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The second Jackal started talking before the first was finished bleeding. Gave names. Locations. Schedules. Rambling whatever information he thought might save him. Craig nodded occasionally, like a professor satisfied with a correct answer. He barely glanced at the Jackal, making mental notes without saying a word. The power in the room shifted entirely around him. He wasn’t big or loud, but he owned it.

And me? I was barely breathing.

The smell of blood was thick in the air now, metallic and sharp, but I barely registered it. I could only see Craig’s strong, capable hands moving with calm authority. One of the Jackals whimpered, but Craig didn’t respond; he’d gotten what he was after.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, not looking at either man as he walked to the table and swapped out the scalpel for a pistol. “That’s all I needed.”

And before I could blink, he raised the gun and put a bullet clean through the first Jackal’s temple without ceremony or flourish. Just... over. The second one tried to scream, but it came out wet and gurgled. Craig turned, adjusted his grip, and fired again.

Silence.

There was no movement except for the blood slowly leaking across the concrete. Craig stood still for a second longer, just breathing. Then he peeled off the gloves, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number I’d seen him call a dozen times before.

“Phil,” he said. “We’ve got two at the warehouse. No rush, but bring the van.” A pause. “No, they’re done.” Another pause. “Yeah. The back entrance should still be clear.” He ended the call and looked at the gloves before folding them once and sliding them into his back pocket like they were just another part of his macabre uniform.

Then he looked at me.

The mask didn’t fall away all at once. It slipped slowly, just enough for the warmth in his eyes to return, tempered by that razor-thin edge of who he’d just been. The man and the monster were balancing.

“You alright?” he asked again, softer this time.

I nodded, but my voice didn’t work. My mouth was dry, my skin hot. I was hyper-aware of everything. Every drop of sweat trailing down my back, every slow inhale that tasted like iron, every inch of space between us that felt charged. Craig took a step toward me, and my breath caught. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then to my throat.

“You’re not afraid of me.” Not a question. Another one of those damn statements he always got right.

“No,” I whispered. “I’m not.” His hand lifted again, brushing my cheekbone, trailing heat down to the curve of my jaw.

“You should be,” he murmured. “Really, you should be afraid of all of us.” But there was no real warning in it—just truth.

“I’m not,” I said again, firmer this time. Craig’s smile was slow, crooked, just a little dangerous. And God help me, I wanted to taste it.

Craig stepped closer until I could feel his warmth, the solid heat of his body, and the subtle scent of sweat, steel, and blood that somehow didn’t repulse me. I knew that smell would stick to me if I let him touch me here. In this room. With two corpses cooling behind us.

“Victoria.” My name in his mouth wasn’t soft. “You need to get out of here.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You need to.” He was trying to be good. Better. Trying to do the right thing and draw that invisible line neither of us had crossed in a room like this before. But the part of me that had watched him work with rapt fascination, the part thatwantedhim, she stepped forward.

“I want to stay.”

He stared at me like he was trying to read between the lines. Then, very quietly, he said, “Not here. Later. When I’ve washed them off my skin.”

And somehow, that turned me on more.

The drive back was a blur. I couldn’t focus on the road or the dull hum of the tires against asphalt. My thoughts were too tangled in the memory of Craig’s hands, his voice, and the cold efficiency with which he’d delivered death. It felt like he could tear me apart with the same precision.

Whenever his fingers flexed on the steering wheel, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from making a sound. I could barely control the heat building between my legs. There was an urgent need to climb into his lap, crawl across the seat, and kiss him until I couldn’t breathe, think, or remember where he ended and I began.

When the car finally rolled into the driveway, I was a live wire, strung so tight I thought I might snap in half. Craig didn’t make me wait. He was already out of the car before I could even open the door, and I followed him, my feet barely touching the ground as he pulled me behind him toward the house.

Az was already at the door to the office when we entered, arms crossed, eyes narrowed expectantly. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but froze when he saw the way Craig was pulling me along behind him. Az stopped mid-sentence.

“I’ll debrief later,” Craig muttered, cutting him off before Az could finish his thought. “Tomorrow. I don’t care.” Az blinked, clearly annoyed but not willing to argue. He probably had a thousand questions, but it didn’t matter. Craig had spoken.

From somewhere inside the office, I heard Leighton’s loud and playful voice. “It’s not fair, you know. I take her out hunting, and you get to reap the benefits. What kind of deal is that?” I felt my cheeks flush, though I wasn’t sure why, maybe because the words made everything feel more real.

Craig didn’t respond; he just pulled me along with him, his fingers curling around mine as he led me upstairs to the bathroom. The soft thud of our boots on the stairs seemed deafening in the otherwise quiet house. My skin was still humming, my body aching in a way I didn’t want to ignore.