“My parents had been in it for years. They joined together, though they didn’t realize what it was at the time. But all the signs were there. The extreme beliefs. The forced community. The money grabs. The inability to question authority. The weird rituals. I was born there. Same with Iris and Opal. But when I was six…” My words come out strained, tight. I have to take a second, catch my breath. I clear my throat. The memories come hazy, like static-filled TV, but the feelings are sharp as glass. “The leader was this charismatic bastard. Everyone thought he was touched by God or fate or whatever. The devotion he instilled in people… I’ll never understand it. But when I was six, he—” I stop. My tongue feels heavy.
Kade’s hands tighten where they rest on the counter, his knuckles whitening, like he suspects where this is going.
I force it out. “He asked my parents for my hand in marriage.”
The silence between us is thick enough to choke on. The Strip glitters through the windows, loud and alive, but up here in this penthouse, it feels like another world.
“What the fuck?” Kade barks out, his brows furrowing. This is not what he expected me to say.
“And he meant then. He wanted to marry me then, as a six-year-old.” The disgust is making my words shake. My hands, too. I pin them between my knees. “He already had three otherwomen he called his wives. And then one child, she was only fourteen. And then there was me, six fucking years old.” My stomach turns, and suddenly I regret eating any of the nachos.
“My mom…” My chest tightens, but this part is easier, because it’s the part where she was the hero. “She finally snapped awake. Saw it for what it was. She grabbed me, Iris, and Opal, and got us out. I don’t know what the discussion was, the reasons why, but our dad didn’t come with us. We never saw my dad again. I don’t know if he’s still in there, if he’s dead, if he just didn’t care enough to leave with us. But our mom took us out of there and never looked back.”
Kade doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. His whole body is locked like a statue.
I laugh, brittle. “So, yeah. A grown ass man wanted to take me as his bride as a six-year-old. My foundation for men was pretty fucked up right out the gate.”
It takes him a second, but his voice comes out low and raw. “Willow…”
I cut him off with a shake of my head. I’m not done. Now that I’ve cracked the past open, it’s all rushing out of me like vomit. “Then there was my first real relationship. College. First semester. I thought I was grown, thought I was smart. But he was twelve years older than me. A professor.” I swallow, eyes dropping to the countertop. “Not one of mine, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Flirted. Pushed. Used every ounce of his authority to blur lines until I was too tangled to see straight. He made me think I wanted things I wasn’t ready for. And when I finally saw it, when I finally tried to pull back, it was too late. I wasn’t me anymore. I was his pawn. And I hated myself for it.”
The words scrape raw out of me, and I realize my nails are biting into my palms.
I drag in a shaky breath and force my eyes up to meet his. “So, when you wonder why I do it—why I kill men like TravisBell, like the others—it’s because I’ve seen the dark side of men with power my whole damn life. I can’t stomach watching them keep getting away with it. Not when I can do something.”
For the first time, Kade looks… shaken. His jaw is tight, his throat bobbing like he’s swallowing glass. He leans forward, elbows braced on the counter, like he wants to close the distance but doesn’t dare yet.
“I don’t think you’re a monster,” he says finally, voice gravel rough. “I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
And holy shit, I want to believe him. My entire body shakes with it. Something bites at the backs of my eyes, threatening to pool. But I won’t let it. Kade is looking at me like I’m a damn warrior goddess.
For a long moment, the silence stretches. I hate silence. It gives space for regret to sneak in. For shame to stretch its claws back into me. But Kade doesn’t look away. His eyes are so sharp, so alive, like he’s memorizing every syllable I just gave him.
“I didn’t think I’d ever find someone with a history as fucked up as mine.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
He leans back on the stool, drags a hand down his jaw, the scrape of stubble loud in the quiet. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly grow up in the Brady Bunch. My family… they were into things. Illegal things.” His lips curve in a wry smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Think less white picket fence, more crime syndicate.”
My brows rise, but I don’t say anything.
“They were taking me down a path I didn’t want,” he continues. “You’re driven by justice. That wasn’t the case with my family, and I saw it for what it really was, the older I got. Didn’t really matter what I wanted. They weren’t big on choice. They wanted me locked into their world, their business. Their rules.” He shakes his head, looking out the window like maybe he’ll see the ghosts he left behind reflected in the Strip’s neon. “IfI’d stayed, I wouldn’t be here. I’d either be in prison or six feet under. That’s not dramatic. That’s just the math.”
There’s a bitter edge in his voice, but beneath it—a weariness. Like carrying this history has carved something heavy into his bones.
The pieces are starting to fit together, just a little bit. He’s still left most of them out. He’s still keeping some of his cards close to his chest. But he’s giving me glimpses.
Not-Kade leans forward, elbow braced on the countertop, every inch of his focus aimed at me. “Maybe now you see why I protect my identity like my life depends on it. Because it does. If the wrong people knew where to find me…” He lets it trail off. He doesn’t have to finish. I can fill in the blanks.
And suddenly, I do understand. Why he hides behind masks and smoke. Why even his name tastes false on my tongue. Why I’ve never met anyone more impossible to pin down.
For the first time, I don’t just see the magician, the acrobat, the obsessive stalker with the green eyes that undo me—I see thesurvivor.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I say, my words low and hoarse, like I’m speaking a secret. “And just so you know, none of what you just told me is going in the blackmail folder.”
Mutual blackmail. That’s how we started. What kept us at bay.
We’ve both just given each other more ammo. More details. More reasons to put the other in jail or be exposed.
