Page 104 of Intense

And I know a war is coming, but they didn’t expect us to have a force.

And they haven’t even seen half of our reach across the world yet.

“Then die for him,” I whisper.

And I step back.

Nyx obeys.

Her body coils. Her muscles flex. And his breath leaves his lungs in a silent, gurgled prayer to a god that isn’t listening.

Troy Barnes dies for the cause that will never remember his name.

And I leave the room with blood on my hands, a snake on my throat, and war pounding in my chest.

Chapter 36

STEPHANIE

Isomehow, by some miracle, managed to avoid Finn today. Or perhaps, he was doing the same to me. Things have been weird since I had his face between my legs and he walked out like it meant nothing. And damn it, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since.

And then he followed me home to make sure I was safe. For a few minutes, it felt like more than just a power play for a divorce. It felt comforting. It felt like I wasn’t fighting on my own anymore.

I’m now far too close to him, and with the weight of what I did still pressing down on my shoulders, I haven’t been remotely interested in killing again. Which is probably a good thing. So as I knock on Paulie’s office door at the club, it feels like shedding a skin. But I’m also dreading his wrath. Owners of places like this are known for their violent tendencies. And maybe, just maybe, I’ve got one last kill in me before I give it up for good.

"In!" he barks.

He doesn’t look pleased. His beady eyes roam up and down my body as I shut the door behind me. It’s not my night to work, but I had to get this done.

"Yes? What now?" he says, already irritated.

"Paulie, I need to take some time off. Maybe quite a while."

He scratches his stubble, narrowing his eyes.

"So you're quitting?"

I chew on my bottom lip. "Not exactly. I was hoping you might keep my spot open until I’m ready to come back."

His gaze lingers too long on my chest before he leans back in his chair with a grunt. "You think you're good enough to just hold a space open for?"

I step forward and plant my hands firmly on his desk. "Yes. And you know damn well I am. I bring in a fuck-ton of cash and never cause any drama. So yeah, I think I’ve earned the right to keep a spot."

What I don’t say is that I need a safety net. A cover. A way back in if the itch starts crawling again. If I need to find another target. If my life collapses, which it tends to do with brutal accuracy.

Paulie grins, exposing yellowed gums and a missing tooth. "You owe me."

I cross my arms. "Owe you how?"

"Work tonight and give me all of your takings. Make me more than five grand, and it’s a deal."

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. It’s a Thursday. The money’s never great. Five grand is steep. And I’m exhausted.

"Fine. Done."

We shake hands, and I instantly regret the contact. I want to dunk my arm in bleach.

As I walk toward the changing room, I pass the back door to the bar and freeze. A familiar Irish accent cuts through the air like a blade.