Page 74 of Desperate Crimes

Better than normal.

It feels right.

Like we’ve done this a million times.

Like we were made for this.

For each other.

Like fate—dark, twisted, obsessive fate—had a plan all along.

This plan.

And that’s exactly when reality crashes back in.

Because I’m not in my apartment.

I didn’t wake up in my bed.

I’m not safe in the way I used to think safety meant.

I’m in the home of a man who stole me.

Who watched me.

Planned this.

Built this place like a shiny trap just for me.

But God help me, I don’t want to run.

I want to stay right here. With him.

Chapter Nineteen-Nico Jr

Breakfast is done.

The dishes are stacked neatly in the sink, the scent of syrup and cinnamon still lingering in the air like a memory.

She laughs at something I say—soft and unguarded—and I swear it echoes through me louder than any gunshot I’ve ever heard.

She’s light. Untouched. Beautiful.

And mine.

Finally.

I move before she can shift away, crowding her where she stands beside the counter.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s time for dessert,” I growl.

She looks up at me, and those dark eyes catch the light like fire-kissed obsidian.

“You don’t eat dessert with breakfast,” she says, teasing me, trying to stay light.

I shake my head once, deliberate. I lift her—effortlessly.