Chapter 68

Chapter 68
The bass thudded low in the walls of Club Cage, but Callum wasn’t listening to the music.

He stood alone in the upstairs lounge, glass of whiskey in hand, jacket discarded somewhere behind him, shirt sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows. The skyline of Manhattan glinted beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like an indifferent god watching him unravel.

“Callum?” Julian’s voice came low from the door, cautious.

Callum didn’t turn. “Go home, Jules.”

“You’ve been here twelve hours. That’s not like you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve had four drinks. Only god knows how many bottled you’ve had earlier today. This isn’t you Cal. You’re letting your enemies have the last laugh. You’re letting them win.”

“I said I’m fine, goddammit” Callum snapped, and then immediately regretted it. Julian didn’t deserve that.

The silence stretched.

“Talk to me,” Julian said at last, quieter now, stepping into the room.

Callum sank into the leather couch like the weight of the world had finally broken him in two. His fingers curled around the glass. “She messaged me,” he said. “Elena was worried about me, and Ariana texted to check in but it felt so disconnected ”

Julian exhaled slowly.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I come to work and I can’t focus.” Callum’s voice frayed at the edges. “She’s not even in my bed and I still feel her. In the silence. In the goddamn air.”

Julian sat beside him. “Then fix it. Go to her.”

Callum turned to him, glassy-eyed. “I broke something, Julian. I made her question her place with me. And now I don’t even know if I deserve her back.”

Julian rested a hand on his shoulder. “Then earn her again. But don’t let this be how it ends.”

Callum nodded numbly. He downed the last of his whiskey, grabbed his jacket, and walked out the door without another word.

⸻

1:43 A.M. — Ariana’s Apartment

Ariana wasn’t asleep. She hadn’t truly rested in days. The pillow beside her still smelled faintly of Callum’s cologne, a ghost of memories that only made her ache more.

When the knock came, it startled her. She froze, heart pounding. Another knock, firmer now. Then she heard him. She could recognize that voice anywhere. The voice that had played in her mind nonstop for days.

“It’s me.”

Callum’s voice. Ragged. Barely above a whisper.

She rushed to the door, pulling it open—and there he stood.

His hair was windswept. His eyes bloodshot. And he looked… wrecked. Absolutely undone.

“Callum?”

He didn’t speak. He just stared at her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

Without thinking, she stepped aside.

He walked in slowly. His footsteps heavy. She closed the door and turned to him just in time to see the moment his guard shattered.

He fell to his knees.

“Callum!” she gasped, kneeling in front of him. “What happened?”

He grabbed her hands like a lifeline. “I can’t do this without you, Ariana. I tried to bury myself in work. I tried to be the man who can live without you—but I’m not. I’m not okay. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

Her heart clenched. “Callum…”

“You make me feel like I can breathe, like I’m worth something beyond what my family expects of me. I love you. I fucking love you, and it’s killing me that you’re not home. You made my lonely penthouse a home. A safe space for me and now I can’t bare to be there without you. Please.”

She cupped his face. His skin was warm, damp with silent tears. “I’m here now,” she whispered.

He looked up at her and before she could say no, he kissed her.

It wasn’t desperate, not at first—it was reverent. A slow apology. An ache. His hands cradled her face like she was made of glass, like touching her was the only thing that made sense in the world.

Ariana didn’t realize she was crying until his mouth moved against her tears.

Callum’s lips brushed her cheeks, her jaw, her neck—gently, like he was relearning her skin. Her fingers curled into his shirt, clutching him closer.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered against his collarbone. “But I didn’t know if you’d fight for me.”

“I’ll fight the world,” he murmured. “I’ll burn down every lie between us. Just don’t shut me out.”

A sob caught in her throat. “Then stop shutting me out.”

“I won’t,” he promised, breathless.

His mouth found hers again, fiercer now. And she let it happen. She let herself feel it, the raw honesty in his kiss. The kiss was all tongue and teeth and heat—a silent confession of everything left unsaid.

When he lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around him instinctively. He carried her down the hall without breaking the kiss, until her back hit the soft press of her mattress.

He looked down at her like he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“Then earn me,” she said softly, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

The fabric peeled away from his skin. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. Her palms ran across the muscles she’d traced a hundred times before, but this time there was more meaning beneath it. This time, she wasn’t just touching him—she was taking him back piece by piece.

He tugged her shirt over her head, and his eyes darkened as he took her in. “You’re beautiful.”

“Callum…”

He pressed his lips to her collarbone, then lower. Every kiss left a searing trail, every graze of his hands made her feel both cherished and undone. She arched into him, her breath catching as he took one of her nipple buds into his mouth.

“I want you to feel it,” he murmured. “What you mean to me.”

And then he worshipped her.

Every slow thrust of his hips was filled with tension and apology, each touch a promise. His hands threaded through hers above her head, holding her like he never wanted to let go again.

Their moans filled the dark room, rhythmic and breathless. He whispered her name like a prayer into her neck. She tangled her legs around him, anchoring herself to the one person who knew her in the quiet spaces no one else ever reached.

When they both tumbled over the edge, it wasn’t rushed or wild—it was devastatingly intimate. Like their bodies knew how to say everything their mouths hadn’t dared to.

After, he collapsed beside her, pulling her into his chest. His fingers traced the length of her arm, his breaths still labored against her hairline.

“I’m sorry for all of it,” he murmured.

“I know,” she whispered. “I felt it.”

They stayed like that for a while—two broken hearts trying to rebuild something real in the quiet aftermath.

Eventually, she looked up at him. “Callum?”

His eyes met hers, softer now. “Yeah?”

“Where do we go from here?”

He kissed her forehead. “Anywhere you want. As long as I don’t have to do it without you.”