Page 98 of His To Erase

Ani

It shouldn’t hit this hard—but it does, because some pathetic part of me wanted to believe he’d only ever felt those things for me.

“I told you I’d always keep you safe. You were the only family I had left. And this is what you do?” His voice cracks.

She tilts her head, cool as ever. “Distractions get you killed.”

“You were my sister.”

The word hits so hard I almost miss it. Wait. Family? Sister?

My chest caves in, not from heartbreak but from sheer whiplash. My brain scrambles to reprocess everything that just happened. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched by the truth and somehow kissed at the same time.

He didn’t love her like that. He loved her like family.

Frank coughs, dragging in a breath like it hurts. But somehow, even half-conscious and wrecked, his voice still finds that smug, slithering edge. “You thought it was you?” He says it softly, but it lands exactly how he wanted it to. “Doll, she’s been his since long before you came along.”

My stomach hurts, and I would give anything to just sit down.

Steven takes a step toward me, dropping his voice into that low, sexy tone he uses—the kind that promises bloodshed and devotion in the same breath. It clearly also says I have no problem killing for you. And smile while I do it.

His eyes drag over me, and I see something shift behind his eyes.

“That all might be true,” he says, “but I came here for you, pretty girl.”

His hand grips my chin, and he rubs my jaw. “That hair suits you,” he says, eyes dragging down like he’s already imagined pulling it while I’m on my knees. “You look meaner and you finally stopped giving a fuck.”

I swear I could come from his voice alone.

“It fucking turns me on.” Steven mutters, so only I can hear him.

Then Frank pipes up, like he couldn’t let us have the moment.

“Cute.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re still just some pathetic little orphan girl with a pretty face and a trauma kink he could twist into obedience.”

It all happens too fast. He lunges without warning, driving his elbow into the nearest guard’s face with a sickening crunch.

I can hear the bone crack from here. The man staggers back, clutching his nose as blood pours between his fingers.

Frank yanks a gun from his waistband, and the shot rings out before I even register the movement.

Frank screams, collapsing to the floor as blood pours from his thigh.

“You should be asking yourself why he never told you the truth,” Frank grunts, spitting in our direction. “Why he let you walk into this blind.”

Steven stalks forward and drives a punch straight into Frank’s face. The sound of bones cracking fills the room.

His voice drops vibrating with restraint, then looks at me. “The only reason he isn’t dead right now is for you.”

Wait, me?

“The second you tell me you want him gone—he’s gone.” He says it like a vow.

Frank groans from the floor, fingers smeared with blood as he grips his thigh. But even now, he smirks through crimson teeth, like pain is just another game to him.

“Shut him up.”

One of the men moves instantly, like he’s been waiting all night to be unleashed.

The butt of his rifle slams into Frank’s temple with a sickening crack.

Frank drops with a grunt. The man crouches beside him and presses a gun to his skull.

He’s coughing up blood on the floor, trying to sit up, and I open my mouth to say something, but Frank apparently has a death wish.

“You’re no heir,” he spits. “You’re just a broken girl who got lucky.”

Steven lifts the gun again, pointing it right at his head. I see that tick in his jaw. His restraint is splintering, cracking straight down the middle.

“You want me to kill him, beautiful? I’ll do it. Right now. And I won’t flinch.” He tilts his head slightly, and I see heat flash in his eyes.

I don’t know what it says about me, but I’m so turned on right now. But I turn, locking eyes with Frank.

“You know something, Frank?” I take a step forward. My body’s screaming, and I think I might fall over, but I don’t care. “I might be broken—but at least I didn’t sell my soul just to sit at a table that still looks at you like the fucking help.”

He jerks, but the man behind him pushes the gun further into his head.

“You thought you could own me?” My voice comes out a little wrecked—but steady. “Twist me up, turn me into your little puppet?”

I laugh—actually laugh. Not so fun when the puppet cuts her own strings, huh? Maybe it’s madness or finally waking the hell up. But I could combust from how much rage is sitting in my chest.

“You thought you were building an empire.” I step closer. “But all you were doing was digging your own fucking grave.”

