“You will not lose me,” I promise, slow and deliberate.“You hear me?Not tonight.Not tomorrow.Not ever.”
Her eyes glisten in the dim truck cab light.
“You can’t promise that,” she whispers.
I lean closer, close enough that our foreheads nearly touch.
“I just did.”
Her breath shudders out.
For a moment, we just sit there, my forehead now on hers, storm raging around us, our breaths mingling in the dark cab, both of us clenched tight with adrenaline and fear.
Then I force myself to pull away before I forget all the reasons I shouldn’t kiss her senseless while she’s shaking.
“We’re leaving,” I mutter, shifting into gear.
The truck lurches forward.
“Where?”she asks, voice unsteady.
“A place even the Kings keep off books.”
She frowns.“Why didn’t we go there first?”
“Because I didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to follow us this deep.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m not taking chances.”
She nods and leans back, still breathing harder than normal.Her hands are closed in fists on her lap, little tremors running through her fingers.
Without thinking, I reach over and cover one with mine.
It’s not romantic.It’s not calculated.
It’s instinct.
Her fingers open, sliding between mine without hesitation.
My throat tightens.
She whispers, “I don’t want to be scared.Not of the dark.Not of forgetting.Not of who’s out there.”
“You got every right to be scared,” I say quietly.“But you’re not facing any of this alone.”
Her grip tightens.“I know.”
I force myself to look away from her, because the way she’s looking at me right now—Like she’s already halfway in love with me again and doesn’t know it—It’s too much.
We drive another ten minutes before turning down a dirt path almost invisible in the storm.
Branches scrape the sides of the truck.Mud splashes the wheels.The road disappears entirely for a moment, but I keep going until a dark mound of earth rises ahead.
Kelly’s brows knit.“This is a hill.”
“It’s a gate,” I correct.
