"I don't know!"
The sound tore through the penthouse, louder than I meant it to be. My voice broke somewhere in the middle of the word. Then everything else followed.
My knees gave out before I could stop them. I sank onto the floor, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to stop the tears. But it was too late.
The sobs came hard—ugly, heaving, unstoppable. Everything I had been holding in—the exhaustion, the fear, the humiliation—spilled out all at once.
"I don't know how to do this anymore," I choked. "It's too hard. Everything—everything hurts."
For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then, I heard his sharp intake of breath—like he'd been punched.
"Elara…"
His voice cracked, and then he was in front of me. I felt his hands hovering near my shoulders, like he was afraid to touch me, afraid he'd break me further.
But when another sob tore out of me, he broke.
He knelt down and pulled me into his arms.
The moment he did, something in me shattered completely. I clutched at his shirt, burying my face in his chest as the storm outside roared against the glass. The rain was nothing compared to what was happening inside me.
Kaelen's arms wrapped around me—tight, desperate, trembling. His heartbeat was loud against my ear.
"God, Elara…" His voice was low, raw. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see… I didn't realize it was hurting you like this."
I shook my head weakly against him. "It's not— it's not just that. It's everything. The company, the press, your family, mine. I feel like I'm drowning, Kaelen. Every day."
He held me tighter, one hand in my hair, the other pressing against my back like he could shield me from the world itself.
"I never wanted this to be your burden," he whispered fiercely. "You shouldn't have to carry this alone."
I cried harder. My fingers curled against him, clutching at his soaked shirt. "But it had to be done. I knew it had to be done. I want us to be able to face this together."
"I know," he said hoarsely. "And I meant it when I said we'll do it together. But not like this. Not if it's breaking you."
I could hear the regret in his voice—the kind that runs deep, that sits heavy in the bones.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing a tear from my cheek. "You're too young for this kind of war," he said quietly, like he was saying it more to himself than to me. "You shouldn't have to keep pretending you're made of steel."
Something in the way he said it—so gentle, so broken—made my chest ache even harder.
"I don't know how to stop," I whispered.
"You don't have to," he said, his forehead resting against mine. "Just breathe. For now, just breathe."
And for the first time in weeks, we weren't fighting.
No accusations, no defenses, no pride. Just two people who had finally run out of ways to hurt each other.
I don't know how long we stayed like that—me trembling in his arms, him holding on like he'd lose me if he blinked. The storm outside was relentless, but in here, the only thing that existed was the sound of our breathing slowly finding the same rhythm.
When my sobs finally quieted, he spoke again—barely above a whisper. "Elara."
I looked up, eyes still wet, throat raw.
He cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were red, too—not from tears, but from the kind of exhaustion that comes when everything you've built is crumbling.
"I don't know how to fix this," he said. "But I swear to you—I will. Whatever it takes. I'm not letting it hurt you anymore."
I looked up at him through the blur of my tears. "How?" My voice came out small, shaky. "How are you going to stop it?"
Kaelen's jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed soft. "I'll end it."
I blinked, not sure I'd heard him right. "What?"
"The campaign. The act. All of it." His voice was steady now—calm in a way that scared me. "We'll find another way. I've already found leads—contacts from the offshore accounts, an analyst from Vancourt's finance team who's been avoiding calls. There are other ways to get the evidence."
I shook my head, wiping at my face. "No, Kaelen… you can't. We're too close. You said this was the only way to corner them—"
He cut me off gently. "I know what I said. And I know what it's doing to you."
His hand found mine, cold and strong, fingers closing over my trembling ones. "Elara, I can take the sleepless nights, the press, the board. But I can't take watching this—" he gestured helplessly, his thumb brushing the wet streak on my cheek "—happen to you."
My throat constricted. "You'll lose your leverage."
"Then I'll lose it." His tone left no room for argument. "I won't let them use you—or what we have—as a weapon again."
His words hit me like a tremor, something breaking open in my chest.
"Kaelen…" I whispered. "You can't throw everything away because of me."
