She was a fool. She knew it even as her fingers trembled and her stomach tightened. She knew Kane was chaotic, charming, tragic, unpredictable. She knew trying to understand him was like trying to snatch raindrops from the air. She hadn’t been lying when she said he was a mess, but she was something of a mess herself. They were too similar—perhaps that was the problem. They would break each other into unrecognizable pieces. They would set the world on fire purely by accident and watch as it burned down around them.
She was going tobetrayKane. Would kissing him like this—like her very soul would crack if she pulled away—help her do that? Would it make him trust her more than he ought to if he believed she truly felt something for him?
And then, the thought that made Zaria’s heart turn over: What if he was kissing her for the same reason?
Once the idea crossed her mind, she couldn’t escape it. She ripped away from Kane, bracing both hands against his chest to shove him back. Confusion darkened his gaze as he stumbled, still breathing heavily, his hair mussed where she’d run her fingers through it.
“I have to go,” Zaria huffed, ducking to the side as she made to leave.
Kane moved with impossible stealth, blocking her exit. He held the door shut, fingers splayed against the wood, veins in the back of his hand straining. “Stay. Just a little longer.”
It wasn’t a request but a command. He couldn’t even ask her a question—he had to pose it as an order.
God, how had she allowed herself to soften toward him even for a second? Kane was using her. And she had all but asked for it, fool that she was.
Coward.
Well. She would use him right back, and they would see who cracked first.
“Good night, Kane,” she said coolly, slapping his arm away and yanking the door open. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Assuming I feel like it.”
He didn’t say another word as she swept past him out into the dusk.
KANE
THIS TIME, KANE DIDN’T FOLLOWZARIA. HE DIDN’T NEED TO. He knew she wouldn’t be in danger tonight.
Tonight, the danger was here.
He’d requested a meeting with the kingpin and received word that he would pay a call later tonight. That was unusual. It wasn’t often Ward deigned to meet anywhere other than the place he was currently conducting business from. As a result, Kane had needed Zaria to disappear. He’d gone out to the workshop with the intention of pissing her off, hoping that would compel her to leave of her own accord, but the state in which he’d found her had thrown him completely off track. He had forgotten to infuriate her. Instead, fool that he was, he’d tried to convince her that he cared about her.
And then he’d kissed her.
He shouldn’t have let her goad him into it. He’d tried to tell himself it was convenient—that Zaria might trust him more if she thoughthe felt something for her—but he hadn’t expected the raw, animal desire that ripped his chest open when their mouths met. Even now, he could still feel the heat of her lips. Could still taste the bittersweet flavor of her self-hatred. For that brief moment, Kane knew he would have done anything Zaria asked. He would have lain down in the dirt and let her walk the distance of the earth across his back.
Then she’d drawn away, severing the connection with a finality that hurt Kane like a physical blow.
He was so irrevocably fucked.
Fletcher had retired to bed a few hours ago, but Kane hadn’t followed suit. If his friend noticed anything was amiss, he hadn’t commented on it, though he’d lingered at the bottom of the stairs for longer than usual.
Kane stayed awake, balancing a glass of whiskey on the armrest of the chair he so often occupied. Waiting. The room grew cooler, but he didn’t light a fire. The sky outside shifted to the navy hue of midnight, camouflaging the haze of smog, and still Kane didn’t move. The lifting of the glass to his lips was automatic. His eyes fixed on nothing in the corner of the room, and his mind spun and spun until alcohol turned his thoughts into something less coherent. Until it softened the edges of whatever demon reared inside of him, snarling to get out.
Kane didn’t know what time it was when the knock on the door came.
He was drunk enough at this point not to feel anything but a mild irritation as he pushed himself to stand, abandoning his drink. He swiped his gun off the table on his way to the door and shoved it into his waistband—a futile precaution. When he yanked the door open, it took a moment for the figure on the top step to swim into focus.
Kane’s stomach churned. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he was unprepared.
“Ward.”
The kingpin’s golden eyes found his, conveying mild disdain. He looked impeccable as always, not a hair out of place as he removed the hat poised atop his head. His black jacket was buttoned up to the throat. “Good evening, Kane.”
The greeting was disarmingly pleasant, and Kane fought to gain control of himself as apprehension sunk its claws in. He regretted the whiskey now. He preferred to have all his wits about him when dealing with Ward.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Amusement lined the planes of Ward’s face as his gaze sharpened.
“You certainly took your time.”
