Ruthless Savior

A shudder wracked my chest.

He’s hurt, I reminded myself. He’s hurt and scared. I can make this better. I can make him better.

Steeling myself, I softened in his grip. I didn’t try to touch him again, but he needed to see that I wasn’t fighting him. I wasn’t trying to get away.

“Before you do whatever you plan to do to me, please tell me what happened.” It was a quiet, meek request. If I was combative, he would retreat further into his ire. I might lose him entirely.

My heart twisted at the thought.

I gathered my courage. I would do whatever it took to erase his pain. He’d done the same for me—protecting me, sheltering me. It broke me to see him like this, and it seemed that I was somehow the cause of his anguish.

His face didn’t shift from its stony rigidity, but he responded on a growl. “You want me to list your crimes before I punish you? Fine. You betrayed me. Again.” He choked on the added word, but he swallowed hard and continued on. “You tried to escape, when you knew the consequences for your defiance. I spared you the first time. The second time, I obviously didn’t handle you as forcefully as I should have. I won’t make the same mistake a third time.”

“I didn’t try to escape!”

His eyes narrowed, so I quickly switched to reason rather than protest. “You saw for yourself. I did what you asked. I stayed in the house. I even locked myself in. You had to break down the door, remember? I didn’t try to leave.”

“You were trying to keep me out!” he shouted, his tenuous control fraying. “An extra precaution, in case the police weren’t able to arrest me.” A vindictive grin twisted his lips. “You and Isabel underestimated me. You thought you could tell her your story—that I’m your cruel captor—and she’d make sure the cops learned of my crime. You both thought they’d drag me from my home and lock me away, where I could never touch you again. But you didn’t understand how much of a monster I truly am. Even the authorities fear me. They didn’t dare arrest me. And now, you’re the one caged and helpless. I won’t bother pretending otherwise. Not anymore. You’ve always known what I am, and you’ve always hated me for it.”

I closed my eyes against a wash of pain, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks. He wouldn’t believe me if I insisted that I didn’t hate him. He’d heard it before—he’d believed me before—but now, he was too lost to his anguish to allow himself to truly hear me.

If I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t hate him, I would show him. Whatever happened next, whatever he needed from me, I would accept him.

Because I never wanted to leave him. The decision had settled in my heart after my conversation with Isabel yesterday. I was choosing to stay with Raúl.

He always struggled to express himself with words. His language was touch, and I was determined to make him hear me.

I needed him to hear the three words that’d filled my heart to bursting, but I’d been holding them in for far too long: I love you.

Now wasn’t the time to utter my promise aloud. He wouldn’t believe a single word I said, and I couldn’t bear for him to think my declaration of love was a lie. If that thought cut into his mind in this moment of fury and pain, it might scar permanently.

I took a deep breath, knowing that what I was about to say would trigger his next actions. “I did tell Isabel about what’s happened between us, but I only did it to explain that I want to be with you. She was worried about me, and she must’ve decided to tell the police because she thought she was helping me. I didn’t know what she planned to do. I didn’t try to escape, Raúl. I didn’t try to leave you.”

His jade eyes turned as cold as polished stone, and an ominous, icy control encased the fiery rage that’d consumed him.

“You’ve always known I’m not a good man. You’ve always known I’m a monster.”

My heart twisted, but I bit my lip to hold in my protests. The only way for me to make him see the truth was to show him: You’re not a monster. I trust you. I love you.

“But you don’t have the slightest understanding of how evil I really am. Your lies made me weak. I’ve been holding back. I am not kind. I am not gentle. I take what I want, and I have no mercy. No guilt or regret. My only regret now is that I didn’t claim you sooner.”

A hot tear rolled down my cheek, but it wasn’t for me. I cried for him, finally understanding the agonizing extent of his self-loathing. He’d let me see the best of him—the goodness that even he didn’t believe was real.