Chapter 32

VICTORIA – 

Another week has passed since we moved into the safehouse. Fourteen full days of quiet mornings, soft skin, whispered secrets, and something I never thought I’d admit craving – peace.

And her.

God, her.

Every day I watch her move through this space like she belongs here – belongs with me – and it does something to me I can’t quite explain. I used to think contentment was a weakness. A soft belly ripe for the stab. But with her… it’s like I finally understand what it means to exhale.

We’ve had deep talks – the kind that sit in your bones and change the shape of you. She knows more about me now than anyone ever did. She knows about the job, the rules, the way I keep score in my head. She even knows about the ones I regret, the faces I can’t forget. And still, she looks at me like I’m worth something.

And the sex…

Fuck, the sex.

I can’t even put into words what we’ve done to each other. How she makes me feel. How her hands can bring me down to my knees without ever asking. It’s not just good. It’s grounding. It’s her breathing against my skin, moaning into my mouth, whispering my name like a lifeline.

And I don’t want it to stop. Ever.

That’s why I made a decision.

Once all this is behind us – the threats, the shadows, the rot festering in the corners of our lives – Jason – I’m going to stop the side jobs.

I’m retiring.

It feels surreal just thinking it. But I’m done.

I can’t build a fearless future if I’m still in the game, still tied to death and secrets. I can’t keep dragging Avery through the wreckage I’ve built behind me.

I want her.

Not as a temporary escape. Not as a guilty pleasure.

I want her as my life.

And Darius will understand. He’s known me long enough to see the change. Hell, maybe he even expected it the moment I let her in. He always said something would eventually pull me out of the fire. I just never thought that something would be a woman with observing eyes, a sharp mouth, and a heart like a fucking cathedral.

I glance across the room now – she’s curled up on the couch, reading one of those dark, brooding books she’s obsessed with. Juno’s nestled beside her, purring, probably plotting my demise for stealing her human.

My chest tightens in that way it does now – that terrifying, beautiful ache I only feel around her.

I walk into the kitchen, pour myself a whiskey, and stare out the window at the still water of the lake.

The silence tonight tastes different.

It’s not the soft, gentle quiet we’ve grown into–filled with her humming while brushing her teeth, the scrape of a spoon against a bowl, the padded footsteps of that cat who’s somehow taken over half the bed, and to be honest, my life.

This silence… it’s hollow. Too clean. Like the world is holding its breath.

I’ve stared into these woods before. A hundred times by now. But tonight, I don’t blink.

Avery’s behind me, still curled into the couch, but she hasn’t turned the page in over ten minutes. She feels it too, even if she doesn’t say it.

Juno lifts her head. Ears twitch. One soft meow like a warning bell.

I put my drink down without taking a sip.

She looks up at me. “Something’s wrong?”

“No,” I lie. “Just… thinking.”

I move through the safehouse slowly, like I’m walking through water. Check the windows. Locked. Front door. Still secure. Gun loaded. Silencer nearby.

Everything is as it should be.

But it isn’t.

Because my skin is crawling. My instincts are clawing inside me like an animal locked in a box too long.

And I don’t want to say it. Because saying it makes it real.

I walk back toward her.

She closes the book. “Is it time to run again?”

I shake my head. Sit down beside her. My hand finds hers, fingers curling between hers without thinking. “No.”

Not yet.

She leans into me. And for a few brief seconds, I let myself believe this will last.

Her cheek presses to my shoulder, and she whispers, “You’re shaking.”

I didn’t even notice.

I let out a slow breath. Try to stop. Try to steady my voice. “Don’t you worry about me.”

She lifts her head to look at me, eyes wide, still trusting, still whole.

And in that moment, I know what I’ll do when the storm finally hits.

Anything.

Anything to keep her safe.

Even if that means the next bullet has my name on it.

***

AVERY –

She holds me tighter tonight.

It’s not obvious, not dramatic. If I didn’t know her body like I do now–the way her arm always drapes over my waist, the exact spot where her lips brush against the nape of my neck before we fall asleep–I might’ve missed it.

But I don’t miss anything when it comes to her.

She’s curled around me like armor. Like if she holds me close enough, the world won’t find a way in. And I don’t ask. I don’t say, Are you okay? or What’s wrong? Because I already know the answer.

Something is wrong.

But she’s trying to shield me from it. So I let her.

Her breath is warm against my shoulder, steady. Her body solid, grounding, and yet… there’s something coiled tight beneath her skin. Like a wire pulled taut.

Juno’s sprawled at the foot of the bed, tail twitching. She’s restless too.

“I love you, you know,” I whisper into the dark.

She doesn’t answer right away. But I feel her fingers tighten around mine. Just for a moment.

Then her voice, low, near my ear. “I know.”

I close my eyes. I think about what we built here, even if it’s just temporary. This soft bubble we’re floating in. The fire. The lake. The quiet. I could stay here forever if she asked me to. If the world would let us.

“Can I ask you something?” I murmur.

“Anything.”

“What does forever look like to you?”

She goes still. Like the question reached too far, touched something sacred.

Then she exhales, her voice a rasp of honesty I didn’t expect.

“It looks a lot like this.”

I turn toward her. Press my forehead to hers. Her nose brushes mine.

And for a while, we don’t speak. We don’t kiss. We don’t move.

We just breathe.

As if some part of us already knows this night is the last before everything changes.