He gave a faint, crooked smile. "You think this is about the plan? Elara, I've built empires and burned them down before. But if I lose you in this one, none of it means anything."
The storm outside softened to a low growl, rain streaking down the glass walls like the world itself had gone quiet to listen.
He reached up, fingers brushing the hair from my face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. "I'm not letting it hurt you anymore," he said again, quieter this time. "Not even if it means losing everything else."
I stared at him, my heart twisting. There was no cold calculation in his voice now. No steel, no strategy. Just Kaelen—the man beneath all the layers of power and control, the one I'd almost forgotten was still there.
My voice shook when I finally spoke. "You can't protect me from everything."
He gave a small, pained smile. "Maybe not. But I can start with this."
The space between us felt fragile, like the air itself was waiting.
I didn't even realize I'd leaned closer until I felt his breath against my skin. It was soft, uneven, warm. His hand slipped to the back of my neck, fingers tracing slow, uncertain lines along my jaw, like he was asking for permission he didn't dare voice.
And then—finally—he kissed me.
It wasn't a desperate kiss. Not the kind born out of anger or lust or fear. It was quiet. Slow. The kind that came after breaking apart completely, when there was nothing left to hide.
The taste of rain was still on his lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, anchoring me, while mine clutched at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
Every touch was a promise. Every breath a plea.
One second I was a shattered mess on the floor, the next his mouth was on mine, hard and desperate. It wasn't gentle. It was a claiming. A reset.
A low growl rumbled from his chest. "I can't take this anymore. Seeing you break... I can't. I'm sorry, Elara."
His hands weren't gentle either. They fisted in my hair, pulling my head back to deepen the kiss, his tongue plunging into my mouth. It was all teeth and heat and a frantic, raw need that mirrored my own. I clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer, my own whimpers swallowed by his hunger.
"I'm done playing their game," he snarled against my lips, his breath hot. "They want a war? They'll get one. But I'm not letting anyone hurt you anymore."
Before I could form a thought, he scooped me up. One arm hooked under my knees, the other banded around my back, crushing me against his chest. I didn't protest. I buried my face in his neck, biting down on the damp skin there, tasting rain and him.
He carried me to the bedroom, his stride long and furious. He didn't lay me down gently. He fell with me onto the mattress, his body a heavy, welcome weight pinning me down.
He ripped his mouth from mine, his eyes blazing down at me, dark and wild. "Tell me you're still mine." His hands reached out to touch me, gentle, soft, following the lines of my body.
"Kaelen!" I gasped, arching against him. "I'm always yours."
That was all he needed.
His mouth crashed down on mine again, hands tearing at our clothes. Buttons scattered. Fabric ripped. We weren't lovers in that moment; we were warriors stripping off armor after a brutal battle, desperate to feel skin, to confirm we were both still alive, still here.
His hands were everywhere—rough, possessive, tracing the lines of my body as if to memorize them. "They will never get to you again," he vowed, his voice a raw, guttural promise against my throat. "I will burn it all down before I let them make you cry like that again."
"Then burn it," I challenged, my nails scraping down his bare back. "Just don't let me go."
A feral, triumphant sound escaped him. "Never."
He surged into me, and I cried out, my back bowing off the bed. It wasn't just sex. It was a collision. A reaffirmation. Every thrust was a promise, every gasp a prayer. The pain, the fear, the humiliation of the past weeks all melted away under the sheer, overwhelming force of him.
He drove into me, again and again, his eyes locked on mine, refusing to let me look away. "Look at me, Elara. See who you belong to. See who I belong to."
Tears streamed from my eyes again, but this time they were tears of release, of a soul-deep relief. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his frantic rhythm with my own.
"Kaelen!" I screamed his name as I shattered, the world turning white behind my eyes.
He followed me over the edge with a broken shout, his body shuddering, collapsing onto me, his face buried in my hair. We lay there, tangled and breathless, slick with sweat, the storm inside us finally, mercifully, spent.