You didn’t plan on following him into the dark. You swore you wouldn’t. But when Mattheo walked headfirst into something reckless, you couldn’t leave him to go in alone.

“You did what?” Mattheo barked.

“ I joined,” you said simply. “Because I couldn’t leave you alone in it.”

For a beat he stared like you’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world. Then he laughed—short, incredulous. “You’re supposed to hate me, not follow me into hell.”

You swallowed around the way your chest hurt. “I tried hating you. It didn’t work.”

The laugh died; his face went crooked with something like grief. “Bloody hell… I didn’t want you like this.” He stepped closer, every inch of him dangerous and honest. “I didn’t want you to be burned by my mess.”

“You’re not the only one allowed to be reckless, Mattheo,” you told him, and the truth in it steadied you. “I chose this.”

There was a fierceness in him now that had nothing to do with bravado. “I’d burn it all down if it meant you’d walk away right now,” he admitted, voice low enough for only you to hear.

You let the words hang between you. “We both know it’s too late for that,” you said.