Sin’s room calls to me like a siren song. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m drawn back there anyway. The bed looks impossibly inviting after the emotional marathon of the morning. Before I can second-guess myself, I’m crawling under his sheets, surrounding myself with his scent.
The contradiction isn’t lost on me. I’m investigating this man for murder while finding comfort in his bed. But the weight of the day presses down on me, heavier than guilt, heavier than fear. The pillow smells like him, clean and faintly masculine, and the sheets whisper soft against my skin. Each breath settles something jagged inside me.
Despite everything, this feels…
… safe.
My body loosens by degrees, the tension unspooling until my eyelids grow heavy. Thoughts of Marcus tangle with flashes of Sin. His eyes, his voice, the ghost of his mouth on mine, until they blur together in a haze I can’t hold onto. The hum of the clubhouse, the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, and his scent cocooning me drag me deeper, pulling me under.
Sleep doesn’t slam into me. It steals me piece by piece until I slip away.
The desert road stretches out before me, the heat shimmering off the asphalt as I stand in the middle, the vividness of this place feels almost surreal. A motorcycle engine roars, but when I turn, I see nothing.
Just dust spiraling like smoke.
“Elizabeth.”
I spin, but it’s Marcus standing there, whole and alive, his familiar smirk fading into a hard, accusing glare. His eyes pin me, sharp with disappointment. My chest tightens, guilt sinking its claws deep. I want to run to him, to explain, but my feet won’t move.
Opening my mouth to speak, suddenly rough hands close over my hips from behind, and my body instantly reacts to the feeling.
Sin.
His breath scalds my neck as his mouth trails down my throat, a shiver of desire rushing through me. I sag back into him, torn, even as Marcus’ expression twists with betrayal.
Traitor,Marcus mouths, the word burning my skin, making me feel like I am literally on fire.
I try to scream at the intensity of the feeling, the sky darkens, lightning flickers without thunder as I look down at my skin blistering with the inferno burning me alive. Gold spills across the road at my feet, endless, faceless, blinding, and even with my body burning, I reach down to investigate, but every piece I touch turns to ash in my fiery fingertips.
With tears in my eyes that instantly turn to smoke as they hit my scorched skin, I peer up to find my brother, to beg for his forgiveness, but Marcus is gone.
Yet, Sin is everywhere.
His hands.
His voice.
His heat.
My body answers him, shame and lust snarling together until I can’t breathe. I try to pull away, but I can’t.
I don’t want to.
His flames become part of mine until we’re both on fire, joined together in an inferno. His eyes meet mine as we hold each other in the flames, his hand slowly rising to meet my cheek. He goes to speak when suddenly, sirens pierce through the void.
Wailing police sirens cut through the darkness, shrill and merciless, growing louder until they rattle my bones, so loud it hurts my ears. The sky explodes into screens, huge televisions floating overhead, flashing news broadcasts that scream louder than the sirens. Every channel shows the same thing—headlines announcing Las Vegas Defiance MC Taken Down. Grainy footage of raids, of men in leather being dragged into the streets, of Sin being shoved into the back of a police car. I turn to find him, but he’s nowhere to be found, and the inferno that was incinerating me has suddenly been extinguished.
Thunder cracks, light flashing white-hot across the nightmare sky, disorientating me. The sirens, the broadcasts, the thunder, it all blurs together until I feel like I’m spinning out of control.
Hands reach for me in the chaos. Sin’s rough and desperate through the television screens. Marcus’ steady but condemning. I stretch my arms toward them both, fighting to grab hold, to anchor myself. But no matter how hard I reach, no matter how much I beg, I can’t catch either one.
They slip away, vanishing into the thunderstorm.
The guilt claws deeper, dragging me down, down, and I scream, gasping for air. “I’m sorry!” I yell at the top of my lungs, but no sound actually comes out as the entire void keeps spinning out of control.
Just as I lunge for Marcus’ hand, Sin’s hand on my arm lights me on fire again, knocking all my air from me.
A murmur cuts through, low and indistinct. A hand brushes my arm, tugging me upward. I jolt in the dark space between dream and waking, lungs clamped tight, convinced for one breathless second, I’m still there, in the storm, with Sin’s hands on me and Marcus glaring me down.
