“You’re fucking incredible, Veronica,” I growl, my thrusts relentless.
“Yes, Grant, I’ll take it all!” she cries, her voice breaking as her body shakes, her mouth and hands still working Kai and Donovan. When it hits, it’s blinding—my vision whites out as I come inside her, a low growl tearing from my throat as I ride it out, her body shuddering beneath me.
I pull out, chest heaving, and catch Donovan’s sharp smile as he steps forward. “Alright, my turn,” he says, voice low and edged with hunger, as he moves to take my place.
3
SAMANTHA
Mom’s handfeels like paper in mine. Thin skin stretched over bones that jut out at wrong angles.
The hospice room is too warm, the air thick with the smell of industrial cleaner trying to mask something worse underneath. Machines beep steadily beside the bed, tracking a heartbeat that’s slowing down with each passing hour. I’m eighteen years old, and I’m watching my mother die, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do except sit here and hold her hand and pretend I’m not crumbling inside.
“Sam.” Her voice comes out as barely a whisper, rough like gravel.
“I’m here, Mom. I’m right here.” I lean closer, squeezing her fingers gently because I’m terrified of hurting her. Everything about her seems breakable now.
Her breathing changes. Gets rougher, wetter. There’s a rattle deep in her chest that makes my stomach turn.
The nurse warned me about this sound yesterday. Told me in that sympathetic voice that when the breathing changes like this, it means we’re close to the end.
But knowing it’s coming and actually hearing it are completely different things.
The rattle gets louder. Her chest heaves with effort, fighting for air that won’t come easily anymore. I squeeze her hand tighter, silently begging her to keep fighting even though I know it’s selfish. Even though I can see in her eyes that she’s already somewhere else, somewhere I can’t reach.
Then comes the sound I’ll never forget. That final grunt. Low and guttural and so completely wrong that my entire body recoils.
Her chest stops moving.
The machines start their awful, endless whine.
And I’m screaming, screaming, screaming?—
I bolt upright in bed, gasping like I’ve been underwater. Sweat soaks through my silk pajama top, making it cling to my skin. My heart is trying to break through my ribs. The scream is still trapped in my throat, clawing to get out.
“Keep it down,” Logan mutters from beside me, not even bothering to open his eyes. He rolls over, taking most of the blanket with him.
Notare you okay.Notwhat happened.Not even a concerned look in my direction because I’m a barking dog interrupting his beauty sleep.
I sit there in the darkness and roll my eyes. This isn’t the first nightmare that’s woken me up since we started dating. Won’t be the last either. And his response is always the same. Turn over, go back to sleep, pretend I don’t exist until morning.
My throat feels like I’ve swallowed sand. I need water.
I slip out of bed as quietly as I can and grab my robe from the chair near the window. Logan’s already snoring again, one arm thrown across his face, mouth hanging open. How romantic.
The hallway outside my room is dimly lit by sconces mounted along the walls, casting shadows that make everything look slightly menacing. I didn’t pay attention earlier when Logan showed me our room.
I turn left because it feels right. The carpet is so thick that my footsteps don’t make a sound. I pass one closed door, then another, then another. They all look identical. Expensive landscape paintings in heavy frames. Side tables with fresh flower arrangements. More doors.
The hallway branches off, and I pause, trying to remember which way leads to the main part of the house. Left? Right? Straight?
I pick left and keep walking.
More doors. More paintings. A grandfather clock tucked into an alcove that makes me jump when I pass it.
The hallway branches again, and I’m completely turned around now. Everything looks the same in this massive house. Who needs this much space? What are they hiding in all these rooms?
A clock somewhere chimes twice. It’s two in the morning. Perfect.
