Chapter 1

He suddenly gripped the back of my neck and bent down to kiss me.

My breath was stolen, my body trapped in his arms.

I should have pushed him away—but I froze.

He stopped, his forehead resting against mine, his voice nearly breaking.

“Don’t leave me again.”

In this life, I feel no fear.

Given another chance, I finally understand—

he would never hurt me.

Because the man who kissed me

is my brother.

I blinked, and I was twenty-two again, standing beneath the hawthorn tree in our miserable backyard. Mark’s arms were around me, his voice a sweet poison at my ear.

“Just pour it in his drink,” he murmured. “He trusts you. This’ll knock him out. Then we leave. Tonight.”

His fingers pinched my wrist. I didn’t look at him. I looked through the kitchen window.

Leo stood in the doorway, white T-shirt, sleeves rolled up. A knife hung loose in his hand, forgotten. His face was pale, expression blank, winter-gray eyes locked on Mark’s grip on me.

Memory slammed into me—those same eyes red and ruined as I left him bleeding, his voice echoing from beneath the dirt.

I shoved Mark back.

“What’s wrong with my brother?” I asked flatly.

“He’s dangerous,” Mark snapped. “He’s trapping you.”

A slow smile cut across my face. “He just loves me too well.”

I turned away from my killer and walked toward the house—toward my jailer, my savior, my sin, my only home.

The moment I stepped inside, Leo grabbed my arm and dragged me into the dark living room without a word. His silence was worse than shouting.

Last time, I’d fought and screamed while he tied me to this chair, watched his face shatter as I called him a monster. He’d finished silently and told me dinner was meatloaf. My favorite.

This time, I stayed quiet.

I watched his scarred hands bind my wrists with his belt—careful, precise. He tucked cloth beneath the knot so it wouldn’t hurt. The tenderness nearly broke me.

“You don’t have to tie me up,” I said softly.

He didn’t believe me. His eyes held no trust. To him, this was just a smarter lie.

Words were useless. So I spoke the only language he understood.

I let my shoulders slump, let my voice tremble. “Leo… it hurts.”

Three seconds. Then he was on his knees, panicked, fumbling with the belt. The control vanished. His hands shook.

I reached up, fingers sliding into his hair. He froze.

I traced the corner of his eye and whispered, “This time… let me protect you.”

I meant it. Mark and Chloe wouldn’t use his love as a weapon again. I would end it—quietly, carefully—without dragging him back into the dark for me. Not this time.