Page 151 of Kill Feed

I shove at him again, watching as he takes it. “You wanted a show from the start, so let’s give them one.”

I surge forward, driving both hands into Dante’s chest with enough force to catch him off guard. He stumbles backward several steps until he’s beyond the shelter of the machinery, straight into the camera’s full view.

“I’m not fighting you,” is the last words he gets out before I shove him to the ground. One knee digs into his side, pinning him in place.

“I want to look you in the eyes while strangling you to death,” I exclaim, ripping the mask off, but that only makes me choke up more.

This is the first time since our date in the hedge maze that I’ve seen his face, and it’s killing me within, tearing a fucking hole through my insides.

My gaze absorbs his features like I’m seeing him for the first time: those soft chestnut eyes, thick lashes, and golden hair, down to the set of his lips and strong jaw.

I should destroy him while I can. While I’m still able.

So, I lift my fist, but it never lands. All while he just stares up at me with no trace of malice or that cocky grin of his.

My other hand tightens at the collar of his shirt as I beg my body to obey and hit this man already.

“Do it,” Dante finally says, noticing the hesitation. “If killing me is what it takes to make you believe I’d never drag you into Kill Feed, then do it.”

“Just fight me already,” I press harder, jaws sealed tight, but he only lets out a small huff.

“You still don’t fucking get it, do you?” His eyes soften, searching mine for any recollection. “I didn’t want you in this place. I wanted you in my apartment.”

My grip falters.

“I wanted you around in my day-to-day life, never leaving my side, even if it means I need to listen to you bitching about me taking good care of you. Letting me cook for you…” The faintest laugh escapes him. “Walking Ender together early mornings as the sun comes up just to end up wrestling her in the tub afterwards.”

Every word lands like a punch. I suck in a breath, trying to piece together the reason why my chest is tightening.

“I had your whole future planned,” he admits, gaze never leaving me. “You weren’t supposed to become part of Kill Feed, Adrian… you were supposed to become part of me.”

“W-what?” My throat clams up, as I let both my hands fall to my sides.

“I’ve killed for this place. I’ve lied for it and I’ve bled for it,” Dante continues, never once breaking eye contact, “but I’d burn every piece of it to the ground before I’d ever hand you over to it.”

I search his face for the lie. For the joke that I’ve become. Yet all I see is what has been in front of me this whole time; a man I’m utterly and irreversibly obsessed with because never once throughout the doubt and betrayals did I stop wanting him.

Stillness holds me like a vice as a dull ache blooms beneath my ribs.

At first, I dismiss it as an added consequence of the fall down the staircase, but it doesn’t stay there. It spreads slowly through my torso, tightening with every breath until it feels as though something unseen has wrapped itself around my lungs.

What the hell is this? What’s happening to me?

Something warm gathers beneath my eyes, and I furrow my brows. Another slow blink, and the warmth slips free, trailing down my cheek.

No—that can’t be right. I haven’t cried in years. Not after my mother and sister… So why now, why with him?

Dante reaches up and wipes the tears from my face with his thumb. He sits up, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against his chest, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Do you understand now?”

I’m at a loss for words, barely able to think straight, and instead I just sink into his embrace. I let him hold me, letting my body melt into his, but the moment turns to smoke as a deafening crack tears through the room.

The sound of a bullet ricochets off brick before my brain catches up with it.

Dante’s entire demeanor shifts. He moves instantly, shoving me away while twisting his body over mine, shielding me as we roll behind a large piece of machinery and out of harm’s way.

One arm cradles the back of my head against the floor while the other braces beside my shoulder as he asks, “Did you get hit?”