Page 132 of Shades of Loyalty
I press against her, and we both moan at the friction. We don’t care about the blood, the danger, the world outside this elevator.
My tongue slides into her mouth, both of us not wanting to stop this moment.
Right now, it’s just us.
Then—
Ding.
The doors slide open.
"Uh, guys?"
I groan, pulling back just enough to glare at Hayden. “You ruined the fucking moment.”
He grins. “Stop dry-fucking and let’s get the hell out of here.”
I sigh. I hate it, but he’s right. We need to move.
The three of us step outside. Hayden heads for the car while I make my way to my bike. Jennifer follows him, but just before she slips into the car, she turns back, her blue eyes locking onto mine.
I smirk at her. She smiles back.
Fuck. That’s my pretty girl. All mine.
And I’m never letting her go.
Nothingwill ever change that.
Chapter Forty-nine
Daniel
The rain pours relentlessly, drumming against the church’s rooftop. Heavy clouds smother the sky, hiding even the faintest trace of sunlight. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe the saying—that there’s always light after the rain.
But today is my mother’s funeral.
When the priest begins to speak, I swear I can feel my heart break. Not metaphorically—physically. A sharp, twisting pain in my chest. But I don’t cry.
I’ve spent my whole life learning how to lock my emotions away. But right now? Right now, I just want to disappear. I want to slip into the shadows and let it all out, let the grief consume me.
But I can’t.
I have to face this. I have to stand here and listen.
A soft movement to my right pulls me from the numbness. I turn my head and meet her eyes—blue, clear, and endless. Even with the sky shrouded in darkness, her eyes remain untouched, shining like the clearest summer day.
She’s the only one who keeps me grounded. The only person who can reach me in this moment, when I feel like I’m slowly slipping away.
"Are you okay?" she whispers.
I shake my head. "Not really. But I’ll survive. I’ll be okay."
Her expression tightens, worry deepens in her gaze. She doesn’t press me for more. She just stays close, watching me even as I lower my head and stare at the cold, unfeeling floor of the small church while the priest continues his speech.
Her gaze is the only warmth I can feel, wrapping around me like a shield against the storm of the priest’s words.
The priest’s voice fades into the background, blending with the soft patter of rain against the stained-glass windows. Words about life, loss, and faith—empty phrases that don’t mean a damn thing to me.
