Page 77 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
He doesn’t blink.
Not once.
Not even when the emotions around us tangle — fear, longing, betrayal, love, exhaustion, resolve — all of them coiling in the space between us like a living thing.
“I thought I could,” he murmurs, low, slower than before — cautious, measured — “I thought I could shield you from the uglier parts until the moment was right.”
“Shield me?” I scoff, but it doesn’t come out cruel. Just raw. Real. “You don’tshieldme. You leave me in the dark and expect me to fall at your feet for it.”
“That’s not it,” he says — his voice rough, but controlled, level, like wind held back by a dam. “You don’t understand —”
“Oh, I understand,” I cut him off. “I understand that you think you’re sparing me. That you think I’m fragile. That you think your world — your shadows — are too much for me.”
My throat burns.
Because it’s true.
But itisn’t the reason.
“I don’t need to be protected from your shadows,” I say, voice gaining strength. “I just need you to trust me with them.”
He looks at me — longer this time — and I see something flicker behind his eyes. Not fear. Not regret. Somethingcolderand deeper.
Recognition.
But not acceptance.
“You’re asking me,” he says quietly, “to lower every wall I’ve built in a lifetime.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” I say. “I’m asking for honesty.”
Another pause.
Then he steps back.
Just a fraction.
As if the distance protects him.
Or me.
“I can’t give you what you want,” he says.
“What?” I gasp — like air just got sucked out of the room.
“I can’t give you the entirety of my world,” he says. “Not even for you.”
My stomach drops.
I can feel the blood draining out of my face.
“What do you mean?” I whisper — but it’s more like a plea.
“I mean…” he falters — just a little — the only sign that this hurts him too. “There are parts of me that exist because they had to. Parts that have no place in your world — no place inanyworld that isn’t the edge of survival.”
My breath catches.
Because I know the parts he means.
