Page 56 of His Dark Cravings

“You don’t have to talk,” she says. “But I’m here if you need me.”

I don’t say anything. Can’t say anything. The words burn in my throat, tangled with tears and anger and sorrow. I bury my face deeper, hoping to disappear.

Winter shifts slightly. “I knew someone once,” she begins, her tone steady, like she’s recounting a story she’s told a thousand times before. “She was smart, ambitious, the kind of woman who believed in control, in order. She built an empire, piece by piece, brick by brick. She thought she was above it all, untouchable.”

I listen, barely breathing, as her words paint a picture in the dark of my mind.

“She lost it all. Not just the empire, not just the money—everything. Her pride, her confidence, her sense of self. She thought she was a warrior, but in the end, she was just broken. And she didn’t know how to be broken. She didn’t know how to ask for help, how to let go.”

Winter’s voice is calm, but there’s something beneath it, a quiet understanding, a shared pain.

“She learned, though. She had to. She learned that sometimes, the only way to survive is to let someone else hold you, even when it feels like you’re drowning. Even when it feels like you’re losing. I used to know her. I used to be her.”

She pauses, the silence stretching between us. I’m aware of her body, warm and steady, a quiet anchor in the storm.

“I know how it feels,” she says softly. “To be used, to be lied to, to have someone you love break you. I know what it’s like to think you’re alone in it, to think there’s no way out.”

I feel a sob well up, but it catches in my throat, heavy and aching. I don’t know what to say. I don’t have the words. So I just lay there, silent and shaking, while Winter sits beside me.

She doesn’t push me. Doesn’t try to fix it. She just sits. Like she understands that sometimes, the only thing you can do is be there. And for the first time in a long, long time, I feel a flicker of comfort in the darkness.

Winter’s hand settles on my back, her touch light but firm. She strokes me slowly, rhythmically, like she’s trying to tug the pain out of me with each pass. I cry until I’m raw, until my lungs ache and my body feels heavy, like it’s sinking into the mattress. Slowly, the sobs taper off, leaving behind a hollow, echoing silence.

When I finally quiet, Winter stops, her hand resting between my shoulder blades. I lay still, my head pressing into the pillow, the tears cooling on my cheeks.

“Xavier didn’t take you because he wanted to own you,” Winter says after taking a deep breath, her voice smooth, unemotional. “He took you because he wanted to free you.”

I frown, too exhausted to figure out what she's trying to say. “What are you talking about?” I mumble.

She hesitates. “Xavier knew about you before you ever set foot in this house.”

I twist onto my side, wiping my face with the heel of my hand. “What do you mean?”

Winter continues calmly. “He told us—in the beginning, before you came—he told us about Talon. About the debt. About the way he used you.”

My breath catches. “How did he know?”

“Because Xavier looks into everyone who comes into his world,” she says matter-of-factly. “He knew Talon was reckless, that he gambled beyond his means. He knew Talon would use you to save himself.”

I sit up slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. “So Xavier... he knew all along?”

“Yes.” Her voice is steady. “And he knew you didn’t have the money to cover the debt. But he also knew you’d try to pay it anyway.”

I feel a wave of nausea rise, the room spinning around me. “Why would he do that? Why would he set this up?”

“Because he wanted you to see the truth,” Winter says, her tone still calm, still measured. “He wanted you to realize what Talon is. He wanted you to be free of him.”

I laugh, the sound brittle and empty. “Free? You call this free?”

Winter’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You were never free, Everly. You were chained to Talon long before Xavier ever stepped into your life. Xavier just gave you a different kind of chain—one that could break the first.”

I sit in stunned silence. I think of all the times I’d bailed Talon out, all the times I’d lied for him, covered for him, sacrificed for him. I think of the way Xavier looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he pushed me. And I wonder—if everything Winter is saying is true, what does that mean? For Xavier? For me?

Winter stands. “He didn’t do it to hurt you,” she says before she turns to leave. “He did it to save you.”

The door closes behind her, and I’m left alone in the dark again.

Well, no, that's not true.

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