Chapter 8- The Unforgivable

Ace's POV

She always touched me like she owned me, like her hands were a crown and my body was just a throne to sit on whenever she wanted to feel powerful again.

This time, she didn't even ask.

She closed the door, pulled her shirt over her head slowly, like seduction was her weapon and silence her audience.

But I didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

I just watched her undo her bra with practiced hands, breathing shallowly like this was routine, like using her body to pull strings was something she was born to do.

Her eyes dared me to look away.

I didn't.

Because I wanted her to see that she didn't make me flinch anymore.

She straddled me with nothing but skin and intention, her lips brushing against mine, her breath warm but meaningless.

She moaned when she kissed me—loud, fake, exaggerated, like a siren screaming for attention that I no longer wanted to give.

"Don't you miss me?" she whispered against my neck, her fingers slipping beneath my waistband, desperate, shaking, furious.

I didn't even touch her.

I just sat there and let her do it—let her try to make me feel something.

But all I felt was cold.

Not because of her body—

But because of what she'd turned mine into.

A tool.

A toy.

A stage for her games.

She rocked her hips, forced kisses onto my mouth, and whispered things that used to make me break:

"You need me."

"No one else will ever touch you like this."

"You're mine, Ace. Always mine."

But every word felt like poison now.

Every sound she made was a scream in an empty room.

I finally caught her wrist, gently, but firm—like I wasn't restraining her… just ending something.

"No," I said.

She froze.

Because I'd never stopped her before.

Never told her she couldn't take something from me.

But now, I looked at her naked body, the way her skin trembled from rejection instead of power, and I said it again.

"No."

She stared at me like I'd slapped her.

And maybe I had.

Because the silence that followed broke her in ways my hands never could.

---

Lily's POV

I didn't know how to stop.

Didn't know how to love without destroying.

So I gave him everything—

My body, my skin, my breath, my begging.

I thought if I kissed him hard enough, he'd remember the boy who used to flinch at my every smile.

But he didn't flinch.

He didn't blink.

He just let me ruin myself in front of him, piece by piece, until I wasn't seductive—I was pathetic.

And then he said it.

"No."

Soft.

Final.

A word sharper than any knife.

And I broke.

I screamed at him, shoved him, clawed at his chest with my nails.

"I made you," I yelled.

"You were nothing before me!"

He stood up, adjusted his pants like I hadn't just thrown myself at him.

And as he turned to leave, I spat the words I didn't mean but meant to hurt:

"You were a dare, Ace. Just a fucking joke we passed around. That's all you ever were to me."

He stopped at the door.

Didn't look back.

Didn't curse.

Didn't breathe.

Then he whispered:

"I know."

And then he walked away.

Like he'd been waiting years for the final excuse to leave.

---

Author's POV

That was the moment everything fell apart.

Not when she stripped.

Not when she begged.

Not even when he said no.

But when she gave him the reason to never come back.

And he took it—

Without hesitation.

Without pain.

Without looking over his shoulder.

Because the most dangerous kind of heartbreak isn't the one that makes you cry.

It's the one that leaves you numb.

And when Lily Watson looked down at her half-naked reflection in the mirror, hands shaking, lips swollen, skin cold—

She realized she wasn't powerful anymore.

She was just a girl.

Alone.

And no amount of skin would ever bring him back.