Zoya pov

The need to fix this claws at my stomach. I fucked up. Somewhere between him locking me in this room and him shooting his guard who hurt me, the lines blurred. I don’t want to leave. I know Nik will hunt me down, but it’s more than that. He provides a safety that was ripped away from me when my father died. I press my face against the warm skin of his back. He remains rigid, a statue carved from resentment and lust, but he doesn’t shake me off. That has to count for something.