Page 116 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir
His brows draw together. “Leah.”
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He stands slowly. Crosses to me with that same war-mind grace I remember—the way he moves like he’s always tracking exits and threats even when there aren’t any.
When he’s close, he drops his voice to something only I can hear.
“Talk to me.”
I force the words out. “I’ve been scared every day since he was born.”
His jaw tenses. But he listens.
“Not of him. Of what loving him means. Of what itcosts. Every time he laughed too loud, I flinched. Every time someone lingered too long near the gate, I saw blood in my head. I kept our lives stitched tight around invisibility, because I knew if the world saw him, they’d want him. Use him. Like they usedyou.”
“I know,” he says.
“Every time I looked at him, I thought about you.”
“I hoped you would.”
“No, Kalev. Not in a way that brought comfort. In a way that made megrieve. Because I couldn’t keep you both. Icouldn’t.And I was so damn sure I’d lose him too.”
He reaches out. Touches my elbow. Not soft. Just steady.
“And now?”
I shake my head again. “Now I don’t knowwhatto feel.”
He nods like that’s fair. Then: “The war already took its cut.”
I blink at him.
“It doesn’t get another,” he says.
I laugh. One sharp, disbelieving exhale. “You think we get tochoosethat?”
“Yes,” he says. “Now we do.”
I stare at him.
At the worn face and battle-mapped arms and the shape of him still familiar in ways that twist me.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we stop waiting for the next fracture.”
“You want—what, a white picket fence?”
“I want a future with you. Withhim.With doors that stay unlocked because we’re not planning to run. With routines. And names. And contingency plans that don’t end in blood.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“I’mdeciding.”
God.
It’s too much.
