Page 172 of Rags's Awakening
He bent down and picked up the twine from the box. “I loved her first,” he went on, his voice losing its usual warmth, the words tumbling faster now. “Before Mother decided she needed all of her. Before she started locking doors. Before she started whispering that I was… wrong.”
He pulled the twine until it snapped taut between his fingers. The rough fiber bit so deeply into his skin that his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t even flinch. “I kept telling Mother she was hurting her by keeping her away from me.” His laugh came out thin and cracked. “But Mother never listened.”
His eyes met Casey’s. “So I quieted her.”
Silence swallowed the room. Realization crashed through Casey: the Christmas decorations, the upcoming gardening plans he said his mother had, the dinners he’d talked about.His mother has been dead the whole time.
“And your sister?” she whispered.
Devin smiled. “I just wanted her to stay.” His eyes locked onto hers. “My dark-haired princess. I kept her with me. Safe. Untouched. Forever.” His expression hardened. “That’s love, Casey. That’s what you do when someone belongs to you.”
Casey’s gaze kept darting from his face to his eyes to his movement as he slowly headed toward her.
“Your biker doesn’t know what real love is. He just knows lust.” Devin stopped in his tracks. “He made it difficult for me to come to you by having that ruffian watching you. Then hestarted spending every night with you. But I didn’t let that deter me, just like I never let Mother stop me.”
“Your sister was lucky to have you,” Casey croaked, the back of her throat bone-dry.
“I didn’t fail her,” he said softly. “I won’t fail you either.”
“You haven’t,” Casey whispered.
His friendly face vanished, replaced by a cold, steely glare as he quickly pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves from his pocket.
Casey moved on instinct. No thought. No fear. Just motion.
Devin lunged across the floor toward her, his hands outstretched. She pushed back the panic, focusing on the desk drawer. One of his hands gripped her shoulder and swung her around, her spine slamming into the edge of her desk. She brought her knee up, driving it straight into his crotch. A deep groan bought her a heartbeat of time. She yanked the drawer open, her fingers locking around the cold grip of her gun.
“Don’t fight it, princess. It won’t hurt,” Devin said, his voice dripping ice.
She whipped the barrel up just as he reached her.
“No!” he roared. “You’re my favorite princess of them all.”
He grabbed her hair.
She pulled the trigger.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space, leaving a sharp ring in her ears. Devin jerked, a strangled grunt sound knocked out of him. His feet tangled as he stumbled back, shock splintering his face. He looked down, then up at her, mouth opening like he couldn’t understand what had just happened. A dark stain began to spread on his shirt.
For a second, time seemed to freeze. Then he took a heavy step toward her. “You don’t understand, Casey. I picked you. I—”
Her finger squeezed the trigger a second time. The shot struck his thigh with a sickeningsmack. His leg folded beneathhim, and he crumbled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, the rope slipping from his fingers.
Smoke curled from the barrel. Casey didn’t scream. She didn’t drop the gun. Her arms stayed locked, wrists steady, exactly the way she’d been taught. Her heart slammed so hard it felt like it might split her open, but she didn’t move, didn’t lower the revolver, or look away.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice shaking but fierce. “Don’t move.”
Devin’s eyes slid to her, fever-bright. Not angry. Hurt. Like she’d disappointed him.
Before she could process the adrenaline dumping into her system, the front door burst open with a crash. Rags charged into the room, Glock in hand, eyes steely, scanning for danger. He skidded to a stop. His gaze snapped down to Devin bleeding on the floor, then tracked up to the revolver still gripped in her hands. then at her.
“You okay?” His voice was raw.
Casey nodded once. “Yeah.”
Something like awe cut through the fury on his face. Rags let out a breath that sounded like it had been tearing him apart from the inside. He stepped closer and gently lowered her weapon. “Remind me to never piss you off,” he said, voice low and rough.
“Rags.” Her voice hitched as she slumped against him.
