"Because I'm not him." His eyes hold mine, steady and sure. "And I never will be."
I want to believe him.
Want to trust that this is different, that he's different, that I'm different.
The old Ripley would have pulled away, would have retreated into her shell and locked the door behind her.
But I'm trying to be a new Ripley now.
One who doesn't let fear make all her decisions.
"Okay," I say softly. "I believe you."
The tension in his shoulders eases, just slightly.
He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"Come on," he says. "Let's get out of here."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere quiet. Just the two of us."
I take his hand and let him lead me away from the bar, away from the noise and the people and the echoes of the past.
Somewhere behind me, I can feel Cain's voice trying to whisper its poison.
I don't listen.
CHAPTER 8
Leviathan
The raid happens around two in the morning.
I'm at the clubhouse, going over financials with Klutch, when my phone lights up.
The text is from our manager at Steel Kittens—three words that make my blood run cold.
Cops. Everywhere. Help!
I'm on my bike before the screen goes dark.
By the time I get there, the parking lot looks like a war zone.
Six cruisers, lights flashing.
A dozen officers, some in uniform, some plainclothes.
They've got the girls lined up against the wall—dancers, bartenders, the women who work the back rooms—hands on their heads like they're criminals.
I park my bike and walk toward the chaos, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.
No sudden moves. No aggression. Just a business owner checking on his property.
A plainclothes detective intercepts me before I reach the door. "Sir, this is an active investigation. I'm going to need you to?—"
"This is my club." I keep my voice calm. Pleasant, even. "I'd like to know what's going on."
