“Then we’ll find another way,” I say, leaning forward. My voice goes sharp, darker than I mean it to. “He isn’t untouchable. Not from you. And not with me backing you up.”
Her gaze holds mine, steady. She doesn’t flinch from my edge; she matches it. “You’re really okay with this? With me going after him? With me killing him?”
The word hangs between us.Kill. Not a metaphor. Not a threat.Intention.
I nod, slowly. “I know what he’s been doing. Someone has to stop him. You take him down, Willow. However you need. And I’ll be there. I’ll have your back covered however you need. I’ll clean it up. I’ll make it vanish. I’ll burn the whole clinic to the ground if I have to.”
Something softens in her eyes, but not in a sweet way—in aseenway. Like I’m not just saying the words; she believes I mean them. Because I do.
Her hand slips into mine, fingers tightening like a promise. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, squeezing back. “But I’m your insane.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but the hum of the air conditioning and the quiet thrum of our twin obsessions—hers for justice, mine for her.
And I think: Phoenix Marrow doesn’t stand a fucking chance.
“C’mon, Lucky. Enough murder talk for one night.”
I strip off my boots and follow her into her bed. She tucks herself against me like she was made to fit there. Her head on my chest. Her hair tickles my jaw. Her arm is slung across me, possessive.
For a guy who’s spent years sleeping alone, this feels obscene. Too good. Too much.
“You did good tonight,” she murmurs, voice muffled by my shirt.
I chuckle. “By surviving your sisters’ culinary hazing?”
“By not bolting when we introduced you to Grandma,” she says with a snort.
I grin into her hair. “Still not sure how I feel about reincarnation-cat staring into my soul, but…yeah. I like your sisters. A lot.”
Her laugh is soft, drowsy. She tips her chin up, looking at me. “You handled them. That means something.”
I kiss her forehead. Just a brush, but it feels like vows. “They’re good people. Loud. A little terrifying. But good.”
She makes ahummsound, but just hugs tighter to me.
We lie there in the ease of it, Strip lights flickering faintly through her curtains, her hand tracing lazy patterns against my ribs. It’s soothing, maddening, grounding—all at once.
“You’re dangerous, Lucky,” she whispers. “Not because of what you can do. Because of how safe I feel right now.”
The words gut me. In the best way.
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw. “Let me keep being dangerous for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
chapter fifteen
WILLOW
Two weeks.Two weeks of almost normal. Normal now means sleeping in Lucky’s bed more nights than not, waking up tangled in his arms, and getting snarky texts from him while I’m trying to work. It’s been two weeks since Lucky met my sisters. Since Iris tested his gag reflex with her herbal stew, and Opal introduced him to Grandma.
And Lucky hasn’t run. He’s simply pulled me in closer. He’s been there, every second of every day.
Except when we’re working.
And in between tarot reads, in between recording TikTok videos, I shift my personal project.
