Page 52 of SINS & Riley (Dante & Riley #2)

RILEY

G un in my hand, I fire.

But the gun doesn’t go off.

The silence detonates louder than a bullet.

My eyes snap open—and freeze.

The man in the doorway looks so much like Dante my vision tunnels.

Same eyes.

Same mouth.

Same goddamn smile.

Something’s off. My vision blurs; I rub my eyes hard.

He guides me back to the bed, grinning as he plucks the gun from my trembling hands. Casual and effortless, he spins it on his finger like it’s nothing but a toy.

Then, he takes the phone, and presses it his ear. “You there?”

Am I… dreaming?

“Maybe you should’ve given her a heads-up I was on the other side of the door,” he says into the phone, more amused than annoyed.

I stare at him, studying every line of his face like he’s living proof every last cell in my brain just snapped.

His voice is too smooth, too easy—grating across my nerves like a coarse nail file. “She’s fine, but?—”

Then his eyes drop to my legs. To the blood.

“Um—yeah,” he drawls. “We’re definitely gonna need a doctor.”

A pause.

His gaze locks on me, and for one terrifying second, I swear Dante’s ghost is staring back.

“No, not for me,” he says. “Thank God the safety was on.”

My stomach drops.

I almost shot him.

I almost shot… Dante?

The world tilts sideways, heat draining out of me until there’s nothing left.

It all fades to warmth and darkness and…

Black.