Sophia’s gaze locked onto the wrapped ring box sitting beside me in the back seat. “You haven’t opened my gift.”
Oaklyn’s shoulders tensed. “Not yet.”
Sophia looked out the window, the silence heavy. The tension between them crackled in the air.
“Um, I think there might be a chimera at Lighthouse Park,” I said, my voice small. “Maybe more than one. My algorithm shows unusual activity there.”
I zoomed in on the cluster of data points, where multiple people had shared strange sightings on social media lately. There was either one very active chimera or several in the area.
Sophia smoothed the net across her lap. “Then that’s where we’ll go first thing tomorrow.”
Oaklyn gave a quiet laugh of disbelief. “Impressive, Hazel.”
We exchanged a look in the mirror, and there was something hungry in her eyes that lit a spark in my belly—like a silent promise of what would happen when we got back. As heat built inside me, I had to look down, too aware of Sophia’s presence inches away.
“I’ll stay at your place tonight,” Sophia said. “Where will you two go instead?”
Her boldness caught me off guard until I remembered who we were dealing with. Of course this woman who just battled a dozen witches and leaped from a thirty-story building wouldn’t hesitate to commandeer her daughter’s apartment.
“We can sleep at mine,” I said. “Wyatt too.”
“Very good.”
End of discussion.
God, that woman irks me. The way she treats Oaklyn, and the way she thinks the world is at her command… I’d love to see her taken down a peg.
Half an hour later, the moment we got to my apartment and shut the door, Oaklyn pressed me against the wall, her breath hot on my neck. The feel of her body brought a rush of comfort, making everything else less important.
“I can’t decide,” she whispered roughly, “whether I should stay furious with you for betraying me, or reward you for being so fucking brilliant.”
“Why not both?” I suggested, my breath hitching.
She laced our fingers and pinned my hands above my head with bruising strength. “You like it when I get rough with you, don’t you?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Come on.” She pulled me toward the bedroom, already tugging my shirt over my head. Before she pushed me onto the bed, she paused, her expression serious. “You could have gotten yourself killed though. I told you not to do something like that again.”
The genuine concern in her voice took me by surprise. Hours ago, she’d been ready to kill me, and now she was worried about my safety.
I furrowed my brow, searching her face for the truth. “I knew what choice I was making. I believe in what you’re fighting for.”
Something softened in her eyes. She stepped in and cupped my face in her hands, her touch gentler than expected. “When you said you loved me earlier… Was that real?”
My breath caught. The question was so vulnerable. This fierce, dangerous woman who had battled a horde of witches was now looking at me with uncertainty. In the soft lamplight of my bedroom, with her hair messy and her makeup smudged, she looked younger and more human.
“It’s real,” I whispered, my heart beating faster.
It wasn’t just the adrenaline and danger. It wasn’t infatuation or some weird form of Stockholm syndrome or whatever. The way I felt when I was with her, from the moment we met, was veryreal.
It feels like there are two versions of us—the one with the fighting and betrayal, and the one where everything is normal, and we’re just two mildly insecure people falling madly in love.
She studied my face as if searching for any sign of deception. Her blue eyes traced every feature, lingering on my lips. Then she kissed me hard, her hands firm on my waist, pushing me back onto the bed.
“I love you too,” she murmured, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck and chest. “I didn’t mean to. But here we are.”
For a moment, I froze, absorbing her words in disbelief. Did she really feel that way? Or was she just saying that?
