His thumb traces over my bottom lip again, and my breath catches. The contrast between the cruelty in his words and the tenderness of his touch makes my head spin. Every second, I feel myself slipping further and further into the vortex he’s created. I want to resist, I should resist, but something in me craves this. Craves him.
“Let me go,” I say again, but this time, it’s quieter, almost pleading, even though I hate myself for it.
He laughs softly, the sound dark and knowing. “You don’t get to make that decision, little bird. Not anymore.”
Then, in a move so quick I barely register it, his lips are on mine again, hard and insistent, claiming me with a possessive kiss that leaves no room for argument. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing soft. It’s all heat, hunger, and raw power.
And for the first time, I don’t fight it. Instead, I lean into him, my lips parting, giving him access. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I’m too far gone to care. Maybe the darkness that surrounds us has gotten to me. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to realize that I’ll never truly escape him.
When he pulls back, there’s no smug grin on his face. Just a cold, calculating stare. “See? You do want me.”
I hate him for it, but I can’t deny it. There’s a part of me—too much of me—that does.
“Don’t worry, Dove,” he says, his voice soft now, almost… tender, if you could call it that. “You’ll learn to love it. To love me. One way or another.”
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his words crush down on me, and for the first time, I can’t see an escape.
And maybe, deep down, I don’t want one.
17
ASHTON
Istand at the window, staring out at the balloons. Bright, colorful, a constant reminder of the circus that’s creeping closer every damn day. The way they arrive—slowly, consistently—feels like a countdown, each one marking the seconds before something inevitable happens.
Lilith is closing in. I can feel it in my bones, like a predator watching its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. She knows I see her, knows that I feel the tension thickening between us. What she doesn’t know is that I’m no longer sure I can control this situation. Not with Dove so close, so fucking vulnerable.
Did Lilith know Dove was here? Is that why the balloons keep showing up, one after the other, like an endless parade of taunting reminders? Or is this all just part of the torment, her way of dragging me back into a past I’m trying to outrun?
Lilith. She’s always been an inconvenient piece of my past, someone I should’ve let go a long time ago, but I can’t. There’s something about her that tethers me—her darkness, her strength, the way she saved me back in that damnchildren’s home. She was my lifeline back then, and in some sick way, I thought I was hers. But that was before I saw her for what she really was. Before I realized the depth of her own sickness.
And now, here I am, staring out this damn window, counting the balloons, waiting for her to make her move. She doesn’t know what I’ve built here with Dove, but that doesn’t mean she won’t tear it all down the second she finds out.
Every second that Dove is here, it’s like I’m holding my breath, knowing that the next moment could be the one that shatters everything. Maybe Dove’s right. Maybe I should let her go. I can’t protect her from Lilith, and Lilith’s sick obsession with the asylum… it’s too dangerous. Too many unanswered questions. And Bentley James—fuck, I still haven’t gotten the damn files. I need to know what the hell connects him to Dove, why she’s haunted by his shadow.
The thought of losing Dove, of letting her go, cuts me in a way I didn’t think I’d feel again. I’m so close to breaking her, to seeing the fear and the need in her eyes every time we’re near each other. But if I let her go now, I lose it all. I lose her.
And I can’t let that happen.
I know it’s dangerous, and yet I don’t care. This—her—has become my everything. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk her being taken from me. Not when I’m so close to making her mine.
My phone vibrates, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I grab it, already knowing what it is before I even check the screen.
It’s from the asylum.
I press open the email, every muscle in my body tensing as I skim the contents. The file on Bentley James is there.
But something doesn’t sit right.
I should feel a sense of relief, but instead, a cold chill sweeps over me.
This… this is worse than I thought.
I stare at the screen, my thoughts a blur. I know one thing for sure. Lilith is only the beginning of the storm I’ve let in. And now, with Bentley James connected to Dove in ways I can’t even fathom, I realize that I might’ve just brought the worst kind of chaos into our lives.
And there’s no way out. Not now. Not ever.
The tensionin the air between Dove and I is thicker than ever, and it’s suffocating me. Every time I look at her, I see the cracks in the porcelain mask she’s been wearing. The remnants of pain, the flickering moments when she almost lets it slip—her fears, her trauma. It’s been eight years since her parents were slaughtered in cold blood, but she still carries it like a curse.
