One hundred and sixty

Nicholas's POV;

"I hate you . . . If you love me, don't do this . . ."

As I picked up her unconscious body, Talia's words echoed in my mind, repeating over and over like a glitchy record. I knew it shouldn't hurt this much, but it did. With just a couple of sentences, she somehow managed to flay me open, to break through the wall that had encased me since Sydney's death—the wall that had enabled me to keep a distance from everyone and everything except her.

She didn't truly hate me. I knew that. She wanted me. She loved me or, at the very least, thought she did. Once all of this was over, we were going to go back to the life we've had for the past couple of months, except I will feel better, more secured. Less afraid of losing her.

"If you love me, don't do this . . ."