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I touch my tattoo. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
He nods. “I know that.”
“Alik…” I let out a shaky breath as I take his hand.
I’ve wanted this man for so long.
So. Long.
Right now, I need him. I need his arms wrapped around me, his lips pressed to my ear, telling me everything is all right.
I’m so scared I’m about to lose him.
“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft.
I bite down on my lip hard then let it free. “The only way I can be with you is if you hate her too… I don’t want her to hate you, I don’t. Because if she hates you, she could hurt you, but…”
“I understand.”
I shrink while waiting for him to go on, my heart pounding against my chest. Alik pulls out the chair next to me and sits down.
He takes my hand and brings it onto the table to rest with his.
“You do?” I ask.
He nods. “You’re a good person. You’re bothered by the things you’ve done… I get it.”
I sigh with relief, but when he pulls away from my hand, I tense.
“I’mnota good person, Olive. I do a lot of bad things and have hurt more people than your alter could’ve thought to.”
My lungs stop pulling in air.
“Do you know what an enforcer is?”
An enforcer?
I shake my head.
Alik’s face seems to harden as he sits up straight. “It’s my position within a crime organization. It means I do a lot of dirty work to make people do what we want. A lot of times it involves doing hits.”
Hits.
Like … killing.
I look down at my lap and nervously pick at the dry skin on my knuckles.
“I care for you,” he says, sounding gentler than before. “I’ll protect you no matter what. If you’d rather not be with me knowing what I do, I understand… But to get back to your earlier fear, in case you still want to know… I don’t want your alter. She and I share some similarities, and I don’t think she’s completely bad. She makes it seem like she’s looking out for you, even though it’s obviously misguided. She’s intelligent enough that I think she could make me better at what I do.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he barrels over it.
“But I don’t want to be better at what I do. I don’t want to be more like me.” He shifts in his chair as his face softens. “I think I’d like to be more like you.”
“More like me?” My eyebrows arch.
His mouth opens and closes as his eyes drift to the kitchen. I turn to follow his gaze but don’t know what he’s seeing. All that’s there are dishes in the sink and a plate of snickerdoodle cookies I made before I started my tattoo.
“I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be happy before I met you,” he says, pulling my eyes back to him. “But you just… I don’t know, you pry things from my mind I didn’t know were there. If hating your alter is what it takes to keep feeling the things you make me feel, then I’ll hate her. I won’t ever speak of her again. I promise.”
