His eyes darken. “The one where she stops being a nuisance and starts being a threat.”
I swallow hard. “And then?”
“Then she disappears.”
The words are spoken so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that it takes a moment for them to fully land. When they do, a chill runs through me.
“You’d kill her?” I whisper.
“If I had to.”
“Just because she’s bothering me?”
His gaze sharpens. “Just because she’s threatening what’s mine,” he corrects.
Heat crawls up my neck despite the fear curling up it at the same time. “I’m not?—”
“You are,” he interrupts. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier this gets.”
I stare at him, heart pounding, not sure if I’m more afraid of him or of how much I want to believe him.
“Rest,” he says, his tone shifting, less sharp, more controlled. “I’ll be back.”
“When?”
He moves toward the door without answering me, and panic flares in my chest.
“Sting,” I call.
He pauses, glancing back.
“What if she tries something while you’re gone? I can’t say I won’t fight back. Because I will. Just so you know.”
His expression doesn’t change. “The door locks from the outside with my key,” he says. “No one gets in unless I let them.”
“And if someone picks the lock?”
“They won’t live long enough to regret it.”
Then he’s gone. The lock slides into place with a soft, final click.
I sit on the cot, staring at the closed door, my pulse still racing, my skin still prickling with the memory of her voice.
Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart.
I can’t stop thinking about the look in her eyes.
I just hope she saw the look in mine.
35
VI
Sting standsin front of me for a long moment, arms crossed, his gaze traveling over my face like he’s trying to decide something. The overhead lamp casts harsh shadows across his mask. Strangely, I think I’m getting used to the damn thing.
It’s crazy, what becomes the new normal.
Finally, he moves. He sits on the edge of the cot beside me, not touching but close enough that I feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that our knees almost brush.
