Selene's POV
That night, even after the air had cleared and Victor's name was finally a ghost behind steel bars, sleep didn't come easy.
The safety, yes—that I felt. I felt Antonio's arms as a fortress, my family's voices layered with support. I felt Ayra's unshakable presence like a tether I didn't know I needed.
But peace?
No. Not yet.
Because one question kept clawing at my throat: Why?
Why me?
The next morning, I sat with Antonio in the quiet comfort of his apartment—his fingers loosely woven through mine, his thumb brushing the back of my hand. He was watching me carefully, the way he always did when he knew I was overthinking.
And I was.
"Antonio…" I whispered, barely audible.
He leaned in, nodding once.
"Do you know… why he did it? Why Victor was like that to me?"
He stilled. Then sat up straighter.
"I hoped you wouldn't want to know," he admitted, not coldly, but protectively. "But I figured the question would come."
"Please," I said, "I need to make sense of it. Even if it doesn't help."
He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, then met my eyes.
"Victor grew up entitled. Rich father, spoiled life, no consequences. But more than that—he grew up obsessed with power. With being in control of everything around him. Especially… people."
I flinched slightly.
Antonio squeezed my hand.
"You were never his equal in his mind. You were a girl he wanted to tame. Someone he couldn't stand being rejected by, even in the subtlest ways. Ayra told me he would twist memories. Gaslight. Touch without consent just to see you squirm. He got… pleasure out of fear. And when you started slipping away, when your light threatened to expose his shadows, he fixated."
My breath caught.
"So it wasn't love," I said.
"No," Antonio said fiercely. "It was possession. An illusion of control he wanted to keep. But you—" his voice softened—"you never bowed to it. That's what made him angry."
I swallowed hard. "Did he… hurt others too?"
Antonio's jaw clenched. "We think so. That's part of what helped the case. You weren't the only one. But you were the one who helped us expose him."
A sick sort of heat flushed through my chest, part fury, part sorrow. "Why didn't I see it earlier? Why did I doubt myself?"
He looked at me so deeply it almost hurt. "Because people like him are experts at hiding behind masks. And because you were innocent. You believed in good."
I blinked back the sting in my eyes.
Antonio reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded paper. "His father issued a public apology," he said. "He disowned him."
"Too late," I muttered.
"Maybe," he said. "But sometimes, the world needs to see monsters unmasked before it believes victims. And Selene—because of you, the world did see."
I exhaled shakily, resting my head on his shoulder. The ache in my chest didn't leave, but something else replaced it—like quiet strength humming under my ribs.
I still didn't understand everything. Maybe I never would.
But I wasn't powerless anymore.