“I should be terrified of you,” I whisper. “I should be plotting how to escape. How to turn you in.”
“But you’re not.” It’s not a question.
“No.” I pull his face closer to mine. “I’m plotting how we’ll take down Walsh together.”
The smile that spreads across his face is dangerous and beautiful—like witnessing a predator in its natural state. He bridges the remaining distance between us, capturing my mouth with his. His lips move against mine with aching softness, tongue seeking entry which I eagerly grant.
I moan into his mouth as his hand cradles the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. The kiss deepens,becomes a conversation without words. An exploration. A promise.
When we finally break apart, both breathless, I find myself blurting out, “It scares me how much I need you already.”
His eyebrows rise slightly, a rare moment of genuine surprise on his face.
“I mean it,” I continue, words tumbling out before I can filter them. “I barely know you—the real you—and already I can’t imagine being without this. Without you. It’s like... you’ve unlocked something in me I didn’t know was there. Or maybe I knew, but was afraid to acknowledge.”
Gabe pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re the first girl who’s ever seen all of me and stayed,” he murmurs.
“I’m not just staying,” I tell him, fingers trailing down his chest. “I’m diving in headfirst.”
His hand captures mine as it travels down his torso, bringing my fingers to his lips. He kisses each fingertip slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving mine.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs. “Not just your body. Your mind. The way you see everything. The way you understand my work.”
I can’t help but smile, even as something twists in my chest. “Most people would call that sick, not beautiful.”
“Most people live boring, conventional lives governed by arbitrary rules they never question.” He releases my hand, traces the line of my collarbone. “You and I—we see beyond those limitations. We understand there’s beauty in darkness, purpose in destruction.”
His words resonate deep within me, just like the perfect chord struck on a piano. It’s terrifying how well he understands me—perhaps better than I understand myself.
“Tell me more about Walsh,” I say, shifting to ease the pressure on my shoulder. “What exactly did you have in mind for him?”
Gabe’s eyes darken with anticipation. “I was thinking we should keep him alive for a while. Let him experience true fear before the end.”
“I want him to know it’s me,” I whisper, surprised by the venom in my voice. “I want him to know it’s because of what he did to all those women.”
“He’ll know.” Gabe cups my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “We’ll make sure of it.”
I lean into his touch, my body humming with a strange mix of desire and anticipation. This should horrify me—planning someone’s death, no matter how deserving. Instead, it feels like unleashing something that’s been caged inside me for years.
“What have you awakened in me?” I ask.
“Nothing that wasn’t already there,” he replies. “I gave you permission to embrace it.”
Gabe’s lips are soft against mine, a stark contrast to the bruising, demanding kisses we’ve shared before. This tenderness feels more intimate, more vulnerable than anything we’ve done. When he pulls away, his eyes hold mine with unexpected warmth.
“How about pancakes?” His thumb traces my jawline. “I make excellent pancakes.”
The sudden shift to something so mundane, so normal, catches me off guard. I laugh, the sound surprising both of us.
“What’s funny?” A smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
“Just trying to reconcile pancake-making Gabe with spikey-mask-wearing Gabe.”
“They’re the same person.” He kisses my forehead. “Just different aspects. You’re getting all of me, remember?”
I nod, oddly touched. “I’d love pancakes.”
In his kitchen, I perch on a stool wearing nothing but his button-up shirt. Gabe measures flour, cracks eggs with one hand, whisks with the other. He adds blueberries to the batter, and the smell makes my stomach growl.
