Page 150 of Hymns of the Broken

I thrust deeper, harder, each stroke timed with my words. “I don’t care how long it’s been. I don’t care if it’s too soon. I know what this is. I know what I feel.”

I press my forehead to hers, never slowing, wanting her to feel every ounce of me—body and soul. “I’m already in love with you. And it scares the shit out of me because I’ve never had something this real. Never been this afraid of losing something… someone.”

She gasps my name, her hands tangled in my hair, and I lose it a little more—my hips snapping, rough, hungry,worshipful. “I’d fight the world for you, Sawyer. I’d fight myself. I love you. God, I love you.”

She breaks apart for me, right there, her moans muffled against my lips, her body squeezing me tight. I follow, thrusting through the aftershocks, pouring everything I am into her, every promise, every truth.

We collapse against the house, still tangled, breathless, shaking. I kiss her softly, again and again, holding her as close as I can.

“I meant every word,” I whisper against her lips. “You’re mine, Sawyer. Always.”

And this time, she believes me—because I made herfeelit.

Chapter 24

RIOT

I’m staring at a screen so long I’m seeing static behind my eyelids. Jace is scrolling through last night’s footage from the porch camera; Ash keeps skipping back and forth through a motion alert that turned out to be a possum. We’re crowding around Micah’s laptop, everyone on edge but trying not to show it.

“How is it possible we’ve got six cameras around this damn house and not a single one’s caught anything?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

Micah sighs, clicking between feeds. “Either our stalker’s a ghost, or someone keeps finding the blind spots.”

Jace grunts, annoyed. “Or it’s an inside job. Someone who knows how to avoid being seen.”

Ash snorts. “Like one of us is creeping around taking pictures? Don’t be stupid.”

Jace flicks him off, but nobody laughs. The tension’s too thick. I run my hands through my hair, glancing at the digital clock—still nothing.

“Could be tech, too,” Micah says, voice lower. “Signal jamming, camera loops, hacking—hell, they could swap out memory cards if they’re good enough.”

I hate that—hate how helpless it makes me feel. I keep picturing Sawyer’s face when she looked at those photos, the way she went pale and quiet and small. The kind of small that means she’s folding into herself to keep from falling apart.

I shove back from the table, restless. “Cameras aren’t catching shit, and none of you think it’s weird?”

Ash glances over, brow raised. “You think someone’s in the house, Riot?”

“No.” I chew my lip, shaking my head. “But I don’t like not having answers. Whoever this is—they’re smarter than we thought.”

Jace scrolls forward again, frame by frame, like he can force something to appear if he stares hard enough. “Yeah, well, next time they try, I’ll be waiting. Got a bat with their name on it.”

Micah leans back, eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ll catch them. They’re not as invisible as they think. Everybody slips up eventually.”

I want to believe him. But outside, the air feels fresh, electric. Like the universe just shifted when I wasn’t looking.

For a split second, I wonder where Jasper and Sawyer are. Something about the silence on the porch makes my skin crawl.

But I keep watching the footage, searching for a ghost in the static—hoping like hell the next time something happens, I’ll be ready.

I can’t sit still any longer. Not with all that static in my chest and the house so damn quiet, like everyone’s holding their breath. Jasper is nowhere to be found, which is no surprise, but I’m looking for Sawyer. I check the rooms one by one, pausing outside the master bathroom when I hear water sloshing and the faintest sigh.

I knock softly. “Sawyer?”

Her voice drifts through the cracked door, tired but not unfriendly. “It’s open.”

I step inside and there she is—curled up in Jasper’s giant tub, knees hugged to her chest, chin resting on the rim, hair wet and wild around her face. Steam curls in the air, blurring the sharp lines of the world outside.

I drop to the floor beside her, back against the warm tile. She lets her arm fall over the edge, and I catch it, thumb tracing little circles along her wrist, grounding both of us.