Page 129 of Double Down

When I try to hide behind remorse, he makes me pick one concrete thing I’ll do next. The edge of humiliation is the point. I take it because I deserve it—and because they’ve earned the right to demand better of me.

I don’t plead. I choose.

Every time I could run, I stay.

Every time I could grab for the finish, I accept the hold.

Somewhere in the long blur of restraint and heat, his touch shifts—not gentler, just surer, like a verdict he’s reached.

They trade off without speaking. Atticus counts me back from the cliff with numbers I can grip. Maverick’s palm finds the small of my back and steadies. Storm’s mouth brushes my temple—“with us,” he says, and my body listens. Conrad’s gaze takes my last half-truth and strips it until it can’t hide.

The safe word sits steady in my chest. My way to show trust and control. That steadiness is what gives me the strength not to use it.

They hold me on the wire until the song inside my skin changes key. When they finally let me fall, it doesn’t feel like losing control—it feels like throwing myself over and being caught.

Time thins until I feel the passing of every millisecond. There’s heat, and breath, and my name said like a vow. Then there’s only the quiet after, the kind that feels earned.

Atticus unties my wrists as if he’s disarming a bomb, fingertips checking for marks, murmuring something about circulation. Maverick brings water and holds the glass while I drink, tilting it when my hands shake. Storm wraps a throw around my shoulders and tucks it in with a fussiness that would get him mocked by anyone who hasn’t seen him in a dark alley.

Conrad sits on the edge of the bed and puts his hand over my heartbeat, pressing just enough to ground me to the room.

There are no speeches. No moralizing. Just the hush of a house that decided not to break.

His palm is steady, but the test still runs behind his eyes: stay or go, stay or go. When my pulse steadies beneath his hand, so does something in him.

No one speaks for a long time. It’s a good silence, an earned silence, the kind that makes me feel at peace.

Finally, Conrad leans down and kisses my forehead.

It feels like absolution, conditional but real. “Strike two,” he says again, softer. “Don’t ask me for a third.”

“I won’t,” I whisper, meaning every word.

“You won’t need to,” Maverick says, trying for light, landing on fierce. “We’re done with the tests.” He looks up at Con. “Right?”

Con looks at me, gaze troubled. “We’ll see.”

34

Phoenix

My phone vibratessteadily against the dresser with message after message.

Unknown

Miss me, angel?

God, Firebird. You have such pretty screams.

Next time I want to hear them in person.

You can’t be around them all the time, princess. I can get to you anywhere, anytime.

See you soon, kitten.

I won't stall this time. No excuses. Secrets only rot in the dark, and I’m done letting them fester. I won’t hurt them again. I can’t leave them vulnerable.

I shower fast, scrub away the sweat and salt on my skin, and admire the purple fingerprints on my ribs, my hips and the little lines that still haven’t completely disappeared on my wrists.