Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I pull her gently into my chest, holding her close, the storm raging outside while the storm inside me goes quiet for the first time in hours.
Because now I know the truth:
They didn’t hit her by accident. They didn’t hit her to scare her.
They hit her to hurt me.
And that?
That means the rules just changed.
Time to hunt the men who forgot one simple truth: She doesn’t need to remember me in order for to kill for her.
Sixteen
Kelly
My memories feel like stars, distant and scattered, but guiding my way.
* * *
The storm doesn’t let up.
Thunder cracks like the sky is splitting in half. Rain hammers the roof so hard the windows shake. It should make me feel trapped, buried, claustrophobic.
Instead, I feel oddly steady.
Because Riot is sitting next to me on the worn couch in the safehouse, close enough that our knees touch, close enough that his body heat brushes mine like a quiet promise.
A promise he hasn’t said out loud but that I feel anyway.
He told me the truth about the message.
He told me they came after me to get to him.
He told me I mattered to him.
And now?
He looks like he’s preparing for war.
His elbows rest on his thighs, hands clasped once in front of him. His eyes flash to the door every few seconds, to the windows, to the shadows shifting outside. Every time thunder rolls, his shoulders get tenser.
“Riot?” I whisper.
He doesn’t look at me at first. “Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
That pulls his attention. His eyes meet mine, dark and sharp and full of something I don’t expect.
“Yes.”
The honesty stuns me.
“You are?”
“Only of one thing,” he murmurs with his eyes locked to mine. “Losin’ you again.”
Something inside me snaps at that. Not in a painful way in a way that feels like a rope pulling tight between two anchor points.
“Ledger,” I whisper again.
He blinks, expression tightening. “You don’t gotta say anything. I didn’t say it to get a reaction from you.”
“What if I have one anyway?”
His jaw flexes.
I shift a little closer not touching more than we already are, but wanting to. Wanting it too much.
“I don’t remember everything,” I admit softly. “But I feel connected to you. Like my heart remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”
His breath catches.
Lightning flashes outside, illuminating his face long enough for me to see raw emotion flicker through it awe, pain, hunger, something impossibly deep.
The power goes out with a snap.
The space plunges into darkness except for the faint glow of emergency lights.
Ledger stands immediately. “Backup generator should kick in.”
But it doesn’t.
Nothing hums.
No power flickers back on.
He curses under his breath. “Of course.”
“Is this dangerous?” I ask, heart stumbling.
“No,” he says instantly. “We’re safe. Just dark.”
Except his voice is too tight, his stance too rigid.
He’s not worried about the dark.
He’s worried about what might use the dark.
He finds a flashlight, clicks it on, and sets it on the table. Warm yellow light spills across the room, hitting his face.
The storm outside intensifies.
Wind howls like something alive.
I wrap my arms around myself. “This storm feels like an omen.”
“It’s just weather,” he says but his hand brushes my shoulder as he passes, a ghost of a touch that lingers long after.
I turn toward him. “Ledger?”
“Yeah?”
“Can, can you sit with me?”
He stops completely.
Just stops.
Thunder rattles the windows.
He faces me slowly, eyes locked on mine. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. The air between us snaps tight like something alive.
He returns to the couch not cautiously, but deliberately and sits so close our hips touch this time. Not an accidental brush. Not a half-inch of space. Full contact with purpose. The warmth of him spreads through me. My heart pounds loud enough I swear he must hear it.
“Tell me what’s in your head,” he says quietly.
I swallow hard. “I’m trying to piece things together.”
“What things?”
“You,” I whisper.
His breath hitches. “What about me?”
“I keep getting flashes,” I say, closing my eyes. “More today than before. Moments with you. Your voice. Your laugh. Your hands. Your truck. Your bike. The bakery. You looking at me like I was,” I shake my head. “Important.”
He exhales sharply.
“You were,” he shares, “you are.”
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. “I don’t understand why all of that would disappear.”
“Head trauma,” he murmurs. “Time. Stress. Fear.”
“But everything I remember is warm,” I whisper. “Safe. Like I was happy.”
“You were,” he repeats.
“And you?” I ask carefully. “Were you happy?”
He goes still. So still that the storm outside feels like background noise. Finally, he speaks.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “But I didn’t realize how much until I threw it away.”
My throat tightens. “Why did you?”
“Because I didn’t think I deserved it,” he mutters. “Didn’t think I deserved you. Didn’t want to drag you into club shit. Into danger.”
Lightning flashes again.
The danger is here anyway.
“You didn’t drag me. I had a choice, Ledger. And I chose you.” I whisper. “Someone came for me because of you. Doesn’t that mean I was always part of your world? Even before this?”