Page 23 of The Ache That Stayed

By the time I realised where I was, I was already parked.

Her place. I didn’t go in.

I sat on the bike and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl up into the dark dead night.

I took in a deep drag and watched the cottage. The stupid guards were probably curled up senseless in their beds, unaware that the treat loomed just outside her door. They were good. Just not good enough.

The windows stayed dark. I knew which one was her bedroom without thinking. And which light she left on when she couldn’t sleep.

I smoked another.

Then another.

Smoke burned my lungs. My ribs pulsed in time with my heartbeat, every breath dragging across bruised flesh.

I wondered—

If going inside would save her. Or ruin her completely.

The problem was, I no longer knew which outcome I wanted more.

The cigarette burned down between my fingers. The thought twisted like a blade. Saving her and destroying her felt like the same act, just different names.

I had already made a mistake of touching her, getting her here the other night. And my body hadn’t forgiven me for stopping.

Smoke curled up into the dark night. And all I could see was her. Her body beneath strobe light.

Black lace. Red mouth.

Mine.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 7

The Stranger

Rain eventually started falling sometime after midnight, cold enough to soak through denim and leech heat from skin.

Marcello, the caring bastard he was, had rented this place for her.

Safe. Quiet. Clean.

Two nights ago, when I carried her over the threshold, I had already decided. By sunrise, the paperwork transferring ownership into my name would be signed.

Ownership meant access.

Access meant control.

Control meant she was safe.

Security didn’t mean shit if I couldn’t enforce it. And right now, that was all I cared about.

Sean’s voice kept circling back like a bad echo, scraping through my skull.

She doesn’t belong to you. She never did.

I knew that. I’d known it for three fucking years. I didn’t need the reminder. But it didn’t stop anything.