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I didn’t kill Jack to lie here and take this!

Raising my head, I take his earlobe in my lips. Vladimir shudders with pleasure as I flick it with my tongue. His fingers find my panties, and he shifts, rolling his hips to the side so that he’ll be able to remove them.

Blocking out the sensation of his fingers against my thigh as my panties slide down my legs, I shift to roll him over. “I like to be on top,” I say into his ear.

Vladimir’s laugh rumbles through his chest and shakes my will, but I have to keep up this charade for just a little longer. I find his lips and kiss him like a director is filming every second—this is the man I love, and he’s going off to war.He’s about to die, and this is the last time I’ll ever get to touch him.

Vladimir’s hands squeeze my waist as my thighs press around him. I raise up over him and reach for the hem of my shirt. He watches, his eyes wide as saucers and dark with hunger, as I pull it over my head. I’m naked astride him, his eyes roving over my bare flesh. I smile down at him.We will be the greatest lovers of all time. Better than any novel. We are meant to be.

Vladimir believes the lie.

I spin the T-shirt above my head, joking now.Playful.

The old rotary phone is right there, right above his head, but I don’t look at it.Don’t telegraph my intentions this time.I keep my gaze on him, keep spinning that T-shirt. Until I release it, letting it fly away, and his eyes follow it for just a moment—one tiny moment.

I grab my white phone—the antique behemoth I bought so that I could take this city by storm, one promising call from my agent after another—and bring it down onto his face with every ounce of strength I’ve willed into my body.

Every push up, every punch, every weight lifted and calorie counted comes down onto him. He jerks and cries out, and I strike him again. I keep going until Vladimir is still, his warm blood splattered over my burning, naked flesh. Then I stop.

I breathe.

I won.

“Angela.”I whirl around at the sound of Temperance’s voice, a snarl ripping from my chest.

He is standing behind me, looking down at the scene. His eyes trace the blood on my breasts, the phone still gripped in both hands, the pulpy mess that is Vladimir’s face.

Temperance gives a curt nod and holsters the pistol in his hands, his movements practiced and calm. He reaches out, offering me his hand. Both of mine still hold the phone. “You can put it down now,” he says, all calm confidence. It soothes me, and my fingers loosen enough to place the phone on the once-white carpet.

Temperance helps me up, and I stand on unsteady legs. “Go take a shower,” he says.

I do as he says, making the water so hot that it practically scalds me. I use my dry brush with such vigor that I’m sure my grandmother would be proud.She was always punishing herself.My hand stills as an unbridled clarity overcomes me.She hates herself for surviving.It’s not a new thought—not original—but Iunderstandit this time. Because there is a hate brewing inside of me…for me.

My hair in two braids, wearing sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, I open the bathroom door. The air feels cold compared to the steamy lair I’m leaving.

Temperance waits for me, Archie in his arms. The little dog is wet and shaking.He must have had blood on him.

He wriggles, trying to get to me. I reach out, tears welling in my vision as I wrap his soft body against my chest. He licks my jaw and snuggles his head under my chin with a soft sigh. “I’ll keep you safe,” I promise in a low whisper, talking half to him and half to the weak, sad part of me that is surrendering to self-hatred.

“You did good,” Temperance says, his voice deep with a hint of pride.

I bring my eyes to meet his tiger gaze. “How do you deal with…” I tilt my head toward the destroyed body, keeping my eyes locked on Temperance.

“I have a team on the way,” he says.

“No.” I shake my head, my thick, wet braids waving back and forth. “I mean, mentally. How do you not…hateyourself?”

“Put it in a box,” Temperance says, his voice even. “Lock the box. And don’t open it unless you need it.”

“Why would I ever need it?” I ask, letting the figure on the floor draw my attention.It’s horrible. Disgusting.

“Don’t worry about that until you do. But remember that one day you will need it. So don’t try to get rid of the box. Just keep it in a dark, safe place. Can you do that?”

I swallow and take a breath. “I think I can.”

“You can,” Temperance agrees. “You’ve got it, Angela. Whateveritis, you’ve got it in spades.”

He doesn’t touch me, but his voice is like a warm arm over my shoulder, comforting me…and welcoming me into a club. One I’m not sure I want a membership for. Temperance begins to move into my living room, and I follow. “What was the deal with the pen?” I ask.