Page 65 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

STEPHANIE

H e knows.

I fucking know he does.

And right now, he believes I am the enemy here.

I might be the woman he thinks I am. The murderer. But that, I don’t think, is his issue.

After what he’s revealed. After what I’ve seen.

It’s the betrayal. He’s made it clear that he let me in, that he started breaking down his walls for me.

And now, he thinks I’m a monster.

This whole facade is to hide his hurt. He’s acting out. Trying to show me the worst version of himself.

Do I believe he would kill us both? Yes.

He’s dangerous.

He’s unhinged right now.

And he believes his wife is a traitor.

What do I do?

If I reveal everything, he might not even believe me. How do I make him believe that I was forced to frame him? When I have no evidence of who was behind the phone call.

Only a hunch it was that sleazy guy in the strip club.

I’m screwed whatever I decide.

“I can sit here for as long as you want, love. I have no plans. We can sit in silence and starve to death if you really want.”

I chew the inside of my mouth until I taste blood, my hands trembling despite my attempts to keep them still.

He’s going to hate me. He’s going to leave me.

“Finn, please, just stop this. I can’t even think properly like this.”

His eyes snap to mine, sharp as a blade.

“Think about what? How to fool me again? Figure out how to get rid of me for good this time?”

He stands, nostrils flaring, the tension in his jaw flexing as he unbinds my wrists, and I rub at them instinctively before tearing the ECG patches from my chest, then carefully unclipping the nipple clamps with a hiss.

“Finn.” My voice is low, wary.

“I always said you were a terrible actress. Fucking got me though, didn’t you?”

I push off the bed, my legs unsteady, but I plant myself in front of him. I’m not backing down. I’m not running scared.

“What are you talking about? This is real!” I shout, pointing between us.

He shakes his head slowly, eyes shadowed. Then he reaches into his waistband, and I gasp, stumbling back as the gleam of metal catches the light.

He doesn’t point it at me. He holds the gun out in his palm.

“Do you want me dead? Is that the next step of your plan, huh?”

I shake my head quickly, the fear curling hot and heavy in my stomach.

“What? No? Why would I do that?”

My voice is trembling, my eyes blurry from the tears I’m trying to keep from spilling. What have I done?

A dangerous laugh slips from his lips. He presses the barrel to his temple like it’s nothing.

“Will I still make it in your little book of murders if I shoot my own brains out?” His voice is quiet, almost gentle. That’s what makes it terrifying.

Psychotic.

I take a small step forward, hands outstretched. I can get through to him. I have to.

“Well, wife? Tell me? You clearly want me fucking dead. What happens to your plan if I do it myself?”

I blink, throat tightening.

“Or does your boss not care?” he adds.

“My boss? You’re my boss. Are you going crazy?”

He flicks off the safety.

“Stop!” The word rips from me in a sob.

“No. You stop fuckin’ lying to me. Tell me why.”

He slams his hand down on the metal tray beside us, the sound sharp enough to make my body jolt.

“You’ve got this all wrong, Finn.”

He steps in, and before I can react, his hand is around my throat, shoving me back against the wall. The gun digs into the soft skin beneath my jaw.

“That’s what traitors always say.” His whisper burns hot against my ear.

“I’m not. I swear. Finn. Listen to me.”

I push both hands against his chest, but he doesn’t move.

I force myself to look into his eyes. Pleading with him the only way I know how.

“I’m not scared of you,” I tell him. “You can show me your crazy, and I’ll show you mine. Shoot me. Do it. I’ve got nothing anyway. I’ll just be another statistic. And I’m sure you know how to hide a body.”

My eyes narrow, chin tipping up in defiance.

“I’m clearly fucking crazy for falling for a psycho like you.” I let the words drip with a sweet smile.

He grunts.

“Ditto.”

“You never fell for me, temptress. I was just a pawn in your game. Tell me why. You wanted my job that bad? Or have you been working with them this whole time?”

A laugh bursts from me.

“You really are full of yourself, Dr. Quinn. You seriously think I’d do all of this, for what? Get a job? Is that what you think of me? Why did you even want to stay married to someone as pathetic as that?”

His chest heaves. I can feel the shift—he’s listening. So I keep going. Keep prodding.

“I didn’t do it out of choice, Finn. I was blackmailed. Again, my hand was forced by a man. It was my life over yours. I couldn’t say no. So I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry some asshole is coming after you and dragged me into your orbit.”

He jabs the gun harder, forcing my chin up.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we’d gotten closer. I let you in.”

The words cut deep.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared.”

“Of me?” His brow furrows.

“No.”

I inhale deeply, the air shaking in my lungs.

“I was scared you’d leave me. And now I’m scared you’ll do that anyways. I assumed since you got away with it, you wouldn’t care. That it was done,” I quietly admit.

