“A ghost,” I say.
Her frown deepens, and my lips curl into a slow smirk under the mask. That fire in her eyes… if she had a knife, she’d already be testing how deep she could sink it into me.
“Tell me something that isn’t on Google,” she challenges, hands on her hips, head tilted.
Fuuuuccckkk.
“We kill people,” Caleb says from behind her.
She jumps at the sound, and instinct sends her a step closer to me. One small motion, but it makes my pulse slam. She doesn’t even realize it yet, but I’d rip the world in half to keep her safe.
“So do I,” she fires back, arms crossing, trying to look unshaken, but her breathing gives her away. Caleb tilts his head, watching her the way a predator studies prey.
“We kill evil people,” I clarify. “Murderers. Rapists. Pedophiles. People hire us through a dark site.”
I move past her toward Caleb. He hasn’t moved, not for a second.
“So people pay you for that?” she asks, falling into step.
“Some do. Others… are pro bono,” Caleb says with a shrug.
She hums, not pushing. We descend into the basement, the air cooling with every step. I stop at the steel door and gesture. “Go on.”
Tamsin’s fingers twitch as she grips the handle. She pushes the door open, and the gasp that leaves her is pure, unfiltered satisfaction to my ears.
The room is draped in plastic sheeting, drains cut into the floor, and Sterling is chained naked to the wall, head down, shivering.
“I am never, ever, getting a dude naked again. He pissed himself!” Beau’s voice cuts from the corner as he sets the last scalpel on the table.
Tamsin turns to me. “You did this for me?”
The way she says it, like I’ve just flown her to Paris and set her at a table overlooking the Seine, makes something primal twist inside me.
“Yeah.” My voice is steady, but inside I’m already unraveling. She’s going to be my undoing.
“You two have fun.” Beau claps my shoulder on his way out.
“Thank you,” she says softly, eyes flicking to both men. They pause, nod once, and leave, closing the door.
“I’m going to leave you to it, hellcat,” I murmur, brushing my hand along her back as I pass. Just enough to feel her skin, but it’s nowhere near enough. I want to touch her. I want to kneel. I want to taste her until she forgets her own fucking name.
“Stay,” she whispers, stopping me mid-step. “If you want to.”
I turn, meet her gaze through the mask. “Yeah. I want to.”
I’m already hard in anticipation, because I’m about to watch her cut Sterling’s balls off.
Chapter Ten
The room is almost identical to the one in the cabin but here is more professional, organized, almost like a morgue designed by someone who enjoys their work far too much.
“Is this where you bring your victims?” I ask, leaning against the steel table lined with knives, scalpels, and tools I can’t name.
My masked man stands against the far wall, mask still on, arms crossed. Even under the hoodie I can see the tension in his shoulders, the coiled readiness in his stance, as if he’s just waiting for a reason to move.
“Sometimes,” he says. “If we need to dig out information.”
“How long have you been doing this?” I angle toward him, trying to catch a flicker of his eyes through the shadows.
