Page 118 of Kill for a Kiss

Her lips graze my throat. My words die there. My eyes roll back. “Please, Sterling…”

Fuck. I crush her to me, kissing her again. My hand twists in her hair. The other grips her hip, feeling every part of her against me. I want to give her everything. But right now, I can’t. I tear away from her with a sound that scrapes the back of my throat.

“Not here,” I say, forehead pressed to hers. “We’re not safe.”

She sways, dizzy with heat, pupils blown. “I don’t care—”

“I do.”

That stops her. She blinks up at me, breathing hard.

I brush a kiss to her forehead, tender and apologetic. “There’s one place left. My old hideout. No one knows about it,” I say. “It’s the first place I ever ran to, when I left it all behind.”

She nods. She trusts me. With a sigh of relief, I hold her hand. Then I reach down and pick up the card she dropped. Tuck it into my coat.

I wrap an arm around her and hold her close. “We’re leaving.”

There’s nothing else left to say while I pull her away from this place. But in that hideout we’re heading to—buried between the hills andforgotten by time—my past waits. My blunt blades. My old journals. And my first mask. A carved piece of wood, rough around the edges, dipped in red paint. A ghost from four years ago. But I’m willing to face it as long as Elle’s by my side.

***

The forest fades behind us, darkened by shadow.

I guide Elle through the brush, flashlight low and narrow, hand firm on hers. We move, steady and silent.

The beam hits a metallic midnight black, half-covered in leaves and mud. The Valkyrie.

Elle slows beside me. “So this is where your car was.”

“Can’t risk being caught,” I say.

I unlock it. Elle climbs in. I take the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life. As soon as we pull away from the cabin, the pressure starts to lift. My pulse has been hammering behind my ears. From this. From her. From Stan vanishing into the night with a man Clo controls. A man who didn’t raise a weapon when Stan stepped in. A man barely out of his teens, who I know Elle must have recognized.

Lix.Clo’s shadow. Clo’s new weapon. And now, somehow, Stan’s problem. I don’t know how to explain any of it, and Elle doesn’t ask. She watches the trees blur past her window like they can answer the questions she won’t voice.

I offered her the truth back at the cabin. More than once. She didn’t take it. Never seems to want to. That makes it worse somehow.

The Valkyrie’s tires crunch over brittle gravel, easing into the wooded path I’ve carved out in the past. In the corner of my eye, I see Elle leaning her head against the glass. Her fingers brush the edge of her coat. But she’s still wearing that damn watch Stan gave her.

I caught the tail end of their moment. Her and Stan at the ravine.They sat together, staring at the stars…Doesn’t matter. She’s here now. With me.

The Valkyrie eats the road as we drop toward the ridge. I take us off the path and down into the ravine, where the trees swallow everything. I don’t say a word. Neither does Elle. My hand’s still warm from holding hers. My pulse settles at the realization.

We turn onto the overgrown path, branches crowding above us. The road barely holds shape, marked only by my memory. Then we reach the hideout. The shack sits tucked under the ridge, behind stone and pines. Barely standing. Tin roof rusted through, boards sagging. Built like a last resort by a kid with nowhere to go.

I kill the engine. Elle sits up, eyes scanning with concern I don’t blame her for. This place isn’t a refuge. It’s a grave I kept trying to fortify.

“This is where I came,” I say, voice rough, “when I needed to disappear.”

She turns toward me. Her eyes are steady. “And now you brought me here.”

“It’s the only place left no one knows about.”

She opens the door, stepping where the dirt meets the sand. I lead her toward the warped porch steps, where the boards creak with every step. Inside, it smells like earth, rust, and memory.

“This is…” her voice trails off while her eyes sweep the small space.

“A shack,” I finish for her. “At best.”