That thought alone twists deeper than any blow they landed. She's no longer just my secret, my safe harbor—she's become a target. The realization sits like lead in my stomach, heavier than all my injuries combined. I try to move, but my body screams in protest. Blood drips steadily from my split lip, marking the gravel like morse code—a desperate message to no one.

The night air grows colder, or maybe it's just the blood loss. Either way, I know with absolute certainty that everything has changed. This isn't just about surviving anymore—it's about protecting what matters. The only pure thing left in my dark, twisted world.

I close my eyes, seeing Nora's face behind my eyelids. The way she looks when she's reading, completely lost in another world. The small crease between her eyebrows when she's worried. The sound of her laugh, how it makes everything else fade away. I have to keep her safe, even if it means pushing her away.

Even if it means breaking both our hearts.

Whatever it takes.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

68. Dancing In The Dark

CHAPTER 68

DANCING IN THE DARK

NORA

The air hangs thick with humidity, saltwater lapping against the dock that stretches into the lake like a wooden finger reaching for infinity. The familiar creak of weathered planks beneath me feels like home as I dangle my legs over the edge, letting the cool night air kiss my skin.

"Wonderwall" plays softly from my iPod, its familiar melody wrapping around me like muscle memory. Above, stars scatter across the vast darkness—nature's own light show against velvet black. I close my eyes and tilt my face toward the night air, and that's when I feel it—the shift in the atmosphere that always signals his presence.

My body knows before my mind does, responding to him like a compass finding true north. The air itself seems to rearrange around him, molecules dancing to accommodate his presence. It sends my heart into a familiar spiral of beats I can't control.

He's always felt like this—both known and new, like a song I've had memorized since before I first heard it. His absence leaves me hollow, an echo chamber waiting for sound. His presence lights up every nerve ending until I'm almost dizzy with awareness. Sometimes I think it's dangerous to need someone this much, to love with an intensity that borders on physical pain.

"Sorry," he says, voice rough. "Didn't mean to creep up on you."

When he steps closer, my stomach drops. His lip is swollen, his cheekbone painted in violent shades of purple and blue. He's favoring his left side, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. The sight of him—broken but still standing—fractures something inside me.

"Oh, my God, Nate," I whisper, scrambling to my feet as my heart pounds against my ribcage. "What happened to you?"