She exhales shakily. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my coat.

I can feel her breaking, letting her guard down just like I already have.

But then my gaze drops to her wrist. A bruise. Small, dark, but unmistakably a fingerprint so rough that it left a mark behind. My stomach knots.

I grab her arm gently, turning it so I can see better.

"Who did this to you?" My voice is low.

She pulls back slightly, but I don’t let go.

"Lakynn." My grip tightens. "Who did this?"

She doesn’t answer.

"Tell me." My jaw clenches.

Finally, she whispers, "Dad. When I refused to put the ring on. He grabbed me."

I go still. Quiet.

Then I move.

I realize she still has that stupid ring on and I slip it off quickly. She doesn't fight it but she does flinch as if I’ve hurt her, despite the ring sliding off easily. Rage runs through me when I notice the bruise already darkening her finger.

That fucking bastard. I take the ring and chuck it far across the room, hearing the satisfying clank of it falling to the floor.

She looks at me dazed when I scoop her up and help her fix her clothes. "Where are we going?" she asks me.

"To return the favor," I say.

Because he put his hands on her and now I’m going to leave bruises of my own.

LAKYNN

“What is it?” I whisper as we stand outside of the farmhouse where we first met. I rest a hand on Riven’s chest, smoothing it down instinctively.

He groans under the touch and presses closer, leaning into me like he needs it more than air. I know he has a lot to tell me, but for right now I’m content being close to him like this.

Then he takes my hand in his, brings it to his chest, and places it flat over his heartbeat. It thunders beneath my palm.

“You’re going to see a side of me again I never wanted you to see,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s important to me that you know the truth. So I need you to see what’s going to happen.”

I nod, but I want him to hear it too. “I want to know every part of you, Riven,” I whisper. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His eyes close for just a beat, and when they open, they’re darker somehow.

He dips his head, kissing my forehead. His hands slide up my sides, fingers curling into my jacket as he pulls me tighter into his chest.

“Everything I’ve ever done…” he tips my chin back, forcing me to look up at him, “and everything I ever will do… has been for you. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

My mouth parts, but no sound comes.