“No,” he agreed. “But you want me to be.”
That snapped something in me. “You don’t knowwhatI want.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and for one suspended second, it felt as though the air between us might catch fire. “I know you want to fight something,” he said. “I know you want to push back until you hit something solid. Until someone won’t let you fall.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
He stepped back just enough to let the space fill with my silence.
“You want to leave?” he asked again, cool, calm, and controlled. “Say it. Or get back in bed.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. I stood there, throat dry, skin flushed, heart hammering as if it didn’t know what it wanted. Leave? I could. I’ddone it before. Walked out, cut ties, and killed anyone who hurt me, until the smoke choked me. But something about the way Killian watched me, still, sure, waiting—not begging, not commanding—justexpecting—made me feel like running would destroy something in me.
I hated that. Hated him. Hated this.
So I did the only thing I could.
I sat.
The bed creaked under me, the cotton sheets cool. My hands trembled, fists curled in the fabric, grounding myself in something—anything. Rage, shame, relief, I couldn’t tell which was winning. My body obeyed, even while my mind screamed at me to run. And that scared me more than anything—that staying felt worse than burning.
Killian didn’t say anything right away as he reached for the edge of the sheet. He drew it up over me with care, tucking it around my waist and legs, not letting it drag across the burns. His hands were steady, impersonal in the way a good lie is—no lingering touches, no sharp edges. Just control. Just care.
Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. My nose. Gently to my lips. And it burned hotter than any fire I’d ever lit. “I could have helped, Pretty. You should have come to me.” I squirmedaway as though the contact had scalded me, and he sighed. “Sleep.”
That was all. Onefreakingword. But it was enough. Like everything else he did, it came wrapped in command and comfort, and despite every instinct telling me I had to run… I closed my eyes.
TWENTY
Killian
I hadn’t sleptall night, and I was now hunched over my laptop, working on one of my mainstream cases that didn’t—so far—include murder, mayhem, or men trading in flesh. I managed a shower when I knew Jamie was more unconscious than asleep, but I hadn’t shifted from the counter in the kitchen since then. I was close enough to the coffee to keep going and had a full view of the door. The city beyond the window buzzed, a mix of neon and horn-blare static, but none of it reached me in my apartment. Not really.
The building Jamie had gone to had been empty. There had been no fire. Not yet. But I knew he’d gone there to burn something down. Thank fuck Caleb had planted a tracker on him—the same onehe used for all of us, apparently. I barely remembered parking next to Caleb’s bike in the shadows at the back of the building. He’d been waiting for me, and we had smelled it. Smoke. I had forced my way through the gap in the door. Flames had been blooming in the hallway, dancing up drywall, chasing shadows. And somewhere through it?—
A violent crash and a shout.
“Jamie!” I’d roared, diving through the smoke, ignoring the sting in my eyes, the way heat had clawed at my skin. I hadn’t been able to see him. I’d only been able to hear him. The heat had been choking, visibility near zero, smoke clawing at my throat. I had seen a gap ahead—not much of one, but just enough. Caleb had grabbed my arm, shouting something I couldn’t make out over the roar. I had shaken him off hard, lungs screaming, heart pounding.
And then, I’d jumped through the gap.
The fire had curled around the edges of the hallway, as if it wanted to swallow me whole, but I’d pushed forward, my jacket pulled over my mouth, my eyes burning. A beam had groaned and crashed behind me. I’d ducked and stumbled, but kept going. My ears had rung. The air had been a furnace. Mybody had reacted on instinct, driven by one thought: Jamie.
Then—there. Blood on his shirt, soot streaking his jaw. He’d looked up as if he hadn’t believed I was real, and laughed. He’d goddamned laughed!
“She’s fucking beautiful!” he’d said as if it was some religious experience, as I’d reached him and scooped him up into my arms. The gap in the flames I’d used was gone, blocked by a fresh wave of fire licking up the walls like it had been waiting for us. I turned in a circle, coughing, my eyes burning, searching for another way out. Jamie sagged against me, only half-conscious, and I could feel how hot his skin was through my shirt.
Then, a beam above us groaned—loud, warping, screaming with heat—and crashed to the floor behind us, punching a hole through what looked like a storage room wall. Dust and smoke burst out, and we had a path for a brief second.
I saw Caleb’s silhouette in the haze.
“Caleb!” I shouted, and he’d reached through the space, yanked me, and we staggered through the gap, Jamie in my arms, the broken wall giving way to clear air. Caleb met us at the threshold, pulled open what was left of a service door, and we stumbled into the alley together. As soon as we crossed the line into theopen air, Jamie collapsed in my grip, and I dropped to my knees with him.
We’d made it. Barely. But we had.
And we’d left before the sirens or anyone saw us, but still…
I’d lost one of my nine lives, more because Jamie had nearly died as well, plus now Caleb was pissed at me, as well he should be. I’d jeopardized everything by being there. All the names on our board would stay there for Caleb, Sonya, and Levi to deal with.
