Page 30 of Sadistic

"We'll stop them."

"How?"

I smile, sharp as a blade. "By being worse than anything they can imagine."

She studies me for a long moment. "I need to speak with you. Privately. Now."

Another eruption from the room, but I'm already moving. "Lead the way."

She heads for the back door, past the kitchen, out to the yard out back.

The door closes, and she rounds on me. "Surveillance? Really?"

"You knew?—"

"I’m fucking furious. I knew you were watching, Doran. It’s like I can feel your eyes on me, but I didn't know you had every detail of my life cataloged like some fucking nature documentary." She's pacing now, energy crackling. "Thirty-six minutes? You timed it?"

"I time everything about you."

"That's not normal!"

"Neither is marrying for an alliance." I catch her arm, stop her pacing. "But here we are."

"Here we are," she repeats bitterly. "With you knowing every detail of my goodbye fuck while I know nothing about you except you're obsessed enough to stalk me for five years."

"You want to know me?" I back her against the wall. "Ask."

"Why me? Dalla's older?—"

"By twelve minutes."

"You know that too?"

"I knoweverything." I cage her with my arms, not touching but close enough to feel her heat. "I know you broke your arm at seven trying to climb the oak tree behind your house. I know you're allergic to strawberries but eat them anyway as long as you have your epi-pen. I know you write poetry when you can't sleep and burn it in the morning."

Her breath catches. "How?—"

"Because you're mine. Have been since the moment I saw you." I lean closer. "Fifteen years old, telling your father to go fuck himself in front of a room full of killers. Do you remember it?"

"I... yes."

"You wore a red sundress. Had a bruise on your knee from skateboarding. Your hair was longer then, past your waist." I touch a strand that now barely reaches her shoulders. "You cut it the day you turned eighteen. Rebellious little mc princess."

"Stop."

"You want to know me? This is me. Every detail of you cataloged, yes. Every man who got too close was removed. Every threat assessed and handled." I pull back enough to see her face. "I'm not a good man, Revna. I'm not kind or gentle or whatever the fuck Njal pretended to be. But I'm yours as much as you're mine."

She's quiet for a long moment. "Two prospects are dead."

The subject change doesn't surprise me.

She needs time to process.

"Yes, they are."

"I knew them. They’d steal cookies from my mom's kitchen. One was twenty-two, and the other twenty-four, both of them just became prospects five months ago." Her voice cracks slightly. "Dead because of some territorial pissing match."

"Dead because your father's too proud to admit he needs help."