide this from me—the one person who knows what it's like to carry darkness as a second skin?

"It's okay to cry, Len. I've got you," I whisper, my voice breaking like waves on rocks.

She crumbles completely, tears soaking through my shirt. The rage builds inside me like magma beneath the earth.

I'll kill him.

I'll make him regret ever touching her.

I rub her back in slow circles, running my fingers through her silk-soft hair, pressing kisses to her crown like each touch could erase her pain. If I could, I'd take it all and make it my burden just so she'd never hurt again.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, fragile as frost.

I pull back to see her tear-streaked face glinting in the moonlight.

"What the hell could you possibly be sorry for?"

"Your shirt," she breathes. "It's ruined."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "I hated this shirt anyway."

We stay wrapped in each other, time slipping away like water. I'd stand here forever if it meant keeping her close. She makes me feel alive—more than any high has ever given me.

"Do you know what magnata means?"

I wait, fascinated by how her mind finds beauty in strange places.