I take another step closer, enough to make my point, but not enough to be stupid. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steven move too—like his body’s already preparing to pounce if Frank moves.

“You’re nothing but a scared little man with a crown made of ashes. And besides, you made me this way, and I’ll be the one who burns your empire to the ground.”

His eyes narrow—but something shifts behind them. Fear.

“You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” I whisper. “Now you’ll die knowing I’ll never think of you again.”

My words hang in the air. Maybe I should feel guilty, but I don’t. Not after everything.

“What now?” I ask, looking at Steven.

He steps forward like he thinks I’ll bolt if he breathes wrong. But his eyes stay locked on mine.

“You’re all I give a fuck about.”

Another step.

“Say the word,” he murmurs, so only I can hear him. “I’ll end him before you even blink.”

The world fractures. Or maybe it stills. I can’t tell anymore. This man has been chasing vengeance for years from what it sounds like—dragging the ghost of his sister behind him—and still, he’s standing here waiting for me.

Behind us, Frank laughs. A soft, ugly sound that cuts through everything, making my skin crawl.

“You two deserve each other,” he spits, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “A killer and a whore in a dress. Romantic.”

Steven turns to him with the kind of patience that makes your skin crawl. But he still doesn’t shoot. He’s still giving me the choice—even now.

And then Frank shifts. That sick little smile stretches wider as he turns to Sloane, eyes gleaming.

“Do I need to remind you what’s at stake?”

Sloane flinches like he slapped her. The temperature in the room drops five degrees. What did he just say—

Frank’s smile turns serpentine. “Kill me and you’ll never find Kody.”

Steven’s voice turns lethal. “Lauren—who the fuck is Kody?”

She’s shaking, crying now. She lifts her hand—slowly—and the air around her crackles with a shift I can’t name. She turns the gun toward me before I register what’s happening. Her hand is trembling. And then—she shoots.

Frank screams as his knee explodes and he crumples backward onto the marble, howling.

“That was for Kody.” Her voice is cracked.

I didn’t see that coming.

Steven’s men rush forward. One of them moving for Sloaren—while the other keeps his gun trained on her.

“Don’t shoot!” Steven snaps, stepping in. His voice slices through the tension like a blade. He turns to her again, eyes wide.

“Who. Is. Kody?”

Slauren lowers the gun and whispers—“He’s my son.”

My heart stops. Literally. Like my brain can’t compute the words she just said.

She has a son? Sloane has a kid?

My stomach twists violently and Steven just stares at her like everything he knew about her is slipping through his fingers. He looks like he might actually vomit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d come for him,” she whispers. “Because I knew if you saw me, you’d try to fix it. And it’s too late, Steven. You can’t fix this.”

Frank groans. Obnoxiously. He’s laughing again even though he looks like he’s bleeding out.

“God, this is beautiful,” he slurs glaring at Steven. Then he says the one line that tilts the earth under my feet. “I should’ve killed the bitch and the kid when I had the chance.”

Steven looks at me and something in my chest caves because I know what he’s asking me with that look. That unreadable, aching look that says he’ll do whatever I want him to do. That this final decision isn’t his to make anymore—it’s mine. He’s holding the gun, but the trigger belongs to me.

He sees it written all over me—the way my lips part like I want to say something, but don’t. My eyes sting, not from tears, but from the heat rising behind them. That slow, sharp burn crawling up my throat, boiling into something darker.

I meet his eyes and nod, letting out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, and without a word, he turns to Frank, lifts the gun— And pulls the trigger.

The shot cracks like thunder—impossibly loud in the quiet room. I jump, even though I knew it was coming.

For a second, everything feels weightless. Frank’s body drops. Just like that—it’s over.

The silence that follows is too loud, and I don’t breathe. I just stand there, staring at what’s left of him. The blood fans out beneath his body like spilled ink across marble.

He’s gone.

My chest rises and falls like it’s waiting for the second act. The next horror. The next betrayal. I don’t know how to stop bracing for impact—like my body still thinks the worst is coming. I think I’m in shock. And I genuinely don’t know if I’m about to start sobbing or laughing.

