Blade

Chapter 77: The Certainty of us

Blade

Therapy is a foreign world, a place for weak people who can’t face their own ghosts. It feels like admitting defeat in a world that doesn’t forgive it, that doesn’t want it, that sneers at the very notion.

It is a luxury for the fragile and the pathetic, something they buy to survive the terror inside themselves. A confession booth for cowards, a place to spill your fears because you can’t hold them any longer.

That was all therapy meant to me, all I allowed it to be. I despised it. I laughed at it. I avoided it like poison.

But then Sienna came into my life. She chose me. She loved every flawed, broken, fucked-up piece of me as if it were beautiful. And because of her, I started to look into the mirror. I began to trace the cracks in my soul, the ones I had spent years denying. I started to feel the weight of the parts of myself I’d buried, the rage, the fear, the shame. And slowly, painfully, I realized that staring at them didn’t make me weaker. It made me alive.

Therapy is no longer a joke to me. It is a weapon, a way to sharpen myself against the world. It is messy, and it hurts, and it is terrifying—but maybe, just maybe, it is the only way I can stop being haunted by myself.

And that is why for the past two months I have had to sit in an office with a therapist while she tries to untangle my trauma, offer whatever psychoeducation she believes will help, and walk me through every coping strategy she thinks I need, all while I try not to lose my mind in the process.

It is a difficult and agonizing process, but if I want to grow, if I want my relationship with Sienna to thrive and if I want to learn how to love myself the right way, I have to push through it.

The first few weeks after everything that happened with Marcello and Vladimir, I barely spoke to anyone except Sienna. We spent entire days in my room, wrapped in each other’s arms, refusing to let go while our wounds healed, both the ones on our bodies and the ones buried deeper.

The Armani empire faced several serious problems during that time. Franco and Nico took control because my mind was nowhere close to sane. They managed the fallout from the betrayal within our own ranks, the territory disputes sparked by Marcello’s allies, and the financial strain caused by the damaged shipments. They also opened negotiations with two of our old rivals, forming temporary alliances to keep our enemies from circling while I was recovering.

Now that I finally feel like myself again, I’ve started handling the problems myself, tightening our security, strengthening our alliances and restructuring the inner circle. I’ve also stepped back into the political dealings that were waiting for me, meeting with officials about law enforcement pressure on our routes, and the senators pushing new bills that could threaten our operations if I don’t redirect them fast.

It's been a hectic two months, but Sienna's presence has made it all worthwhile.

"Who is this?"

All my thoughts scatter, and my gaze lands on Sienna. She wears a black bodysuit tucked into straight-leg jeans, a leather jacket thrown over it, and heeled ankle boots that make her stance even more commanding. Her blonde hair is styled in a high half-up, half-down do, and her smoky eye makeup gives her a dangerous, magnetic edge.

Sometimes I remind myself how lucky I am to have her. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it; she is exquisite. She owns every inch of me, every fragment of my obsession.

"Blade, you with me?" She snaps her fingers in front of my face, yanking me back to reality.

I nod absentmindedly, sliding both hands into the pockets of my tailored black pants. Fuck, I’m completely gone for her.