He reached across and stole my right hand, squeezing hard. “I’ve self-harmed for a very long time. I hate it. It fills me with shame, but as much as I want to stop, I can’t. I can’t promise I’ll be able to give it up entirely, but from now on, I’m going to try and find some other way.”

He smiled. “Clara helped with that, too.”

“How?” I barely whispered, too captivated by learning more behind his mask.

“Because her death has given me an unlimited supply of pain. I only need to think of her, and the urge to self-mutilate disappears.”

I didn’t know how to reply. I hated the thought of him using Clara’s memory to avoid hurting himself. Was he tainting her memory by using it for selfish reasons? But then again, I was pleased she continued to help beyond the grave.

“Don’t fight. He needs you.”

Clara’s lyrical voice came and went. I asked, “You didn’t just go to fight, though. Did you?” There was a difference in him. A tightness and barely found tranquillity.

“No. I went to see someone. To say goodbye to a past I never wished I lived.” Fox squeezed my fingers once more, before placing his hand on the wheel. “I went back to Russia.”

My heart raced as my mind filled with images of snow and ice.

“I killed the men who made me like this. I decided to stop relying on others to fix me and find a cure myself.”

Had he done what I’d hoped all along? Had something snapped and fallen from his mind? Hope blazed, chasing away the black cloud of mourning for a wonderful moment. “Is that why you could hug me? You can touch?” I ignored the voice telling me he’d tensed and vibrated with energy when I’d hugged him back. “You’re free?”

His shoulders slumped; he smiled sadly. “Not free, but better.”

I hated the desolation in his eyes. He looked guilty, as if he’d done something wrong by returning to me only marginally repaired. He couldn’t be further from the truth. The fact that he’d tried to heal meant wonders.

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes flew to mine. His jaw clenched but he nodded slowly.

Very carefully, I laid a palm on the hard heat of his left thigh. “I’m so proud of you. I know that sounds strange to say, but you took control and you should celebrate your progress rather than hate that it isn’t cured completely.”

His eyes flashed and he leaned over to press a gentle kiss against my lips. “I swear I could live a thousand f**king years and not deserve you.” Pulling away, he turned into a driveway of a gated property right on the esplanade of Narrabeen. The suburb boasted huge modern architecture, all new and sparkling, and right across the road from the beach.

I blinked as he pressed a remote and the gate rolled open. The house was a two-story white and glass design. The ocean crashed behind us, sounding like muted thunder, welcoming us onto the property. The large double garage door opened, granting shade and a huge concrete home for Fox’s Porsche.

“Where—where are we?” The Northern Beaches were on the opposite end of town to Obsidian. I’d lost all bearings while driving through the city.

Does he own this, too?

I flicked a glance at the man I’d agreed to return home with. How much did I truly know of him?

Nothing.

I didn’t know his favourite foods, or pet peeves, or even his birthday. I didn’t know if he was allergic to anything or how many assets he owned. I’d given him my life all because he proved he could love so fiercely.

And I’m pregnant with his child.

“See, mummy. He needs you after all. He needs someone to love.”

Clara’s voice once again suffocated my lungs. She’d taken up residence in my head, and I never wanted her to leave. Even if it was me telling myself what I needed to hear.

“This is incredible.”

Fox smiled, pulling to a stop inside the garage. “It couldn’t get any more different from Obsidian. I never want to see another gargoyle again.”

I nodded, eternally grateful that I wouldn’t have to enter the dwelling where Clara had died. There was nothing foreboding about this place. It looked welcoming, pristine. A fresh beginning.

Turning off the ignition, Fox said, “We’re home.”

I froze in my seat as a rainbow of emotion filled me: happiness, heartache, hope—all overshadowed by grief. Clara would never see this. She’d never know the massive impact she had on this man.

Turning to face him, I whispered, “I don’t understand.”

