Page 30

We reach the stairs, and he ascends with measured steps. Each one creaks under the weight of our combined sins. Icling to him, my personal ferryman guiding me through the hellfire.

“Shower first,” Felix announces as he sets me down in the stark white bathroom. “Can’t have you covered in this shit.”

The water scorches the filth from my skin, but it’s his hands that really cleanse me. They’re firm yet tender, erasing the night’s evidence with practised movements. When he’s satisfied, he wraps me in a towel, his touch lingering a second too long.

“Here.” He hands me a set of his tracksuit pants and top, the fabric soft and smelling of him—cedar and blood. I slip them on, the clothes hanging loose on my frame.

“Get some rest,” he murmurs, tucking me into bed as if I’m something precious, not broken. I watch through half-lidded eyes as he leans in, his lips brushing mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. “Gotta deal with the mess downstairs. Then I’ll text for cleanup to come and pick him up in the morning.”

The darkness calls to him, and he answers without hesitation, leaving me cocooned in the safety he’s crafted.

I’m enveloped in silence, the kind that presses against your eardrums and fills the room. But below, I know Felix moves with purpose, his actions precise and methodical. The thought should terrify me, but it doesn’t.

The clink of metal and the rustle of plastic seeps through the open door. He’s cutting up the body, dismembering it, and packing it into bags.

He’s efficient, the sounds stopping sooner than I’d have imagined.

A chill shivers down my spine, not from fear but therealisation of how much power he wields and how easily he navigates this world of darkness.

Then, the house falls quiet again, save for the thud of his footsteps on the stairs. He’s coming back—to me. My chest tightens half in anticipation, half something else—something warm that coils in my belly.

The door creaks open, and there he is, his frame filling the doorway, his eyes finding mine in the dark. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. His presence says everything. He strides to the bathroom and showers again. Drying himself, he slides into bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight, completely naked while I’m encased in his clothes.

His arms wrap around me, a steel band of protection, and I melt against him. “You’re safe,” he rumbles against my hair, and I believe him.

“Thank you,” I breathe out, the words catching in my throat. Because despite the horror, blood, and violence, he’s given me this—a haven in his arms.

“Always, Aurora.” His lips press against my temple, a silent vow. “Now sleep. I’ve got you.”

Water slices around my body,a sharp contrast to the sluggish warmth of sleep. I slice through the pool’s surface, each lap an attempt to scrub clean the lingering darkness from last night. The chill bites at my muscles, but I push harder, relishing the burn.

“Morning,” Felix says, his voice echoing against thewater as he steps onto the patio, a plate in hand. His features are cast in the soft light of dawn, dark and unreadable.

“Hey,” I grunt out between breaths, pausing to tread water and glance at him. “What’s that?”

“Breakfast,” he replies, setting it on a poolside table. He watches me with those intense eyes like he can see right through the ripples I create. “I’ve got a job tonight. Won’t be back till late.”

“Another mess for you to clean up?” I can’t help but notice the acerbic twist in my words as I pull myself out of the pool, droplets cascading off my skin.

“Something like that.” A shadow passes over his face, so fleeting I almost miss it. “I could have Angel swing by and keep you company. Make sure you’re safe.”

“Safe,” I scoff, wrapping a towel around myself and ignoring the breakfast. “I spent all day alone yesterday, Felix. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Fine,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips, but I notice the tension in his jaw. Protective bastard. “Besides,” he continues, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I’ll be here during the day. Thought I’d read your first book.”

“Good luck finding it,” I retort, my guard up. “I don’t keep copies lying around.”

“Already found them.” He seems pleased with himself, and irritation flares within me. “Bought your whole book list after I met you. They’re in a box in the garage.”

“Stalker much?” I quip, but inside, my stomach twists. He’s going to read my words, my secrets. He owns a piece of me without even realising it.

“Only for the things I care about,” he replies, his tone low and dangerous. “So, which one should I start with?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I turn away, hiding the sudden heat in my cheeks. “They’re all lies, anyway.”

“Are they now?” He steps closer, the predator in him never quite at rest. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

He walks away, the weight of his attention leaving my skin prickling. I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of what he’ll find in those pages or what he’ll do with the knowledge. But one thing’s for sure—Felix Greyson is a man who gets what he wants. And right now, he wants to peel back the layers of Aurora Henry.