Page 46 of Kill for a Kiss

With Stan, I feel warmth, comfort, and that familiar safety.

Withhim, I feel something else—sharp and restless. I feel pulled, as though there’s a magnet I can’t name, a gravity that doesn’t make sense.

I shouldn’t be drawn to a shadow, to someone I don’t know. But the way he stands there, silent and still, makes my breath catch like I’ve known that shape in the dark all my life.

Somewhere in the haze, I wonder which one is real, which one of them I belong to. There are words in my mind from a voice that sounds eerily like Clo’s, repeating the same phrase.Stay with… But withwho? Andwhy?

I should be a bit weary at the sight ofhimin front of me. A masked man visiting me at night, not minding that I see him in the shadows of my room.Though, the longer he stands there, the more I wonder… Am I trapped in a nightmare with him? Or is he here to wake me from it?

The weight in my chest is unbearable, a breath lodged in my throat. I should close my eyes. Perhaps I should pretend he isn’t there. But I can’t. Rather, I slowly, carefully sit up, my hands barely trembling in my lap. My pulse thunders against my ribs, a deep ache of something I can’t name. That pulsating pull tightens.

This time, he moves. But shadows don’t move, or shouldn’t move the way he gracefully does.

My voice barely breaks the silence, sounding fragile and uncertain. “Are you…real?”

11

Sterling

A while earlier

Big Sur, California. August 16. 0300 hours. Temperature around 64 degrees Fahrenheit. Humidity high but tolerable indoors. Visibility limited to one room. Entry points secure. Exit point locked. Personnel identified: two. Immediate threats: none.

Because it’s only Elle. And only me. In a dark corner of her bedroom, where she’s being kept. And…thisisworsethan I thought.

A week ago, watching Stanley with her, I thoughtthatwas torture. Standing back, doing nothing. But this… This is what real torture feels like. Because now I’m not just losing her. I’m watching her lose herself. And I’m standing here,fucking hesitating.

I’ve handled blood, betrayal, bodies. But nothing prepared me for this—watching the one person I’d burn the world for look me in the eye and not understand what’s happening to her.

Elle’s slipping.Beenslipping. Fuck, why did I wait? Why didn’t I just take her sooner? It wouldn’t have mattered if she saw me as a monster. As the goblin who haunts, who kills, who scares her. It wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t deserve her, if I hadn’t avengedher, or burned Clo’s poison from the inside out. None of it matters now, because Elle is too far gone. Clo got to her. Got in her head andstayedthere.

I’ve been watching her from the shadows all night, dread clawing its way up my spine. I’m too late. She’sgone. I’ve seen it in the way she carries herself like something weightless, like a marionette hollowed out and redressed in silk. She’s still her, but Kys is in her system.

I keep watching her, figuring out what the hell to do. But I’m a damn mercenary. I get orders, I execute—clean, efficient, brutal. But saving someone who doesn’t even know she needs saving? No one trained me for this. And even if I’m figuring it out the best I can, I have to swallow my pride and admit that I’m not good at this.

Because every time I see her, my chest cracks a little more. My hands shake. My thoughts scatter like ash. All I want to do is be with her. Touch her.Take her. But I don’t know how to do that without breaking her even more.

So I’ve been staying in the shadows for hours, stalling like a coward, wasting more fucking time because I’m goddamn heartbroken.

I should feel relief. Elle’s alive. She’shere.I should feel grateful that I can still reach for her. But all I feel is fucking grief. Imissedher. It’s pathetic how much. Every night without her gnawed at me. She lived in the periphery of every thought. Her voice echoed in my head, even in silence. She crawled into my dreams. And now, seeing her like this, she’smorethan I remembered.

Now, night’s fallen and all I’ve done is stare at her while she settles in bed, finally away from any other prying eyes.

Elle has looked so lost all night, but right now, she looks almost at ease, thinking she’s alone. Her hair falls in waves down her back. One thin strap of her nightgown’s slipped down. There’s a haze in her eyes. A drowsy kind of vulnerability that makes my pulse stutter. She looks like she’s been loved gently, worshipped slowly, and I… Iknow what that really means. She’s been claimed by someone who didn’tearnher.

I clench my jaw, hard enough that pain shoots up behind my eyes. She’s someone else’s. But I’ll remind her. I’ll remind her ofeverything.

She lifts her head slowly, her gaze landing on me. I’m not trying to hide, but even if I did, she always seems to find me. Even when I want to be swallowed by shadows, hiding in the dark, where I always belonged, shealwaysfinds me.

Her lips part slightly, breath catching before she speaks, sounding so uncertain. “Are you…real?”

I don’t answer yet. I just stare, moving closer.

Elle doesn’t move a muscle, but she studies me. Even now, drugged to the edge of herself, she looks at me like I’m someone she knows. Even when she’s gone, there’s something in her that reaches out.

I move forward again, just enough for the candlelight to hit the mask. Her breath hitches. But she still doesn’t look away.

So I crouch down, watching her the way I’d study violin strings right before pulling the bow, ready to feel the tension. She shouldn’t be awake. She shouldn’tseeme. But she does. Even with her mind smudged, part of her still sees me. And for one raw second, I think she recognizes me. I hope she does.