And if we’re not careful—if I slip, if I give in—she won’t belong to anyone. Not once Manticore gets close enough to lay their hands on her.
The kiss was a lapse. A selfish indulgence that said too much. And took more than it should have. I won’t let it happen again. Even if every part of me is already aching to break that promise.
I pull away.
Not physically—I’m still close enough to smell her skin, still watching the way the light dusts across her cheek—but emotionally, completely. I shut it down. Brick by brick.
“Go get some sleep. I’ll deal with these in the morning,” I say, voice stripped down to command—no softness, no suggestion.
She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes just enough to let me know she caught it. That flicker of weakness. That glance at her mouth Ishouldn’thave taken. But I don’t let it show again. I’ve trained for worse.
She doesn’t move. Not yet.
And part of me wants her to stay. Wants her to challenge it, push back, close the gap again. But the rest of me knows what that leads to. How fast control slips when she’s near. And right now? She needs protection more than she needs promises I can’t keep.
So I take a step back. Create the space. Maintain the perimeter.
Because if I touch her again… I won’t stop.
She finally nods, sharp and small, then turns and walks off without another word. The soft scuff of her footsteps fades down the hall, and the long blonde curls that cascade down her back disappear back into the safety net.
And I’m left alone in the quiet, fists clenched at my sides. Still burning. Still wired. Still tasting the mistake I keep trying not to make.
I need to refocus.
Adam. His friend. The threat they bring. That’s what matters now.
I told Nell I’d handle it in the morning, but that was a lie I told for her benefit—not mine. This doesn’t wait. This ends tonight.
They laid hands on her. Or tried to. And the more I let that fact sit with me, the more the fury builds tight in my chest, coiled low in my gut. Every second I don’t act feels like a betrayal. Of her. Of the line I drew.
I feel protective in a way that borders on feral. A need to eliminate whatever shadows still follow her. Because I care.
Far more than I have any right to.
She’s chaotic. Brilliant. Maddening. A storm that crashed straight through the ruin I’d become and breathed life back into it. She doesn’t even know what she’s done to me.
But I do.
And I’ll burn the world before I let anything touch her again.
I grab the toolkit and check the cameras—just a quick sweep, no movement upstairs. She’s gone to bed. Good.
Time to deal with the real mess.
The cell is quiet when I step in, cold and damp with that low hum of dread. The one Nell clocked is coming round—head rolling slightly, eyes blinking through the fog of his concussion. Courtesy of the now-infamous rolling pin.
In a way I can relate to his confusion, having been on the receiving end of it, but that’s as far as the similarities go. I might be broken and fucked up, but I’ll never be what these pricks are—sick in the head.
“What the hell?” he slurs, struggling to focus.
“You made a mistake coming here,” I say evenly, slipping the apron over my head and pulling the black butcher gloves high up my arms—snapping them into place like punctuation.
His gaze flicks around, still groggy. “Where’s Adam?”
Like his friend’s going to walk in and save him.
“Adam?” I echo, stepping aside just enough for him to see the opposite corner. Adam’s slumped low in his chair,unconscious or worse—it’s hard even for me to tell in the dim light.
