His fingers find mine, threading through them. They’re so goddamn cold.
“Anyway,” he says after a pause, voice low, almost ashamed, “this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone all this. Even the guys only know I’ve lost people. Not how.” He takes a breath that trembles. “Rhea got caught in a gang mess back home. Two crews at war, and one thought hurting me meant taking her. Rey’s boys broke into her apartment while I was out on a job. They killed her.”
He looks down, jaw tightening. “After that… I found them. Hunted them. You can probably guess what came next.”
“Something not very lawful, huh?” I say, trying for a soft joke.
I can guess what really happened just fine. What gets me isn’t the violence—it’s how young he must’ve been. Early twenties, maybe. That’s supposed to be the age of making mistakes, not burying people you love. I mean, I have to believe that—otherwise how do I explain being so damn gullible with my ex-husband? I was still learning how life worked.
Talon didn’t get that luxury. He was thrown into the deep end and never even saw the shore.
And if he lived in a world where death was a commodity…
No wonder he came out like this.
“What, not even a grimace?” he asks, searching my face. “I just confessed to multiple murders, a tragic backstory, and that I was originally into you because you were dead—and you’re just sitting there?”
I think about it for a beat.
“You know what? You’re right.” I grab the bottle, take a long swig, and let the burn tear its way down my throat before handing it back. “There. Is that a better reaction?”
His eyes go half-lidded, gaze soft and sharp all at once, like he’s seeing me for the first time, and like he’s known me forever.
“No, but really,” he murmurs. “What do you think of me now? Any change of heart?”
I dig around in my chest for the answer. The sense of newness is still there. So is the burn in my stomach. His hand is steady against mine, the air cool, the taste of revenge against Mark still sweet… But nothing abouthimfeels different. No disgust. No shock. Just surprise, maybe. And something gentler underneath.
“I’m glad you told me,” I say finally. “Really.”
“That’s it?” he presses.
I give a small laugh. “What do you want me to say, Talon? I knew you were a messed-up murderer from the start. Somehow, I still ended up liking you. And all that—” I wave vaguely at the air between us—“that’s in the past anyway.” I pause, smirking. “Unless you still see me as your fair-game ghost. In which case, we might have a problem.”
He exhales, drops his head, then lifts it to the sky before looking back at me.
“Hell, no,” he says. One heartbeat later, he’s right in front of me, eyes locked on mine with that burning focus that steals the air out of my lungs. “I’m in love with you, Skye. You’re not a ghost to me. You’re it. The love of my life.”
The words hit hard and fast.
“Talon…”
“I mean it,” he says, voice lower now. “I’m fucking wrecked for you.”
My heart skips a beat, then another.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly. “I’ve been married. I know how—”
“Don’t compare me to that lowlife, Mark.” His tone cuts through mine. “I know what this is, Skye. If I could throw it all away and just be a Grim Reaper with you forever, I would. We’d take the guys, sign a deal with Death himself, and just… exist. Together. That’s all I want.”
The tequila burns warm in my ribs like an ember. I lift my hand to his cheek. It’s rough under the blood he missed when he cleaned up. He leans into my touch, eyes closing for a second.
“Say it again,” I murmur.
He opens his eyes. “I’m in love with you, Skye.”
Something inside me… something that’s been pacing for what feels like forever, finally sits still. I let out the breath I’ve been hoarding since the first time he called me Little Grim and I thought my existence was ruined. But this isn’t ruin. It’s the goddamn opposite.
“Okay,” I say, because it’s the only word that feels right. “Okay.”
