“Breathe.”

Luna was clenching her hands so tightly her nails had left indentations in her aching palms. So engrossed in what she was saying, she hadn’t felt the pain until Kit’s voice filtered in and brought her back to the present.

She never talked about the day she left him to anyone—she didn’t like to think about it. Because just as it had now, it only pained her in a way that it felt like her heart was breaking all over again.

As she looked at him sitting across from her, she could remember his visceral reaction to the knowledge that she was leaving him.

His anger and the ensuing rage he’d taken out on his possessions played in her ears as though it was happening all over again.

Luna wanted to feel that anger, that all consuming rage that had lit her up inside, but she only felt tired.

Drained.

She was just ready for this to be over.

Dr. Marie was looking back and forth between them, and despite her composure, she seemed at a loss for what to say.

“A moment, please,” Kit said to her, without taking his eyes from Luna.

It didn’t matter that this wasn’t his office, that he had no right to command Dr. Marie to do anything, but in that tone of his, Luna would be surprised if someone hadn’t heeded his command.

A part of her was eager for Donna to leave, if only so they were alone. When had she started to want that? She had been running, evading him for so long now that it all felt like a blur of unhappiness.

Not even three weeks ago, she had wanted to avoid him at all costs, to prevent herself from falling back under his spell. It seemed only fitting that it was the Den—Uilleam and everything that came with him—that brought them back together again.

She didn’t know what she had come to expect by the end of this session. No part of her since the moment they stepped into this room believed that their problems would magically resolve themselves should they make it to the end of their hour.

Yes, there was more clarity and for once she felt like she was getting a broader view of that complicated head of his.

For the last hour, she finally felt like she understood him, though the notion baffled her considering she’d thought she had known him pretty well.

Or at least known him enough to make vows on the sunny shores of a beach in Bora Bora.

Kit stood the second Donna was out of the room, the door clicking shut quietly behind her. But he didn’t cross to her and invade her space, making demands.

Instead, he sat on the table directly in front of her, hands resting on his knees as he regarded her.

She hadn’t noticed at first, too lost in the tales of their love and heartbreak to see the change that had come over him.

In his quest to get her back, he had been kinder, gentler even than he had ever been in the years she had known him. And even during this session, he had offered secrets she was sure he wouldn’t give had she asked for them.

But, just as she had when she’d swallowed her pride and gone to see him to help Celt, that darker almost demanding side of him was now bleeding through—more so than ever.

She didn’t like it, not when it felt like he was breaking her will.

“What do you want, Kit?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. She remained rooted in place, locked in his gaze.

“You,” he said in return, with absolute conviction. “But we both know this. The question is, what do you want, mi pequeña luna.”

How long had it been since he had used that pet name for her?

Just the sound of it made her ache for him. All the strength and resilience she had built up over the last several months undone by three little words.

Before when he had asked her that question, the answer was easy.

She wanted away from him.

She wanted to never see his face again.

And more than anything, she had wanted him to hurt the way he hurt her.

It ached when she left him, like someone had taken a knife to her chest and carved, but the spiteful side of her knew that it hurt him more.

“I didn’t know it was because of Uilleam,” she said, reminded of his words. “When I found out you had accepted a contract with my mother, I …”

“You thought I was trying to hurt you?”

Luna shook her head. “Not in the way you mean.” She knew he would never do something like that, not purposely. “I thought you were trying to make a point—teach me a lesson—that business was separate from what we have—had.”

He noticed her slip, but he didn’t call her on it. “There are rules, even ones that I can’t break. It’s not about the enemy in front of you, it’s the one standing at your back that you can’t see. And if you think for a fucking moment that she’s not going to answer for what she did to you, then perhaps I haven’t shown you what you mean to me enough.”

No, she knew, though the notion might have slipped her mind in the midst of her hurt.

There wasn’t a single person that she could think of that hadn’t answered for the part they played in her being here, in this moment.

Not her father.

Not the men that had taken her to the warehouse.

Not Lawrence and his friends.

Uilleam too.

Even Kit, though it was she that was punishing him for his part, though now she wondered if he was punishing himself by keeping his distance.

“Who told you about the contract?” he asked, gaze searching her face.

“Does it matter?”

“To me? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

Though she wasn’t sure why it mattered, Luna told him anyway. “Someone of the Den.”

“Luna.”

“I don’t remember his name,” she said quickly, hearing the thread of impatience in his voice. “And he didn’t tell me, per se. He was talking about working a job out in California and happened to mention ‘the facilitator’ being out there as well working with the Contreras Cartel. I just happened to overhear him.”

“A coincidence then,” he stated, but he didn’t sound like he believed that at all. “So you’re not still in contact with Belladonna?”

Belladonna.

She hadn’t heard the name in years, not that she had given the woman much thought after the last time she saw her. Too lost in her own raging emotions.

“Why are you asking about her?” Luna asked. “You want to punish her for leading me to the truth?”

“I find it curious that she knew the truth at all, don’t you?”

No, Luna had never considered how the woman she knew. Despite how vast their world seemed to be at times, it was also incredibly small.

“But no, to answer your question, I don’t plan on harming her for telling you. You would have found out soon enough if Uilleam had had his way.” Kit took a breath, his phone’s vibrations cutting into their moment, but he ignored it.

That ache that had always been there where he was concerned flared again. “Kit.”

He looked at her when she said his name, and before she even had a mind to do it, she was reaching for him, finally giving in to her desire to touch him.

Over the span of an hour, she had relived every wonderful and terrible moment they shared together. When he had asked for permission weeks ago when she walked into his restaurant, kissing her in a way that reminded her that her heart was not her own, her guard had still been firmly locked in place.

Now, she felt naked. Exposed. Bare for him.

The anger was gone, she realized. Her annoyance with him had ceased the somewhere along the way and now she just hurt.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, taking her hand in his and turning it over, running the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin at her wrist.

“I want you to fix it,” she answered, giving him the very thing he had asked of her before she had walked away.

“I will,” he said. A promise. “But I can’t promise in my quest to do it, you won’t get hurt again.”

“What?”

He held fast when she tried to pull away, his strength irresistible. “You have a job to do,” he said, “and I have my own.”

“But why does that matter now?”

That was the point of this therapy session, she thought. It was to resolve this.

“Uilleam has set things into motion that can’t be stopped—deals have been made. This, whatever this is with Carmen, needs to be seen through. And right now, we have to play the game the way it was set up.”

“But why?”

Kit’s lips quirked at the corner, almost a smile. “There are more players on the field.”

Luna sighed, collapsing back against her chair. “I’m so fucking tired of the games.”

“It’ll end soon enough.”

But not before she, or he, or they both got hurt by the end of it.

With all games, there was always a loser in the end.