Page 97 of Villains Never Die

It was going to destroy me.

I slipped on sweatpants to try to warm some of the chill, but it was so deep inside me I didn’t think it would ever heat again. Even the weight of my blankets didn’t help as I climbed into bed.

A few minutes later, the door creaked softly in the main room. Rook must have slipped his shoes off; his footsteps were soft as they padded into the bedroom. He climbed into the bed next to me, lending me some of his body heat, and waited for me to speak first.

Anything I would have said got lodged in my throat. I’d worked so hard, built so much, drenched my hands in blood to get here, and I was a failure. No earthly success, no epic power over this city, would ever change that. Inside, I would always be destroyed.

But his hand touching my spine in long, languid strokes lessened the ache.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I said.

“Yes, I do. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“The fights—”

“The money rolls in whether or not I’m there,” he said. “My crew can handle it until I get back. You should try to sleep.”

“I wish I were dead.”

“You don’t mean that,” he said. “Besides, you’d just come back and have to listen to me give you shit about wasting a life. I meant it when I said you’re mine. That doesn’t have an expiration date.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s the only thing that’s not.” My bones rattled with it. Loving him was the only easy thing left, the only thing real and full and not a complete and utter fucking disappointment.

“What am I even going to do?” My voice came out scratchy and weak, like it was trying to disappoint me too. There was no strength left in it, none in my body or my soul. I hadn’t felt so weak since the night I couldn’t stop the blood from leaving my mother’s body.

He pressed himself against me, skin hot and arm tightening around my middle, like he was willing to lend me some of his strength too.

“You have a warehouse full of information on Death. Until you exhaust every fucking resource you have, you don’t get to give up.”

“Or what?”

He huffed a laugh against my neck and it ruffled my hair. “Or you’ll find out just how insufferable I can be. This means so much to you. The ritual can’t be the only way. You just need to be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for eight years. I could have stayed in England, living a bland, normal life.”

He nipped my shoulder and the pinch of his teeth soothed something in me. “I’m glad you didn’t. Anyway, this is going to have to wait. We need to deal with Emmett.”

“Easy. I’ll wait until he leaves his office this week and send some of my guys to grab him. We’ll take him to the basement and make it quick. I have no reason to torture him. I just want him gone.”

“I don’t think we should involve anyone else,” Rook said. “More people means more mouths to squeal if they’re questioned. We can handle him between the two of us.”

I jerked my chin in a small nod. “Fine.”

“It’s a date,” he teased.

“Only you would think political assassination is romantic.”

He reached across me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s time for you to sleep.”

But he was the one snoring softly ten minutes later, while I lay awake staring at the way the open curtains let the city’s unblinking lights cast over his face.

Gray.

Death.