Page 43 of Betrayed By Sin
He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks away like he doesn’t want me to see the truth in it.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, but it’s a poor attempt at deflection.
“You’re not.” I brush my thumb gently over the hollow beneath his eye. “You look… tired. Like bone-deep tired.”
He exhales through his nose, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “What gave it away?”
“Everything,” I say. “All of you.”
Without a word, he shifts closer and lowers his head into my lap like he’s done it a hundred times. My fingers move to his hair, brushing through it in slow, rhythmic strokes.
“I hate that they have you,” he says after a beat, voice muffled against my leg. “But I’m glad you have family. You deserve that.” I pause, surprised by the honesty in his voice.
“I didn’t think I would,” I admit quietly. “Feel like I belonged. But… it’s starting to happen. There’s a lot of them, cousins and aunts, uncles.”
His eyes stay shut, but his brows twitch like he's processing it.
“I’m happy for you,” he says eventually. “I mean that. Even if I want to tear their world apart.”
I laugh softly under my breath. “You already did.”
“That was the watered-down version,” he murmurs, almost asleep. “You’re the only thing that kept me from burning the whole city.”
His words land heavy in the quiet. I don’t know how to respond, so I just keep running my fingers through his hair, letting silence speak where words can’t.
“Are you safe?” he asks, a trace of worry still laced through his fading voice.
“With them?” I nod, a small grin tracing my lips. “I am.”
His breath evens out, warm against my thigh. Eventually, he falls asleep, the soft rhythm of his chest rising and falling a lullaby that calms my racing thoughts.
Sin is still asleep in my lap, his head angled toward my stomach, one arm draped across the cushion like he’s subconsciously reaching for me even in sleep. I admire him, one hand combing gently through his hair, the other resting on his back. For once, his face is unguarded. None of the tension he wears like armor. Just him.
Vulnerable. Quiet. Safe.
And tired.
God, he’s tired.
Even now, I can see it, the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the dullness at the corners of his mouth. Like the fire that keeps him running is finally starting to eat away at the edges.
He’s only at peace when he’s here. With me.
The weight of that thought settles like a stone in my chest.
Carefully, I shift my legs, sliding out from beneath him. He stirs but doesn’t wake. I reach for the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and tuck it around his shoulders. He exhales softly, curling into it.
I hover for a second, watching him. The man everyone fears. The one who never bends.
Fast asleep in the living room like he doesn’t know how to carry it all anymore.
I press a kiss to his hair before tiptoeing down the hallway.
The bathroom is cool and quiet. I splash water on my face, the chill biting against the heat that’s been building in my chest since I got here. Every time I think I’m out of this war, the love I have for him drags me back in, through him. Through the history I never asked to inherit.
I dry my hands and make my way through the darkened hall, memories brushing past me like ghosts, nights here with Sin and Bria, evenings curled in the office that’s more library than workspace.
My fingers graze the edge of the arched doorway as I admire the room at night, golden wall sconces casting soft light.