Behind me, I hear Sloane. At first it’s quiet—not even a sob, then something inside her finally snaps. She runs out of the room, covering her face, while emotion pours out of her—like it’s been buried under her for years and finally clawed its way free.

I don’t move—I don’t even know which version of me is still breathing right now.

Steven looks at me like I’m the only goddamn thing tethering him to the floor. And something shifts behind his eyes, that lethal edge softens into something raw. I don’t know if it’s relief or regret, but whatever it is, it slices right through me.

I can’t breathe.

I think—I finally think I understand what it means to choose your monster. Mine just murdered a man for me and I don’t know if that makes me safer… or if it makes me his.

My hands are trembling and my heart is beating like it wants to run out of my chest and collapse on the floor beside me.

When his hands finally land on me, I lean into him.

Everything inside me is screaming, and he’s the only thing that’s ever been able to quiet it.

I’m tense and trembling beneath the surface but the second he pulls me in, I come undone.

My chest caves against his, and I bury my face in the sweat and blood and smoke. It hits all at once. The pain. The fear. The fucking grief. Like my body finally got the memo that it survived. And now it doesn’t know what to do with the pieces.

The first sob hits before I can stop it. Then another. And another. And suddenly I’m full-on falling apart and there’s no getting it back under control.

My fingers bunch in his shirt, like if I let go I’ll hit the floor. So I don’t. I hold on. I press my face into him and just—let it happen. No more pretending I’m fine. No more acting like this didn’t wreck me. I let it break me, right there in his arms.

His arms tighten around me like they were built to cage this kind of wreckage, and he holds me.

One of his hands slides into my hair while the other wraps tight around my waist, anchoring me. His mouth finds my ear, as he whispers the only three things I think I’ve ever really needed to hear.

“I’ve got you.”

“It’s over.”

“You’re safe.”

When I finally lift my head, his eyes are already on me. He’s looking at me like he’d burn the whole world down just to keep me breathing.

“You came,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

His hand brushes his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“There was never a world where I wouldn’t.”

And then—God help me—he smiles. That quiet, wrecked kind of smile that feels like it was built just for me.

“For the record?” he mutters, kissing the side of my head. “I know I was tied to a fucking chair, but I did say don’t go anywhere.” His arm tightens around me. “Didn’t think I’d wake up in a basement while you were out burning down a goddamn club.”

A stunned laugh tears out of my chest—half-choked, and just a little unhinged. “You’re such an asshole.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, his voice is low and maddeningly steady. “Yeah? Well, I love you too.”

My heart flatlines.

“Steven…”

“I love you, Ani.” He says it again—slower this time, like he wants me to hear every damn word.

His hands come up to cup my face, and my throat tightens like my body already knows what’s coming.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek. “And I’m yours. And the second we get out of here, we’re having a very long, very serious conversation about communication.”

Then he kisses me—hard. All fire and frustration and every ounce of fury and devotion that’s been building since the second we met. When he finally pulls back, his voice drops. “Starting with how you don’t disappear without telling me where the fuck you’re going. Ever again.”

I blink at him, still breathless. “Did you seriously just threaten me with a feelings conversation?”

“Absolutely.” He kisses me again. “You can cry, hit me, climb me—whatever you gotta do, but we’re not doing this halfway shit anymore.”

Anymore? So he’s been all in this whole time… and I’ve been the one holding back?

His thumb drags across my bottom lip like he’s memorizing the shape of it. “You and me, dear,” he says, and his voice is doing that growly thing again. “It’s murder-suicide do us part at this point.”

The words shouldn’t make my chest ache, my stomach flip or my pulse stutter. But they do. Because it’s him. This is the language we speak—chaos, violence, and devotion stitched together with blood and bruises.

My throat tightens. God, I hate how much I need him.

“That sounds a lot like a proposal,” I manage, even though my voice is barely there.

Steven grins—and it’s all teeth. I’m so fucked. I’m also so in love it hurts to look at him.

“Good,” he says, stepping closer until there’s no space left. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

His hands find my face again, steadying me. “You’re it for me,” he says, quieter now, but no less dangerous. “I don’t care what we have to burn. I’ll build a kingdom out of the ashes if that’s what it takes to keep you.”

And I believe him.