"What now?" she asks.
"Now we wait. See if anyone comes looking."
"And if they do?"
"Then I'll protect you. Both of you. Whatever it takes."
"Even if it means killing again?"
"Yes."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she steps closer, her hand coming up to touch my face. "You could have left. When you saw that car, you could have kept walking to town. Pretended you didn't see it. Let him take us."
"Never in a million years would I let him take you."
"Why?" She searches my eyes. "You don't even know who you are. You have no obligation to us. No reason to—"
I silence her with a kiss.
It's desperate, consuming. All the fear and rage and relief pouring into it. She makes a sound in the back of her throat and kisses me back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in the towel around my waist.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"I have every reason to," I say roughly. "Because you're mine. Because Elena's mine. Because I'd burn the world down before I let anyone hurt you."
She stares at me, something shifting in her expression. Then she takes my hand and kisses it. "Come with me." She leads me out of the bathroom, down the hallway. Past Elena's closed door. To her bedroom. She closes the door behind us and turns to face me.
"I need you," she says simply. "After everything that happened today. After thinking I might lose you. I need—"
I cross the room in two strides and kiss her again. This time slower. Deeper. Pouring everything I can't say into it.
She responds immediately, her hands sliding up my chest, into my hair, pulling me closer.
Chapter 20: Isabella
Lupo stands there, water still dripping from his hair, the towel I wrapped him in barely clinging to his hips. In the soft glow from the bedside lamp, I can see every scar, every bruise, every mark that tells the story of a violent life I'm only beginning to understand.
He killed a man today. For me. For Elena.
And I'm not sorry.
I should be horrified. Should be running. Should be putting as much distance between us as possible. Instead, all I want is to be closer.
"Isabella." His voice is rough. "If you're doing this because you think you owe me—"
"I'm not." I step closer, my hands already reaching for him. "I'm doing this because I want to. Because I need to."
"Why?"
The question hangs between us. Why am I doing this? Why am I choosing a man who just committed murder? A man who doesn't even know his own name?
Because when I watched him drive away tonight with a body in the trunk, I realized something.
I can't lose him. Won't survive losing him.
"Because you came back for me," I say quietly. "Because you could have kept walking this morning. Could have let Draco take us. Could have saved yourself. But you didn't."
"I couldn't—"
