Nightfall in New York (4)

At last Ethan left the terrace, his steps slow as he headed toward the master bedroom across the apartment. He gently opened the slightly ajar door with a gentle squeak. The chamber glowed softly with moonlight, creating long shadows over the floor.

Laying in the middle of the king-sized bed, her little shape nearly disappeared within the sea of blankets and pillows. Her chest rose and fell with every laboring breath, her breathing shallow. Her body remained tense while asleep, as though she were resisting some invisible force.

Ethan went gently toward the bed, his gaze never leaving her face. She seemed so brittle and breakable. Her presence in this state twisted something deep inside him—a emotion he wasn't ready to confront.

Reaching out, his fingers hung just over her forehead, he felt the heat radiating from her feverish skin. All night he had been suppressing guilt; now it surfaced and threatened to overwhelm him. He shoved it down, though, forcing it into the same dark area of his mind where he stored all the things he avoided considering.

Ethan forced himself to back off by closing his jaw and curling his palm into a fist. Losing control once more was unaffordable. Not now or never. For both their sakes, he had to be tough.

Turning, he moved stiffly and deliberately away from the bed. He stopped as he arrived at the gateway, looking back one final time at the woman who had somehow cracked the barriers he had spent years erecting.

"I'm sorry," he said, though the words hardly registered in his own ears let alone hers. Not when he was still struggling with the uncertainty of feelings that had rooted themselves inside him, but rather an apology he could not bring himself to express completely.

Ethan left the bedroom and quietly closed the door with a last, lingering glance. A reminder of the distance he had placed between them—both literally and emotionally—the click of the latch echoed in the silent hall.

Bringing her into his life seemed easy, a means of relieving the years of loneliness that had dogged him. She had, however, evolved far more than he had expected, and today the idea of losing her was intolerable. Still, he understood his world was not one in which someone like her could flourish. Dark, dangerous, and merciless it was.

Ethan retraced his steps to the balcony, where the cool night air greeted him like a friend. Though the city opened out before him, an unceasing sea of lights and life, it all felt far-off, unreachable. He was caught in his own universe, one he had created brick by brick, and now he doubted whether he would ever be able to get out.

Looking out into the night, the weight of his own choices pressed down on him. He had picked this life; every deed, every merciless choice had brought him to this place. Still, he asked himself for the first time whether he had chosen wisely.

Still, it was too late for questions. To turn back now he had come too far, given too much. All he could do was ahead, without regard to cost.

Ethan inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs, and with it the will he required to greet the next days. Though he had no idea what the future contained, he knew one thing: he would not let her go. Neither now nor never.

Ethan stayed on the balcony observing the city gradually come to life under him as the first light of dawn started to break over the horizon. A fresh day was dawning, and with it the possibility to right things—or to lose all he loved.

But he was Ethan Wright, and he would do all it took to guard what was his.

Even though it meant facing the worst aspects of herself.