Page 147 of Kill for a Kiss

I clutch at him, shaking, gasping for breath. “He promised me… He said he’d make Clo pay. But not like this.Not like this—” I choke out, my words strangled in a sob.

Sterling doesn’t speak. His heart hammers into my bones. He only holds me tighter.

I barely register Stan and Kaye rushing toward us through the smoke, their faces grim. Fingers pry me gently from Sterling’s hold. Kaye murmurs words low into my ear, and then I’m being carried into the back of a waiting car. The door slams, muffling the roar of the fire, sealing us away from the ruins.

I reach for Sterling on instinct, my hands scrabbling against the car window. But he’s still standing out there. A silent, still sentinel lit by ash and smoke.

Kaye pulls me into her arms, her dark hair falling around both of us. “Don’t give up hope, Elle,” she whispers. “More help’s on the way, you hear me? It’s not over. He could’vesurvived that fall.”

I don’t answer her. I can’t. All I can do is hold on to her, sobbing so harshly it tears my throat. Still, I hang onto her words like a lifeline.

The car slams into gear and jolts forward, tires screeching against the road. I curl tighter into Kaye, my whole body shaking. Somewhere behind us, Sterling will follow. I know he will. But in this excruciating moment, all I can do is hold on to my friend, and the fragile, flickering faith she places into my bleeding heart.

35

Sterling

I should be with her. Every part of me screams it, clawing under my skin, tearing at my ribs. She’s out there somewhere, broken and hurting, and I’m still here. Rooted to this rotting soil. This graveyard of everything I used to be.

I hate it. Hate the distance between us, even though I decided on it. But I can’t leave yet. I’m not done here until this place dies the way it deserves to.

The vineyard stretches out before me, rows of twisted vines and blackened trellises, the earth soaked in old blood. I move through them methodically, smashing lanterns at each base, oil spreading like veins through the dirt. When I strike the match, it flares against the dark. One by one, I light them. One by one, I let it catch.

The flames leap up the wood, fast and hungry. The heat slams into me. The shed behind burns too. None of it feels like justice or revenge. It just feels necessary.

When the fire climbs high enough to erase the stars, I finally turn away. Flames chase my shadow across the ruined ground. I walk along the cliffs, each step one more away from the past.

The Valkyrie waits near the rocks. I press a hand to the roof,grounding myself on the metal. The ocean howls below, salt and smoke thick in the air. Far down the shore, floodlights sweep across the rocks. A convoy of vans creeps along the edge, sleek and quiet. Damon’s work, no question.

They move toward the base of the cliffs as figures of shadow, efficient and fast. I squint through the smoke and distance. Two shapes lie broken against the stone. Clo and Lix. Even from here, I can see their misshapen limbs. The ocean laps without pulling them under. The waves reach the shore blue but retreat back red.

They should be dead. Maybe they are. But as I stand there, I catch a shallow lift of a chest. The twitch of fingers in the wet sand. I don’t know if it’s real. I don’t know if it’s hope or madness. But I believe it anyway. Because survival isn’t logical. It’s stubborn. It’s desperate. I know more than anyone how it can defy the odds. Especially when you let the right people in.

I slide into the Valkyrie, the engine rumbling to life under my hands. The seat sticks against my skin, salt and soot clinging to everything. I don’t care. I don’t look back. There’s nothing left for me here. In this haunted house that held my childhood nightmares.

It’s all in the past now. Burned down to nothing but smoldering ash.

There was never anything but Elle. She’s my present. My future.

So I drive toward her. Toward the only thing that ever mattered to me.

***

The drive back to the safe house drags torturously slow. Even with the Valkyrie snarling, every mile grinds against my bones.

When I finally pull up, Stan’s sports car sits crooked on the gravel, the driver’s door left hanging open like an afterthought.

It sets my teeth on edge. I stalk past and slam it shut. The metal groans. A little harder and I would’ve cracked the frame. It still wouldn’t have been enough to bleed off the rage.

The safe house is dark except for a few flickering lights. I walk up and step inside. And then I see her.

Elle. Running toward me barefoot, her hair tangled, eyes swollen with tears. The second she reaches me, I lose my breath. She collides with enough force to knock me back a step, arms tight around my ribs.

I catch her easily. One hand fists in her hair, the other pulls her closer to me. As close as I can have her in my arms.

Around us, I sense motion. Damon taking a step forward, Stan reaching out. But Kaye cuts them both off with a sharp command under her breath.

I murmur words against Elle’s temple—something useless and desperate—and she tightens her grip around me like she can feel the words without needing to understand them.