You didn’t find out by accident.

There was no dramatic reveal. No mask ripped off. No chase through the dark.

You figured it out because you paid attention.

The bruises that didn’t make sense. The way he disappeared for hours. The casual way he talked about death—too casual for someone who’d never touched it.

And when the truth finally landed, it didn’t explode.

It settled.

Heavy. Cold. Real.

Adrian Chase was a killer.

Not metaphorically. Not hypothetically.

Actually.

You sat across from him on the couch, knees pulled up, hands clenched together so tight your fingers hurt.

He was rambling—nervous, fast, too many words.

“—and I know this sounds bad, but like, statistically I’ve saved way more people than I’ve—” He stopped when he noticed your face.

“…you already know,” he said.

You nodded.

The room felt too quiet.

Adrian swallowed. “You’re not screaming.”

“No,” you said.

“You’re not calling the cops.”

“No.”

He laughed weakly. “That’s usually a bad sign, by the way.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

The fidgeting hands. The forced smile. The fear he tried so hard to hide behind jokes.

“I know what you are,” you said quietly.

Adrian flinched.

“And?” he asked.

You took a breath. Your chest hurt.

“You’re violent,” you said. “You enjoy it sometimes. You scare people. You scare me.”

He nodded, eyes glossy. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“But you’re also the guy who checks if I locked my door,” you continued. “The guy who remembers how I take my coffee. The guy who stayed up all night when I had a panic attack and didn’t make a single joke.”

Adrian’s voice cracked. “You shouldn’t be saying this.”

“I know,” you said. “Because this is the part where I’m supposed to leave.”

Silence.

He stared at the floor.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said softly. “I don’t deserve… normal people. Or love. Or—”

You interrupted him.

“I’m not choosing you because you’re good,” you said.

He looked up, startled.

“I’m choosing you because I know,” you said. “And I’m still here.”

His breath hitched.

“You’re allowed to walk away,” he said, almost pleading. “You should.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not blind,” you said. “I’m not naïve. I’m not pretending you’re something you’re not.”

You reached for his hand. He froze, then let you take it.

“I choose you,” you said again. “Anyway.”

Adrian laughed once, broken and shaky.

“You’re insane,” he whispered.

“Probably,” you said. “But so are you.”

His grip tightened around your fingers like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“I don’t know how to be better,” he said.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you replied. “You just have to try. And let me stay.”

For the first time, Adrian didn’t make a joke.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m scared I’ll ruin you,” he admitted.