Page 91 of He Sees You

"That's what I told him," Juliette interjects. "There's nothing traditional about your relationship. Nothing proper or appropriate. So, why wait for the 'right' moment?"

I look at Celeste,reallylook at her.

Bruised from Jake's attack, bloodstained from our violence, standing in my cabin at three in the morning, discussing how to murder a detective.

She's never been more beautiful.

"You're right," I say, and drop to one knee.

"Oh my God," Juliette breathes. "You'reactuallydoing this now?"

"Celeste Sterling," I begin, holding up the ring. "You write about darkness and I create it. You imagine monsters and I am one. You dreamed of being consumed by something larger than yourself, and I dream of consuming you. This ring belonged to a woman who hurt me, who tried to break me, who died choking on her own greed. I want you to wear it as proof that beautiful things can be reclaimed, that darkness can be transformed into light, that two monsters can make something better than what created them. Will you marry me?"

She doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

I slide the ring onto her finger, and it fits perfectly.

Like it was waiting twenty years for the right hand.

"This is insane," Juliette says, but she's smiling. "Beautiful and insane and perfect."

Celeste admires the ring, then looks at me. "Your mother's ring on my finger. Your victims' blood on our hands. Your sister's blessing on our union. We're not exactly Hallmark material."

"No," I agree, standing and pulling her against me. "We're something better."

Juliette clears her throat. "As touching as this is, we still have the Morrison problem. He'll be here tomorrow with a warrant and backup. You need to disappear or deal with him tonight."

"Tonight," Celeste says. "We deal with him tonight."

"We?" I ask.

"We're engaged now. Your enemies are my enemies." She looks at Juliette. "Will you help?"

"I already am. I've arranged for one of the trafficking survivors to go public tomorrow afternoon. A tell-all interview with a major news outlet. Morrison's name features prominently. By tomorrow night, he'll be too busy defending himself to arrest anyone."

"That's not enough," I say. "He needs to be stopped permanently."

"Agreed." Juliette pulls out a small bottle from her bag. "Which is why I also brought this. Concentrated digitalis. Causes heart failure, mimics a natural heart attack in someone with Morrison's risk factors—overweight, high stress, family history of cardiac issues."

"You want us to poison him?"

"I want you to survive. Both of you." She hands me the bottle. "He's staying at the Marriott in Lake Placid. Room 412. Every morning at six, he gets coffee from the lobby before his run. Very predictable."

A car door slams outside.

We all freeze, then I move to the window.

Sheriff Sterling's SUV sits in my driveway, but he's not getting out.

Just sitting there, engine running, staring at my cabin.

"I'll handle this," I say, but Celeste stops me.

"No. We handle this together."

We walk out into the snow, Juliette following.

Sterling watches us approach, sees the ring on Celeste's finger catching the porch light.