Page 99 of His To Erase

Ani

Idon’t remember much of the flight back. My mind was still trying to catch up to the fact that I was alive, and Frank was gone. That the war—at least this part of it—was over. I’ve replayed the last few days over and over in my mind so many times it’s probably unhealthy.

Steven’s lap wasn’t exactly comfortable because every time the plane jolted, my ribs lit up like someone had punched me again.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking unless his were on top of them, and even then, I could still feel the tremor, buried deep under my skin.

But, it was better than the cold leather seats, and I wasn’t moving.

Steven hadn’t let me go since he found me in that room. I don’t remember how long we stayed talking after he told me he loved me. It was long enough to realize we were suddenly alone and when we finally stepped out, everything looked the same, but it wasn’t.

One of the guys Steven came with brought in a doctor. Some mystery man in scrubs with a black bag like we were in some back-alley mafia clinic.

He didn’t say much, just started checking me over. I didn’t argue. Didn’t really have it in me.

Steven stood off to the side with his arms crossed, tracking every movement like he didn’t trust anyone to breathe near me, let alone touch me. Which honestly, not the worst energy to have in the room when you’re half-naked and bruised with a stranger stitching your face.

Nothing was broken—just bruises, cuts, and a lot of swelling. The doctor cleaned everything, bandaged me up, and walked out like I was already yesterday’s problem.

We found Sloane—Lauren—whatever—halfway to the front door with a torn duffel bag and mascara streaked halfway down her face. She was sobbing and throwing things into a pile.

The shouting started almost immediately.

Steven was cold and furious, acting like he was trying not to lose it, and she screamed right back, saying things I didn’t understand, and a few I did.

Things about Frank, about the lies, about Kody, and all the ways she tried to protect the people she loved and all the ways it backfired.

But in the end, Steven told her she was getting on the plane. And now— Here we are.

They’ve been talking the whole time, and I’ve only caught fragments of their conversation while I’ve been in and out of sleep. Just enough to thread together pieces of the story I didn’t know I was missing.

She didn’t meet Frank. Not really. He found her and raised her as his own, teaching her how to survive. But what he really did was—shape her into something useful, obedient, and dangerous.

She met Steven years later. He was seventeen—pissed off, and already halfway gone. Frank gave him a roof, a job, and a bed to crash in between bruises. Together, they figured it out from there. How to kill, how to lie, and how to hold on to each other when nobody else gave a shit.

When Steven asked her about the baby, she said it happened after a job.

She’d come back to the house exhausted, and wanted to forget everything, just for one night.

Steven was out on his own job, so he wasn’t home.

She’d been drinking when Frank showed up like he always did—uninvited, already drunk and already angry.

But by the time she realized what was happening, it was already over.

And a few weeks later… she found out she was pregnant.

When Frank found out, he locked her away, threatened her, and told her if she ever stepped out of line, she’d never see her son again. He’s five now. He loves dinosaurs. Eats chicken nuggets like it’s a food group, and refuses to brush his teeth without a fight.

She said she tried to run once. Frank showed her a photo of a body and told her it was Kody’s. She didn’t try again.

When the plane touches down, the night air feels heavier than it should—thick with all the shit we didn’t say.

Sloane walks toward a black car waiting near the curb, pulling the door open.

She pauses, looking at me, then glances at Steven.

“I’ll come by in a few days,” she says. “We’ve still got shit to deal with. ”

She nods to the driver. “Take me to the house.”

Steven just nods, watching her go. And then she’s gone—disappearing into the dark.

Without a word, he walks to our car, opening my door while I slide in, and he gets in behind me.

The second I lean into him, he pulls me straight onto his lap.

His arms wrap around me, and he buries his face in my neck, dragging in a slow breath.

There are so many things I want to say, but I have no idea where to start.

Thank you? I love you? I know the world’s on fire and I’m still bleeding, but if you so much as move your hand an inch lower, I swear I’m going to grind down on you and make everything a hell of a lot worse?

He’s hard—pressed up against me like it doesn’t matter that I’m still bruised and shaking. I know I shouldn’t want it. Not right now. But I do. I want him so badly it hurts in a different place.

