Dylan flinched as if she had physically struck him. The word hung in the cold air, sharper than any of the threats Matteo had leveled at him earlier that day.
"A divorce?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "Stasia, I just got you back. After four years of wondering if you were even alive, I have you in my house. We can fix this. We can move, change our names for real this time..."
"With what money, Dylan? The money my father gave you?" She cut him off, her eyes hard and dry.
"You're talking about running again. I've spent my entire life being moved from one fortress to another, from one man's protection to another's obsession. I don't want to run. I want to be finished. With all of you."
She stepped around the kitchen island, closing the distance between them until she could see the pulse jumping in his neck. He looked so small compared to the monsters she had grown used to over the months. But bigger than the boy she once knew him to be.
