He reached out, but paused, the fingers of his gloved hand hovering just above her cheek—just like before. Always almost touching. Always stopping.
"I've spent years surrounded by monsters, built my world from cold blood and colder choices. I forgot what softness looked like. What warmth felt like. Then you happened. You and those defiant little eyes, those words that never bowed."
His throat worked as he swallowed hard. "And for once… I didn't know what the hell I was doing."
He let the glove drop from his hand.
It hit the floor softly.
Bare fingers brushed her cheek this time—warm, real, reverent. Not claiming. Just feeling.
"You want answers? I'll help you find them. You want your mother? I'll take you to her. This minute."
A pause.
"But don't say you want to die. Don't you dare."
His voice broke slightly on the last word, and that quiet fury returned—not at her, but at whatever pain had been carved so deep into her.