We pull into his driveway just after midnight. The porch lights are already on and Bern explodes out the front door before the car even fully stops. Her paws skid across the gravel, and for a second, I forget how much pain I’m in—right up until my leg gives out as I step out of the car.

She launches herself at me, and I drop to my knees. My face disappears into her fur, and just like that, I forget how to breathe.

“Hey, girl,” I whisper, my voice already breaking. “You missed me, huh?”

I tried not to let myself think about her while I was gone. She’s freaking out like it’s just another day, and I didn’t go missing. Somehow, that’s what finally undoes me. “I missed you too,” I breathe into her neck. “So much.”

Steven doesn’t say a word. He just stands a few feet back, watching—like he knows I need this and he’s not going to take it from me.

I think I’m crying again. But honestly? I’m not sure I ever stopped.

He crouches in front of me—and that’s the moment I break wide open. It’s not the black in his gaze that wrecks me, it’s the way he looks at me that has me melting, and forgetting my name.

He slides his arms around me, picking me up, and stands. He carries me inside, Bern trailing behind us, and sets me gently on the couch like I might break if he moves too fast. Then he crouches in front of me again, hand dragging down his face as he exhales.

“So,” he says casually, “are we going to talk about the part where you committed arson, or the part where you almost married a mafia psychopath?”

My brain short-circuits and I laugh out loud. It escapes before I can stop it—this borderline hysterical noise that tumbles out of my ribcage. And of course, I cry harder.

“You’re such a dick.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. But I’m your dick.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite.” He leans in. “But someone told me I have a God complex, if that helps.”

And just like that, I forget how to breathe. I know he’s joking—but the truth’s wrapped in every word. This man would gut the universe if it meant putting me back together. And if I think about it, that’s what he’s done since we met.

“You scared the shit out of me, Ani.” His voice drops. “When I saw you in his house... when I realized he had you—” His jaw flexes like the memory physically hurts him to talk about. Then I see the rage flash through his eyes.

“I thought you were dead,” I whisper, cutting him off.

“I was.” He says it like it’s no big deal. Which is exactly why it is. “Until I saw you.”

I blink like that’ll stop the tears, but I’m sobbing all over again.

He grabs my hands. “From the second I saw you,” his eyes lock onto mine. “Even when I hated it. Even when I told myself you were just part of the job. You were the only thing I wanted that scared the shit out of me.”

I wipe at my face, still falling apart. “You really picked a mess, huh?”

“I’m not asking for easy.” His thumb drags over my knuckles. “I’m asking for real.”

And just like that—I lose what little composure I had left. It pours out of me in quiet waves, shaking through my shoulders as I let my head fall forward until it rests against his.

“I hate how much I love you,” I mutter.

“Too bad,” he says quietly. “Because I decided you were mine on the ladder.”

I laugh—but it’s wet and ungraceful. “I’m a disaster.”

He leans in, brushing his mouth against my jaw. “Still mine.”

Then he kisses me. Nothing in the world could stop my pussy from being turned on right now. His lips are on mine and when he finally pulls back, he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I meant what I said, we’re gonna have to talk about your communication skills.”

“Excuse me?”

“You disappeared without telling anyone where you were going. You burned down a building and you walked into a mafia wedding with no backup—”

“I did have backup,” I snap. “My rage and unresolved trauma came with me, thank you very much.”

That criminal grin tugs at his mouth—the same one that ruined me before I even knew his name.

“I’m serious, Ani. As much as I want to fuck you right now—I need to know you’re actually okay. We need to talk. With words.”

“Wow. Feelings and accountability?” I arch a brow, trying to hide the way my heart’s suddenly thudding. “You really are trying to wife me up.”

He gives a short laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands are still on me, like he’s bracing for whatever I might throw at him next.

I roll my eyes. “Relax. You’re doing great. Ten out of ten. Slightly traumatizing, but emotionally available, but you’re my toxic little dreamboat.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll put you over my knee before we get to the talking part.”

Don’t tempt me with a good time.

Okay, I know he’s right. We probably do need to talk. I sigh. “Okay. Fine. We’ll talk.”

I’m not ready to unravel just yet, so I tilt my head, keeping my tone light even though my pulse kicks up. “But I have one question first.”

His eyes narrow, but he nods once.