He pulls back, leaving me panting against the wall, my throat throbbing where his fingers were.

“You were wrong. Who blackmailed you?”

I twist my thumbs together, avoiding his gaze.

“There was a note left on my car. It was after that same guy you had a knife to, that wanted to speak to me. He had an accent not from around here. Then it was a phone call, a distorted voice. They gave me the warning and the details. Nothing else. But they knew about my first murder. They knew enough to ruin me.”

My stomach twists. Everything is collapsing, and it’s my fault.

I always knew I’d end up alone. I just didn’t think it would be this soon. And I didn’t expect my husband to be the one to kill me.

My ears ring as he watches me, silent, calculating.

“And they didn’t say who?”

I shake my head.

“All I had was that stupid bit of paper with a PR in a fancy font at the top.”

He stills, scratching at his jaw.

“You’re sure. PR?” he asks.

“Yes. I can read, psycho.”

He grunts under his breath. I’m getting agitated with this now too.

“And did they say exactly why it had to be me?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Nope. Nothing. And I haven’t heard anything from them since. I’m waiting for them to either kill me in my sleep or try to use me again.”

He blows out a long breath, his eyes diverting away from me. Reality must be setting in.

His eyes snap to mine.

“They won’t fucking touch you, Stephanie,” he grits out.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper.

His cold eyes snap back to mine.

“I’m not hurt. I’m disappointed you couldn’t confide in your husband. That I still wouldn’t have known. It’s only because of that stupid fucking nightmare that I even found this out. I could have protected you—and myself.”

I nod slowly, stepping closer to him.

“You know the truth about me now, Finn. You know who I am. I have nothing more to hide. I’m still not scared of you, though.”

His head tilts.

“You really are as crazy as me, aren’t you?” He grins, and my heart pounds.

“I think that might be the case.” I pause, thinking back to some of our previous interactions.

How, for years, he’s been making notes about me. Analyzing me. Yet, he missed all of this. This whole other side to me.

“Did you have any of this in your notepad about me?” I ask, rubbing my sore throat.

He shoves the gun back in its holster on his waistband, and I let out a slow breath. But then as his fingertip runs along my snake tattoo, tracing every line, my stomach flips.

I might be fucking crazy, but even after this stunt, my feelings towards him haven’t changed. I just want him to understand, not just what I’ve done, but who I am.

No one ever has, but he could. If he’d stop shutting himself off. Trying to prove he’s a monster, when really, he’s just staring right back at another one.

“No. I had no idea my wife was as bad as me,” he whispers.

“Now what?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“I guess you passed this room. I’ll be back shortly for your final trial. And this one, even I have no control over. There is nothing you can say or do. It’s either in you to pass or it’s not.”

I frown, taking in his words. What the hell does he mean?

“And what if I win?”

A small smile tugs on his lips.

“You’ll get a shot to prove your loyalty to me again. But winning shouldn’t be your concern. Think about what will happen to you if you lose.”

My mouth drops open and he releases me.

“Do we have to do this trial? Can’t we just talk?”

He shakes his head.

“Love, when you’ve lived the life that I have, you learn never to trust what someone says.

Even if that person owns your fuckin’ heart.

There is only one way for me to fully believe you.

To know you’re completely in. I believe you.

I do. But what I feel for you could cloud my judgment.

I can’t risk that, not when it comes to our enemies and protecting my blood. ”

I swallow the bile rising in my throat. The guilt is eating me alive. I blink back the tears.

“I don’t want to lose you, Finn. I’m not bothered about dying. About paying for my sins. I didn’t want this to happen.”

He lowers his gaze to the floor.

“Have you ever heard of The Preacher?” he asks.

“No? Is that what the PR stands for?”

He nods.

“I believe so, love. I believe so. And they’re exactly the kind of people we would both murder.”

So they’re abusers. Traffickers, perhaps?

“And they know who I am,” I whisper.

Finn sighs as he steps towards me.

“Our plan is to take them down. To stop the cult in their tracks. But it’s harder than we ever imagined. It’s going to take time, manpower, and a lot of skill.”

“I can help,” I cut in.

“If you’d have told me before this point, perhaps. Let’s see how the next trial goes.”

As he goes to leave, I grab his hand.

“If I fail the next room, can I ask one last thing of you?” I ask him.

He chews on his lip and nods.

“That you don’t let me free. Just fucking kill me. I can’t live my life running from some cult. I won’t have my job. I won’t have my husband. I’ve got nothing left but a death sentence. So if anyone gets to do it, it’s you.”

His face pales and he squeezes my hand.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that, yeah?” I can hear his pain.

This is killing him too.

He releases my hand and storms to the door, not even a glance back, and slams it shut behind him.

Leaving me standing here, tears streaming down my face as my heart cracks in two.

I’ve hurt the only man who made me feel. The only man I’ve ever loved.