Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
The lump in my throat chokes me as I move on autopilot. Grab my clothes from the dresser. Pull on jeans, boots, and a jacket. Strap on a shoulder holster, checking the clip as usual.
Habits. Muscle memory from a thousand jobs I've done.
But this time, all of it feels… wrong. Like I need to let her go.
No. No, I fucking won't.
I stop outside the bedroom door and peer through the crack. I can see her curled up inside, her beautiful black hair still mussed from sleep, one hand tucked under her cheek. Her fair skin looks creamy in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
She looks so beautiful. So… innocent. Everything good in the world contained in one fragile body.
I could lock her in. Could bolt the door from the outside and make it impossible for her to leave. It's secure in here—reinforced windows, no way out except the front door.
She got out before, though, didn't she?
I remember the way she looked at me when she asked why I watched her, the tremor of trust in her voice when she admitted she didn't know how to stop caring. She's starting to understand, to get it. To see that I'm not just a monster.
Or maybe I'm just imagining things.
If I lock her in, she'll know I don't trust her. I don't want her to see herself as a prisoner, but I… Christ, I don't trust easily.
Before I can second-guess myself, I push open the bedroom door and cross to the bed. I sit on the edge, close enough to touch but not touching. Not quite yet.
“Bianca.” My voice is rough. “Wake up.”
She stirs and makes a small sound of protest, then blinks at me with sleepy eyes. For a moment, she looks at me as if she's happy to see me, genuinely happy, and something in my chest tightens. Her eyes are a little starry as she blinks and yawns, as sweet as a little kitten.
Maybe I'm imagining things.
Then she remembers everything and sits up, the blanket clutched to her chin. “Something wrong?”
Christ. She knows something's wrong just by looking at me.
Why does that make me want to cry? I never fucking cry. “I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“Family emergency. One of my uncles was hurt. I need to—” I run a hand over my scalp, frustrated that I'm explaining myself, but I can't help it. “Tiernan. Fucking Tiernan. I need to be there.”
She swallows hard and studies me. I can see her thinking, processing, her beautiful mind working through angles I can't predict.
“How long will you be gone?” she finally whispers.
“Don’t know.”
She reaches out with a tentative hand, all gentle and soft, and touches my arm. “It's… going to be okay.”
I slide my hand over hers and give it a gentle squeeze.
“I don't know,” I whisper and pull my hand away.
She nods slowly, then brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She looks so small in the bed, drowning in all that white linen.
I can't leave her. I can't fucking do this.
But then I see Tiernan's face after my last match, the pride in his eyes I’ve come to crave. I have to go.
“Bianca.” I lean forward and cup her jaw, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “I need you to promise me something—”
“Don’t run.” She says it before I can, quiet but steady.
“Don't.” My voice shakes, and I fucking hate that it does. “Please. I swear to fuck it isn’t safe.”
She knows I'm vulnerable right now, doesn't she? But are we beyond me caring about being vulnerable at this point?
“I need you to stay here.” I've never begged anyone for anything, but I'm begging her now.
She's quiet for so long, I think maybe she'll refuse.
Then she finally whispers, “Alright. I'll stay.” She meets my gaze with something vulnerable in her own eyes. “I promise. Please believe me.”
She's not a liar. Even after everything, I know she's not a liar.
I reach out and cup her face with my hand. Her skin is warm and soft against my calloused palm.
“Stay safe.”
Stay safe, where I can watch over you.
“I promise I'll be back as soon as I can.”
Just a few hours, that's all. Tiernan will be fine. He has to be.
She leans against my palm. “And I hope… I hope everything turns out okay. I hope he's okay.”
As if she cares. As if she actually gives a fuck whether I come back whole or in pieces.
I want to kiss her. I want it so badly my hands shake with the need. But I force myself to pull back, stand up, and create distance before I do something stupid.
“There's food in the fridge. Books on the shelf. If you need anything—”
“Go,” she says quietly. “I'll be fine. Go. Your uncle needs you.”
I stare at her for one more moment, trying to memorize every feature. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the flush in her cheeks, the fullness of her lips.