Fox gave a half smile and climbed out of the car. Coming around the bonnet, he opened my door and helped me clamber upright. “There’s a lot you won’t understand until I grow some balls and tell you. What I shared in my basement is nothing compared to the involved story—but for now, all you need to know is I bought this two days ago. The moment I found the piece of land for Clara, I found the perfect house for us. I couldn’t return to the club. I need to get away from violence—to try and fix myself once and for all.”

He’d done so much—all behind the scenes while I’d cried myself into a stupor.

“What did you do with Obsidian?”

He smiled. “I sold it to Oscar. He practically ran it himself anyway. I’ve sold it to him for a rock bottom price.” He laughed. “Let’s just say he got a steal.”

My eyes widened at the joviality—so odd coming from Fox. “What steal?”

Aliveness flashed in his eyes for the first time. “I made him give me ten dollars and an oath that he will never talk to me about it, or mention the name Obsidian Fox again, and the club was all his.”

My mind whirled. How could he do that? How much wealth did he have? My eyes narrowed, trying to decipher the conundrum in front of me. “Just who are you?”

He shrugged. “Do you want the long story or the short story?”

Oh, God. I didn’t know if I should be terrified or excited to find out every skeleton in his closet. “Short story, for now.”

“I’m wealthy. From an inheritance.” His jaw twitched—the only sign that it was a painful subject for him. “I can take care of you. I want to take care of you.”

I swallowed.

Fox reached out and dragged me close. His arms wrapped around my waist, forcing my hands to rest on his chest to keep my balance. Every part of me froze; my fingers itched to grab my hair-clip knife, just in case.

His nostrils flared and his face darkened, but he didn’t regress or terrify me. Bowing his head, he pressed his forehead against mine. “You asked me who I am. My name is Roan Averin. Forget you ever knew a man named Fox. He wasn’t a man. He was the product of a past he hated. I never thought I’d be able to use my full name again, but I want to. I want a new beginning. With you.”

My heart broke open and grew wings.

“Roan Averin.” The name sounded sweet on my tongue. A world apart from Obsidian Fox. “I like it.”

He huffed, body tensing as I trailed my fingertips up his chest to his throat.

“Can I?” I murmured, very aware of every muscle tightening inside him.

He squeezed his eyes, nodding.

Slowly, I grazed my fingers along his smooth jaw and cupped his cheeks. He trembled in my hold. Standing on tiptoe, I brushed the lightest of kisses over his lips. His forehead furrowed; teeth clenched.

The innocent kiss reminded me of how delicate he was with Clara, and I struggled to hold onto the moment where grief didn’t interrupt.

I dropped my hands and backed out of his grip. “It will get easier. You’ll see. I’ll help you.”

Am I talking about missing Clara or his condition?

He nodded. “I know. As long as I have you, I can get better. Just please, remember to call me Roan. It will help.”

I knew it would be hard to stop calling him Fox. It was the name of the man I fell for. But I saw how important it was to him. Fox had died with whatever he’d done in Russia, and I needed to obey his wishes to put the past where it belonged.

My eyes fell to the star in the hollow of his throat. “She could always see who you really were. She was so much better than me. Always saw the best in people. So trusting. Too trusting.” I had to stop as my throat closed, and my heart thudded a painful staccato.

Fox’s eyes glowed. “You were the same. I recognised something I needed in you the second I saw you. I didn’t know what it was, but stealing your knife and marching you up those steps was the best f**king thing I’ve done in my entire life.”

I laughed softly, trembling as he captured my chin. “You’ll never lose her, Zel. We’ll never stop talking about her or keeping her alive in our thoughts.”

Pulling away, he shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Handing it to me, he said, “Seeing as I’ve put so much in the past, to begin anew—this belongs to you.”

I took it, frowning. I opened the handwritten contract between Obsidian Fox and Hazel Hunter. My heart swooped and I met his eyes.

Roan murmured, “Tear it up. That man no longer exists.”

He was asking me to rip up the past. Walk away from everything bad that had happened and embrace a future together.

