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“Anyway, I couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep with Topher’s mom.” His thumb on my jaw rubs my numb skin. “I snuck in a doctor to do an artificial insemination. Even though she pleaded with me to do it, I couldn’t. It wasn’t right. What was right was being kind to her while she was carrying our son. She asked for affection, and I’d done my best. Sat by her bed for hours so long as I didn’t raise my father’s suspicions. Made sure she got the food she craved. Keeping her happy was easy. Mainly because she didn’t know the only reason she stayed alive was because she was carrying a boy in her womb.”

“Why did it have to be a boy?”

At that, he frowns. “The women who carry daughters are murdered. Women aren’t part of our families.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure what to say to that. Of course it’s insane, wrong, and the most awful thing I’ve ever heard. I also wish he’d tell me more. That he’d trust me.

I want to be this monster’s person.

“She swore to me she wouldn’t come back. She lied. Couldn’t help herself.” No emotion registers on his face. I can tell there’s regret there, hiding. Lurking. “One month. One month and she was back.”

“For Topher?” Their son. James’s son with the other poor woman who I can’t stop envying. Fuck.

“Yes.” His chest expands. There it is. There’s the regret. “I spent the night in the campus library. Oliver and I pretended to study. We were finalizing the details of our plan when shearrived at my father’s home. Banged on the door. My father got it. He was the one who killed her. He waited for me to come back. Had a gun aimed at my head as soon as I stepped into the living room. I was younger. Faster and more prepared. I carried a gun tucked it in my jeans, always. He ended up shooting me in the chest. I blew his brains out.”

“How did you survive?” When he says it like this, while he’s staring at me so intently, it’s as if I’m watching a movie. I splay my hands over his chest, stopping the invisible bleeding.

“Bulletproof clothes.” He shrugs as if everyone has them.Right. “As I mentioned, I’d been prepared. After that, I texted Oliver that the plans had changed. He went after his father that night. His reasons for killing his dad were different than mine, though. It had nothing to do with Camden’s mom. She was already buried by the time we killed our fathers.”

The conversation about Oliver is for another day. There will be another day. For tonight, James is the one person I care about. Him and me.

“Your clothes are bulletproof? All of them?” My hands keep putting pressure on his chest. He grabs one, raises it close to his mouth, and squeezes. His lips brush over my knuckles, comforting me despite himself. “Do we have them on now?”

“Not now.” His gaze is strangely open. “I have a few sets in my closet. So do you.”

“Clothes? You mean more than just my panties?”

“Yes. You have a closet full of them. Like the pants you have on now. They were bought especially for you. All your clothes were.”

I have to kiss him. It’s stupid and reckless to fall for such a calculated, wicked killing machine. I’m an idiot for pulling myself up and pressing my lips to his, for letting him bite me until I yelp.

I shouldn’t be thankful that he’s alive.

I am.

“No one’s reported the other sacrifices missing?” I ask once he puts me back.

“No, for many reasons. The main one, I assume, would be to not mess with us. There are no refunds. And no one would threaten to expose us since it’d expose them too.”

Hope and wonder make me lightheaded. “So…Baylor is actually out there? You meant what you said about kidnapping her.”

He looks genuinely perplexed at the name. “Who?”

“Camden’s…” I won’t saysacrificeagain. Fuck this.

“Oh, her.” He’s careful without being gentle in the slightest, the way he’s handling me. Arranging me to straddle him on the chair. “Yes, I managed to save all the sacrifices.”

“Thank you.” I sling my arms around his neck. Hug him for everything I’m worth, pressing my cheek to his chest. “What’s next? Where is everyone? Oliver and the rest of them? Why aren’t you going to the office?”

“You ask a lot of questions, pet.”

“You know everything about me. It’s only fair.”

“I admire your persistence.” He reaches behind me for something in the drawer of his desk. “How you lie to yourself about us being equals.”

I can tell it’s a game. A serious one, though. James is taking this—takingme—very seriously.

He’s relieved to reveal this side of himself.