The started asking for accountability after that.
Not for the big things. Not for the bodies in the basement or the enemies in the river or the empire built on blood and fear.
For the small things.
The things that shouldn't have mattered.
Why did you look at her?
Why did you come home late?
Why didn't you answer your phone?
Why are you so quiet?
Why don't you touch me the way you used to?
Damien answered each question. Patiently. Carefully. The way he answered everything now.
But the questions kept coming.
And each one was a small cut.
And small cuts, left untreated, became wounds.
---
"Where were you last Tuesday?"
They were in bed. The city was dark. Her hand was on his chest.
"I was at the office."
"All night?"
"There was a situation."
"What kind of situation?"
"Business."
"What kind of business?"
He turned his head. Looked at her.
"The kind you don't need to know about."
---
She sat up.
The sheet fell away from her body.
"I'm your partner."
"I know."
"Partners don't keep secrets."
"Partners also trust each other."
"I do trust you."
"Then stop asking questions you already know the answers to."
She stared at him.
"I don't know the answers."
"You do." He sat up too. Faced her. "You know I was at the office. You know there was a situation. You know I handled it. That's all you need to know."
"That's not enough."
"It has to be."
"Why?"
"Because if I tell you more, you'll want to be involved. And you can't be involved right now."
"Because I'm pregnant."
"Because you're growing our daughter." He touched her stomach. "Because every time you leave this penthouse, I'm afraid you won't come back."
"I always come back."
"You didn't. That night at the hotel."
"I came back the next morning."
"After I came to get you."
---
She was quiet for a moment.
The baby kicked.
"She's listening," Christabel said.
"I know."
"She can feel the tension between us."
"I know."
"It's not good for her."
"Then stop creating tension."
She pulled away.
"Stop blaming me."
"I'm not blaming you."
"You are." She got out of bed. Walked to the window. "Every time I ask a question, you act like I'm attacking you. I'm not attacking you. I'm trying to understand."
"Understand what?"
"Understand why you're so far away."
---
He got out of bed.
Walked to her.
Stood behind her. Didn't touch her.
"I'm not far away."
"You are." She turned to face him. "You're right here. In this room. In this building. But you're not here. Not really."
"I'm trying."
"Trying isn't enough."
"It has to be."
"Why?"
"Because it's all I have."
---
She touched his face.
"I need you to be honest with me."
"I'm always honest."
"Then tell me the truth."
"What truth?"
"The truth about why you're so afraid."
---
He was quiet for a long moment.
The city hummed below them.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed and faded.
"I'm afraid of losing you," he said finally.
"You're not going to lose me."
"I'm afraid of hurting you."
"You've never hurt me."
"I'm afraid of becoming the man I used to be."
She looked at him.
"What man was that?"
"The man who didn't care about anything. Who didn't love anyone. Who had nothing to lose."
"And now?"
"Now I have everything to lose. And I don't know how to protect it."
---
She pulled him into her arms.
Held him tight.
"You protect it by being here," she said. "By being present. By being honest. By not hiding from me."
"I'm not hiding."
"You are." She pulled back. Looked at him. "You're hiding behind the baby. Behind the empire. Behind the idea that you have to be strong all the time."
"I am strong."
"I know." She touched his face. "But strength isn't about never being afraid. It's about being afraid and doing it anyway."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to trust me."
"I do trust you."
"Then let me in."
---
He kissed her.
Not gently.
The way she remembered.
She kissed him back the same way.
But when he tried to carry her to bed, she stopped him.
"Not yet," she said.
"What?"
"I want you to tell me something first."
"What?"
"Tell me about the situation. At the office. Last Tuesday."
"Christabel—"
"Tell me."
He looked at her.
His eyes were dark.
"There was a man. He was asking questions about you. About where you live. About when you're alone."
She went still.
"What did you do?"
"I handled it."
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
"What did you do?"
"I made him understand that asking questions about you was a bad idea."
"How?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I broke his fingers. One by one. Until he told me who sent him."
"Who sent him?"
"I don't know. He didn't know. He was just a messenger."
"And then?"
"And then I let him go."
---
She stared at him.
"You let him go?"
"He wasn't a threat anymore."
"He knew where I live."
"He knew where we used to live. I moved you the next day."
"Moved me?"
"The penthouse. The one we're in now. It's not the same one."
She looked around the room.
The furniture was the same. The view was the same. The garden on the roof was the same.
"It looks the same."
"That was the point."
---
She was quiet for a long moment.
The baby kicked.
"You moved us without telling me."
"I was protecting you."
"You lied to me."
"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you."
"That's the same thing."
"No." He stepped closer. "Lying is saying something that isn't true. Not telling you is... omission."
"Omission is lying."
"Christabel—"
"You should have told me."
"I know."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of you wanting to leave. Of you realizing that being with me means never being safe."
---
She looked at him.
Her eyes were wet.
"I already knew that."
"Did you?"
"Yes." She touched his face. "I knew it the night I got in your car. I knew it the first time I killed for you. I knew it when I said yes to your proposal."
"Then why are you so angry?"
"Because you didn't trust me with the truth."
"I trust you with my life."
"I don't want your life. I want your honesty."
---
He pulled her into his arms.
Held her tight.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know."
"I'm sorry for hiding. For omitting. For not telling you."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I know." He pulled back. Looked at her. "But I am anyway."
She kissed him.
Softly.
The way she kissed him when she wasn't trying to prove anything.
"Just tell me next time," she said.
"I will."
"Promise?"
He kissed her forehead.
"I promise."