There.
It’s like a flicker of recognition, buried in the empty rot of her soul.
“Yes,” I whisper. “That one.”
His fingers flex at his sides.
“Interesting choice,” he muses. “Paralysis. Suffocation. Death by complete, creeping stillness. It prolongs suffering. Leaves the victim completely aware while their body shuts down.” He smirks slightly. “And, in small enough doses, it won’t even show up in standard toxicology reports. Perfect for someone who wants to kill in plain sight.”
I shudder. “Great. Love that. Nothing like a psycho with a scientific approach to murder.”
He cocks a brow. “You should find a lot to love in me then.”
“Oh, really? Why’s that?”
His smirks wider.
His smirk widens. “Because I’m about to give her a taste of her own medicine. And you… you’re coming with me.”
The night lingers in my bones.
I spent the entire night lurking in the abandoned hospital, and now the men are finally waking up.
Talon is the first to appear, stepping into the common room with a towel draped over his shoulders and nothing but khaki pants on. His torso? Completely bare.
And I? Completely unprepared.
He is not helping my newfound, highly inconvenient lust for him. Neither am I, because I cannot stop staring at him like my brain just deleted the function for looking away and he’s the only available focal point in the entire damn universe.
Talon notices. Oh, he definitely notices.
“Mm,” he purrs, strolling toward me. “Now that's how I want to be greeted in the morning.”
I say nothing. I am too busy committing his abs to memory. And apparently, he enjoys this a lot, because he tosses the towel onto a chair like he’s unveiling a goddamn masterpiece and stops in his tracks.
“Don’t be shy, Little Grim,” he murmurs. “Ogle away.”
That snaps me out of it. Just a little.
I manage to roll my traitorous eyes and wrench them back up to his smug, self-satisfied face before I make things even worse for myself.
“I wasn’t ogling,” I say, hoping the blatant lie will go unnoticed.
Talon smirks. Damn it.
“Oh? Then what were you doing?”
Think, Skye.Think.
“Um, trying to figure out how your ribs haven’t collapsed under the weight of your ego?” I deadpan.
His smirk widens. I regret everything.
Before he can make this worse, I turn toward the window. Outside, an unsettling amount of crows are loitering. Some perch on the rusted fence, others on the cracked pavement, and a few do ominous aerial circles like they’re waiting for someone to drop dead.
All of them are staring. Atme.
Talon follows my gaze, and—miracle of miracles—his smug expression falters.
