Elias hadn't slept much.
Not because of nightmares—but because of her.
Selena had left just before dawn, her last glance lingering on him like a vow. She didn't ask for anything. Not forgiveness. Not love. Just a chance.
Now, the flower shop was open again. Sunlight filtered through the front windows, illuminating petals and soft leaves. There was warmth again in the air, even if his hands still trembled when he touched the soil.
He clipped a stem absently.
Then the bell above the door chimed.
Selena stood in the entrance—dressed casually, with her coat off and her hair loosely tied back. She held a cup of coffee in each hand.
"I didn't know if you were still mad at me," she said, holding one cup out to him.
He took it.
"I'm not mad," Elias said quietly. "Just… overwhelmed."
"That's fair."
They stood there for a moment in the soft morning light. No knives. No threats. Just a woman and a man, trying to learn the edges of each other again.
"I meant everything I said last night," Selena told him. "Even if you're not ready to believe it yet."
Elias looked down into the coffee.
"I want to," he murmured. "But I'm scared."
She stepped closer—not to dominate him this time, but to be present. Grounding.
"Then start with something small," she said. "Like trusting me to keep your family safe."
He hesitated. "What if I do… and they still get hurt?"
Selena's jaw tensed slightly. "Then I'd never forgive myself. But I wouldn't stop until the ones who tried were buried and forgotten."
There was something terrifying in how calmly she said it. But Elias didn't flinch this time.
Because for the first time, her darkness didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like a shield.
They walked together that afternoon.
Not to a hidden lair or a flower market, but just through the streets—hoods up, sunglasses on. Selena didn't hold his hand, but she walked close enough that their shoulders brushed.
He caught glimpses of the real her now. Not just the crime queen or the woman who pinned him to the wall—but the tired soul beneath the armor.
Selena paused outside a small park, eyes lingering on a child playing with her father.
"My father died when I was ten," she said suddenly. "Car bomb. Meant for someone else. Wrong place, wrong time."
Elias turned to her. "I didn't know."
"I stopped believing in safety after that." She looked at him, voice quieter now. "But being with you makes me want to believe in it again."
Elias's chest tightened.
He reached out—hesitating for a split second—then touched her fingers.
Selena froze.
His voice was soft. "Then let me remind you what safety feels like."
She didn't move. Didn't smile.
But she laced her fingers through his.
And for the first time in years, she let someone hold her without suspicion.
That night, Elias locked the flower shop door, heart calmer than it had been in weeks.
Selena had walked him home. She didn't come in—just watched until he closed the gate behind him. The kind of silent protector no one else could see.
But as he reached his room and looked out the window, something caught his eye.
A dark figure, across the street.
Still. Watching.
Gone in an instant.
His chest clenched—but not with panic this time.
Because he had her number now. And her voice echoed in his memory:
"They won't lay a finger on them or you.I swear it"
He grabbed his phone.
Elias: Someone was watching from across the street.
She replied in seconds.
Selena: I'm sending someone. Stay inside. I've got you.
And for once… he believed it.