They’re all treating me as if I’m fragile. Something to be locked away for my own good.
I grind my teeth, pacing my apartment for what has to be the hundredth time this morning.
And worse—he’s out there. Across the street.
Finn.
I don’t want to think about yesterday, but my body does. His hands on me. His mouth dragging over every inch of my skin. The way his eyes burned, seeing me as something holy, as his, even though I know better.
I shouldn’t feel this. Not after everything in that file. Not after what Hunter told me.
But he was forgotten. Locked away. Ignored. Left to rot,erased as though he never existed. And still—he clawed his way out of the dark. Turned himself into something. Someone.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. No. I can’t let my heart get involved here. Finn isn’t some sad, broken thing that needs my sympathy. He’s dangerous. Obsessed.
And I—I’m not supposed to want that.
But I do.
And that’s the real fucking problem.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
“Go away,” I snap before I even know who it is.
Silence.
Then—Carson’s voice, smooth and coaxing. “Not a chance, peaches.”
I groan, dragging my hands over my face before stomping over to the door. When I yank it open, Carson leans against the frame, arms crossed, lips curled into that easy smirk of his.
“You look like hell,” he says, hazel eyes sweeping over me, smug and all too knowing.
I fold my arms. “And you look too pleased with yourself. What do you want?”
He doesn’t move. Just tilts his head, lazy confidence dripping off him. “Thought I’d come check on you. Make sure you didn’t throw yourself out the window in protest.”
I glare. “Ha. Ha.”
He pushes off the doorframe, stepping into my space, owning it the way he always does. “Don’t be difficult.”
I arch a brow. “Difficult? You mean furious? Betrayed? Kidnapped?”
He presses a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “Ouch, baby. Brutal.”
I roll my eyes and stalk back inside, leaving him in thedoorway. He follows, of course, shutting the door behind him as though he belongs here.
“I’m not in the mood, Carson,” I warn, dropping onto the couch. “Go away.”
He falls onto the cushion beside me, thigh brushing mine. “I could. Or I could stay here and be your favorite captor.”
I scowl. “Youaremy favorite captor.”
His grin spreads slow, wide, like I just handed him the best gift of his life.
I huff. “That’s not a good thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing, either.” He winks, nudging my leg with his knee. “Come on, peaches. Don’t tell me you actually prefer Gloom & Doom over me.”