With trembling fingers, I obeyed. The sound of shredding paper echoed off the garage walls.

Roan went to take my hand, but I pulled back. “Wait.”

I bit my lip as I reached into my dress pocket and pulled out the thing I was terrified of. The thing I’d stolen from Fox the day I knocked him out with the small wolf statue on his side-board. Nestled in a piece of tissue paper sat the blue pill.

I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was poison. I also knew Fox had moments of weakness where he might’ve done something irreversible.

I stole it to prevent him doing something recklessly stupid.

“Here. This belongs to you.”

Grabbing it, he unwrapped the suicide pill. His face darkened; eyes narrowed. “Why the f**k do you have this?” Anger blazed across his features. “Do you know how dangerous this is? What the hell were you think—” Then panic replaced his fear and his fingers dug into my elbow. “You weren’t going…please tell me you weren’t thinking of using this. For f**k’s sake, Zel. What were you going to do?”

I jerked back, hot temper filling me at his wrong conclusion. “You thought I’d be weak enough to kill myself? How could you think that? I may have lost my daughter, but I haven’t lost my mind!”

“Then why do you have it?” Roan bundled up the tissue, clenching his fist.

“Because I didn’t want to walk in on you dead. I hated the thought that you couldn’t stomach living and would rather commit the biggest treason of all and kill yourself. I stole it from you as I didn’t want you to die!”

He moved forward a step, crowding me. “It still doesn’t explain what it’s doing in your f**king pocket.”

I shouted right in his face. “Ever since I took it, I’ve been terrified of it. I didn’t know what to do.” The relief that came with no longer being responsible for such a dangerous thing quietened my anger. “I kept it taped to the underside of my bed to prevent anyone finding it by mistake. It haunted me, and I don’t want the responsibility anymore. I want you to destroy it.”

Without saying a word, Roan grabbed my hand and stalked toward the door leading into the house. He jangled a set of keys, trying to find the right one, never letting go of my hand. The moment he unlocked the door, he dragged me down the corridor and to a bathroom off a room that looked like a shadowed cinema.

The immaculate ensuite looked like a show home ready for viewing. Fluffy turquoise towels with sparkling silver tiles were so different to the black facilities at Obsidian.

“Can’t believe you’ve been walking around with this in your pocket.” Flipping open the lid of the toilet, he threw the tissue and pill into the basin. Flushing it, he snapped, “There. Gone. Now Fox is really dead, and it’s about f**king time you met Roan.”

I squealed as he scooped me off my feet and carted me up the wide white stairs to the second floor. I couldn’t see much in the whirlwind of speed, but everywhere I looked was white. Not one inch of black.

Kicking a door open, he prowled inside and gave me exactly one second to glance around the room.

White king-size bed covered in silky pillows that looked like pristine clouds. The huge expanse of glass welcomed the sand dunes and sea inside. The carpet was white, the bedside tables and small sitting area white.

Everywhere I looked white, white, white.

And then all I saw was black as Roan threw me on the bed and crushed me against the softness of duck down. I moaned as his body heat smothered me and for one joyous moment I let go of my grief and thought only of him. This man who’d turned my world upside down, back to front, inside out.

His hands went to the little pearl buttons of my dress, fumbling with the dainty buttonholes. His breathing accelerated, and he growled in frustration. His touch brought me crawling out of the fog of sorrow and latching onto life.

I grabbed the back of his head, whispering in his ear. “Tear it off. I never want to wear it again.”

“Thank God,” he groaned. His hands bunched the material and tore. The dress went from encasing my body to being ripped into pieces, laying scattered like death on all the perfect whiteness. His eyes dropped to my black underwear. “You’re f**king gorgeous.”

He bent over me, biting the swell of my breast with gentle teeth. “I’m going to love you every day. I’ll never get enough of these.” He cupped my br**sts, brushing my pebbled ni**les with his thumbs. “I’ll never get enough of this.” His right hand trailed down my stomach to cup between my legs.