Chapter 108

**Hadassah POV**

Moonlight filters through the dense canopy of ancient oaks that line the gravel drive, casting long, twisted shadows across the manicured lawns. The house itself is a labyrinth of gabled roofs and towering chimneys, its windows darkened, save for a few that glow with the faintest light, like eyes watching over the sprawling estate.
Adjacent to the main house, tucked away behind a tall hedge and partially hidden by a thick curtain of ivy, stands the detached quarters for the security detail. This building, less ornate, is equally imposing, built with the same sturdy stone as the manor.
I tug my cardigan close as I walk towards it before I’m impeded by a patrolling night guard. And I recognize this one. He’s the one who called Ellis, ‘Ellie’ with a concern he couldn't conceal.
“And where are you going this time of night?”
I submit a half-hearted shrug. “You know, I was going to lie. I planned it out and everything, but I know how it will go. And I’m tired. I need to see Ellis—even if it’s just for a moment.”
“So he can get his whole body dissolved in acid. No fucking way, Mrs Moon,” he says with an equally acidic tone. “You should go back to bed.”
“I can’t,” I whisper back fiercely. “Not after what I witnessed, knowing that I’m the sole cause. I never meant for anything to happen, especially not to him. I can’t sleep and I don’t think I ever will until I know he’s okay. So if you want to go snitch, go be a rat. If you think you’re going to stop me, I won’t be the only one clocking a visit with the physician.”
He nods slowly, cynically. “Torin would kill me without blinking. But I’m more scared of what Ellis would do if he knew I turned you away. And that’s the only reason I’m going to give you all but five minutes.”
I free a relieved breath, my chest deflating like a popped balloon that held too much pressure. He leads me inside, entering the primary lounge, which is occupied by a few off-duty guards in the living space that is sparsely furnished—just a few fixtures, functional furniture with tables cluttered with various maps and a table surface of meticulously laid out weaponry. A hostile hush falls over them as they watch me pass with a ferocious intensity that could dash me into pieces.
“Don’t worry, they’re not going to hurt ya,” he says with something held back in his voice, like he’s omitting something worse. “Just be glad you are who you are—that the boss doesn’t want to see you hurt.”
“You all close?”
“Most of us served together. Ellis recruited those he trusted with the skills to back the talk. A lot of us were left to hang dry after being unceremoniously discharged from service. Ellis took care of us.”
“I didn’t mean for him to get hurt,” I murmur.
He exhales deeply. “I know.”
He soon stops at a door and pounds on it twice. “He was on a heavy dose of morphine, so I’m sure he’s just coming out of it.”
He cracks the door open, trades curt words with Ellis on the other side before he gives me a nod, granting me access. He opens the door for me and I enter. Ellis leans back in his bed. He looks back at us but his focus is fractured. His forearms are heavily bandaged from wrist to elbow, the white gauze stark against his tanned, weathered skin. The bandages are clean, but they can’t fully sheathe the redness seeping through in places where the wounds beneath were still fresh, angry, and painful. Ellis sends him a nod, and he recedes to close his door behind him.
“Are you okay?” he asks before I even get the chance to.
“That’s my line,” I say with a playful chide.
“Answer me.”
I lift my bandaged wrist. “Just a double fracture. I’m fine.”
“That motherfucker—”
He tries to move, but I rush at him to lay my hands on his muscled chest to stop him. He stops immediately and his eyes stutter towards my hands on his chest. He braved acid like it was hot water and now, for the first time, I see true fear in his eyes with merely just my hands on him. I yank my hands back, straightening my posture. He gazes up at me with starry eyes like being admired by the heavens itself.
“Can I touch you—please?”
His hands, similarly wrapped, tremble slightly as he flexes his fingers, testing the limits of movement. Every shift sends a sharp sting shooting up his arms, but he grits his teeth, pushing the pain aside with the determination of a man accustomed to discomfort. So I come near, drawing my face closer to his, unsure of what he wants—or maybe it’s just the painkillers.
His bandaged hand moves with a tenderness that belies the pain he carries, the stark white gauze soft against my skin. As his fingers brush my cheek, there is a careful, almost reverent touch, as if he is afraid of causing me the very pain he endures. The roughness of the fabric contrasts with the warmth that radiates from his hand, and despite the layers of bandage, I can still feel the steady, comforting pulse beneath.
His eyes follow the path of his hand, watching intently as he traces the curve of my cheekbone. The movements are slow, almost lazy, as though he is savoring every moment of contact, committing the feel of my skin to memory. The rough texture of the gauze doesn’t detract from the intimacy of the gesture; rather, it adds a layer of raw vulnerability, a reminder of his own fragility even in this gentle moment.
A tear slips out, and he wipes it away with a rare but sad smile. He continues, the pads of his fingers brushing across my chin, until finally, he reaches my lips.
His finger hovers there for a moment, as if hesitating, before outlining my lips with the same idle, loving care. The touch is feather-light, a barely-there caress that sends a flutter through my chest. My breath catches as his eyes lock onto mine, the tether between us deepening in the quiet of the moment. As his finger linger, tracing the bow of my upper lip, I take my chance and lean into his hand, pressing a soft kiss against the gauze. His eyes snap close for a long moment, relishing in the lingering, not just a kiss but a silent acknowledgment of the pain he bears for me, and a promise that I am here. I edge back, shaking my head with a sob burning my throat.
“I can’t.” A spasm in my good hand and I shake out the skittering sparks. “I just wanted to check on you… and to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“You got hurt because of me. And whatever this—us. Never again,” I splutter in fragmented sentences, but the statement is clear. “I don’t want you to do anything out of pocket because I guess I still want you around me, but not close. Never too close.”
A stoic look steels his face like a death mask. “Life doesn’t work like that. Tell me you want nothing to do with me and that you don’t feel even but a fraction of what I feel.”
I sigh helplessly, looking away. “I don’t want anymore death, blood or pain on my conscience, especially if it’s going to be yours,” I explain.
“Tell me,” he commands.
“Why are you giving me an ultimatum?”
“Why are you choosing a reality where whatever this is—doesn’t exist?”
“Because I’m a poison, Ellis,” I say, letting out an explosive breath. “Everything near me wilts and everything I touch withers. My mother is in foreign custody, and my best friend is imprisoned by a corporate criminal who’s related to the Yakuza boss who staked his claim on my life. And you… Ellis look at you.”
“You didn’t do this. And I would do another round, a hundred more until even my flesh was unrecognizable because every distortion is a decree of what no mortal sentiments could convey. Not because of you, but for you. So stop torturing yourself.”
“Why would I want you to endure that because of me? I’m not worth that and I don’t want to see you get hurt again, never again because of me,” I utter in a voice that’s half anguish, half anger. “And—and I won’t let you get hurt over a damn fling.”
“We both know you don’t mean that.”
“You don’t know because you don’t know me. You think it’s a coincidence that everyone I care over, got hurt? Think I won’t screw you over just like every man before you who thought we had something special? Even Torin believes he and I share a sacred bond. In every alternate reality, I would be standing with the feds, watching them raid this entire estate. I’m not on your side or Torin’s because I go against criminals, not with them in any capacity. Everything I did was based on my own survival. In case you forgot, I was never here by choice.”
I reverse before I turn away abruptly before I go for the door, unable to say this next part to his face.
“The reality I choose is that truth—always has been, always will be.” I conclude finally before I leave and I close the door with a hard thud and my back collapses against it, tipping my head to the ceiling, unable to keep the tears from falling as sorrow drains me, wringing out every ounce of what I had left out of me.