What We Left in the Dark

Twenty Eight

Giancarlo's kiss was fierce, possessive, and consuming. Every movement of his mouth on mine spoke volumes of the desperation he'd been holding back. He clutched me as though he needed me like air—like his very life depended on me. I could feel the years of longing, of anger, of restraint breaking apart between us. His fingers twisted deeper into my hair, his body pressing into mine with a force that sent my mind reeling.

When he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. "You don't understand," he whispered against my lips, his breath ragged. "You have no idea how much I've needed you. Every second away from you felt like drowning. I needed you like water in the desert, like something I couldn't live without, Cat."

His words should have broken me, should have softened the sharp edges between us. But instead, they only fueled my confusion and frustration. I pushed him back, breaking the kiss with a gasp, trying to steady myself. "Then why?" I demanded, my voice trembling with anger. "Why was it so easy for you to walk away? Why was it so easy for you to distance yourself from me, if I'm the person you've needed so badly?"

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breathing. His face twisted into a grimace, and for a moment, I saw the struggle within him, the battle between wanting to tell me the truth and wanting to protect himself.

"Easy?" he echoed, his voice harsh, almost a growl. He raked his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, his movements jagged, raw. "You think any of this has been easy for me, Catalina? You think it didn't rip me apart to leave you?"

I held my ground, despite the urge to soften at the sight of his torment. "You left me, Giancarlo. You made the choice to walk away, and you never came back. If I was so important, if I was everything you needed, why didn't you fight for me?"

"It wasn't a choice, amor. I fought for you in a way I pray you'll never know," his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, "I didn't want to risk you seeing the part of me I never wish to show you. The part of me I can never forgive."

I blinked, the weight of his words settling over me like a cold wave. "What are you talking about?" I whispered, suddenly unsure of where this was going.

He took a step back, as though the distance might help him breathe, help him gather himself. He paced the room like a caged animal, his hands gripping his hair again before he let them drop to his sides in defeat.

"I did things, Cat," he said, his voice rough and raw. "Things you can't even imagine. Things I can't forgive myself for, and I know you won't be able to forgive either." His eyes flashed with something dark, something primal. "I kept that part of me away from you because I couldn't risk you looking at me differently. I couldn't risk you seeing the monster I've become."

The air in the room grew thick, the tension between us more suffocating than ever before. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process what he was saying, the depth of his confession unraveling in front of me.

"Giancarlo..." I started, but he cut me off, his voice rising.

"You think I could come back to you? You think I could come back and let you love someone who's done the things I've done? I stayed away because I was protecting you. I couldn't drag you into my mess."

He took another step toward me, his movements filled with a animalistic prowl. "You were too good, too pure. You were the one thing I couldn't taint, Cat. The one person I had to keep away from all of it."

I shook my head, my hands trembling at my sides. "You don't get to decide that for me," I said, my voice breaking. "You don't get to decide who I love or what I can handle."

"You don't understand," he repeated, his tone softer now, almost pleading. "The things I've done... I've killed for them, for my family, for people who don't even deserve it. I've hurt people—innocent people. And I'll do it again, because that's who I am now. I can't be that person with you. I won't."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words crashing down on me. The man standing in front of me wasn't the same Giancarlo I had loved. He had changed. He had become something darker, something colder. And yet, there was a part of him that still burned for me, that still saw me as his salvation, even if he believed he didn't deserve it.

"And that's why you stayed away?" I asked, my voice quieter now, the anger giving way to something else. "Because you didn't want me to see who you'd become?"

His eyes softened, just for a moment, as if the hardness in him cracked under the weight of my question. "Yes," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "I stayed away because I knew I couldn't bring you into that world. I knew if I came back sooner, you'd see it all. And I couldn't risk losing the one pure thing I had left."

The room was thick with the weight of his confession, and I could feel the rawness of his pain, his desperation, radiating off him in waves. He wasn't just protecting me from the darkness in his life—he was protecting himself from the possibility that I would never look at him the same way again.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek, his touch soft, almost reverent. "I didn't want you to see the ugliness in me, Cat. I didn't want you to see the man I had to become. I've done terrible things, but the worst part... the worst part is that I can't regret any of it, because it was for you. For us."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I had to steady myself against the overwhelming emotions coursing through me. He was laying it all bare—his sins, his pain, his love for me, twisted and warped by the choices he had made.

"And what now?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "You think I can just accept that? Accept everything you've done and pretend like none of it matters?"

He shook his head, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into mine. "No," he said softly. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect anything from you. But I couldn't stay away any longer. I couldn't keep pretending I don't need you, Cat. I need you like I need my next breath."

His words hung in the air and I felt the weight of them press against me, suffocating and yet intoxicating all at once. The truth was laid between us, binding us in ways I didn't know how to untangle.

"You're mine," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice full of a possessive certainty that sent a shiver down my spine. "You always have been. You always will be."

And as much as I wanted to fight him, to resist the pull he had on me, I couldn't deny the truth that lingered between us. Because no matter how much he had hurt me, no matter the darkness that had consumed him, a part of me still belonged to him.

And that terrified me more than anything.