Page 205 of Blackwood

I go with her, everything in me snapping loose as I bury myself deep and shatter so hard that I see the fucking stars. I stay there, forehead pressed to hers, both of us wrecked. Still moving. Still needing. Because even after all of that, I’m not fucking done.

I kiss her mouth, her cheek, her shoulder. I grip her hips and keep moving, slower now, grinding into her like I can rewrite every terrible thing that happened today. Like I can fuck the memory of that man’s hands off her skin. Like I can pull her back from the edge one thrust at a time.

Cade’s in the room. I know he is. I can feel his presence—tight, still, watching.

But right now? This is mine. She’s mine.

Her legs wrap tighter around me, like she knows. Like she needs this just as bad.

“Say it,” I whisper. “Say you’re mine, malyshka.”

“I’m yours, Lex,” she breathes, breaking again. “Always.”

“Now. Promise me you will never do anything that reckless ever again, not without me, baby.”

“I promise.”

Chapter 57

BELLA

Regional Competition – Manhattan, New York

702 Days Since Zeke’s Death

The dressing room smells like hairspray, body glitter, and straight-up ambition. It’s complete insanity backstage. Girls darting between lighted mirrors, lashes flying, spray bottles misting, topped off with Javi and Rico yelling at us all in a Spanish fury.

Rico’s on a rampage with the outfits, slinging custom garment bags like it’s fashion week and he’s behind schedule.

“Haley, teal. Ellie, pink. Bella, purple.”

Javi bursts in like a whirlwind of cologne and chaos, waving a clipboard above his head.“Legacy!” he calls, eyes already scanning for strays. “I’ve got the schedule.”

He stops in front of us, dramatic as always. “Alright, mis estrellas, listen up.” He points the clipboard at Haley first. “Legacy opens, which means mi fuego, you better burn that stage down. It’s your routine, Hales. No pressure, just perfection, ¿sí?”

Then he spins to Ellie, eyes gleaming. “And you, Miss Whitmore, your solo’s up against Maddie Rae. I want her crying into her rhinestones by the second eight-count, understood?” He clutches his chest dramatically. “Vamos, princesa, make me proud.”

He turns to me with a wicked grin. “Bella, you and Josh, ay Dios mío, my favorite duet, my little center-stage sinners. Don’t make me regret pairing you two. I want passion, drama, fuego y pecado, all of it.”

He claps his hands once, loud enough to rattle the mirrors. “And Trifecta, you close. Big finish. Smoke. Flames. Tears. Make the judges need therapy, ladies. This isn’t just Regionals, bebés. This is war in sequins.”

Ellie practically glows. Haley cracks her neck like she’s about to body-slam someone. Josh gives me a wink from across the room.

Javi claps his hands again, sharp and loud. “Alright, team. No pressure… but I want gold in every category. I want them begging for an encore. I want tears,real tears in the judges’ eyes.”

He leans in close, voice dropping low and lethal. “Don’t fuck this up.”

He spins on his heels and disappears through the curtains like a man walking into his own telenovela finale.

No pressure or anything.

Hair and makeup are working their magic around us, a well-oiled glam machine. I sit in front of the mirror, lips parted slightly as someone lines them in deep wine-red. I look like power and temptation stitched in silk and sequins.

But underneath it all, I’m fraying. These last few days have been a goddamn blur. Emotionally, physically, and to be honest… sexually.

Lex has literallyfucked me senseless on every surface of their apartment. Kitchen counter. Living room couch. Bathroom vanity. Pinned against the window with the entire city of New York watching.

Even up against Cade’s massive bookshelf like we were reenacting some dark, twisted version ofBeauty and the Beast—only this time, the Beast whispered in Russian and fucked like a god.