Page 106 of The Devil's Thorn

Shemade me believe—for a second. Asingle,splintered second. That she poisoned me.

I shouldn’t be thinking about that now, but the image replays on a loop in the back of my mind, dragging a sliver of heat along the edge of my spine.

The curve of her mouth when she said it. The ice in her voice. The control in her eyes.

And for a moment—just one—I questioned it.

Not because I thought she would. But because shecould.

And that’s more dangerous than either option.

I watch her now. Curled against the far side of the couch. One arm draped over her stomach. Her long lashes casting faint shadows over flushed cheeks. Her chest rises slowly beneath the black silk of her dress.

A sleeping beauty.

Except I know better. There’s nothing innocent about her.

And maybe that’s the problem.

I down what’s left of my drink and cross the room, each step sinking into the thick rug beneath my shoes. I lower myself into the armchair across from her and lean back, exhaling slow as I light a cigarette, the flame catching with a soft flick.

The first drag cuts through the quiet. Smooth. Burning. Exactly what I need.

I stare at the open panel behind the wall—just slightly ajar. Just enough to catch the glint of gunmetal in the low light.

Rows of precision. Order. Firepower.

Things I understand. Things thatdon’tsurprise me. But her? She’s a different kind of weapon entirely.

I swirl the half-empty glass in my hand, the ice inside clinking softly, and my thoughts drift to her words.

“You underestimated me.”

She’s right. And I hate that.

But I also respect it.

The way she held her ground. The way she leaned in, let Alessio believe he had her when he didn’t. How she turned the same manipulation on me without flinching.

She doesn’t wait for permission. She takes. And that makes her just like me.

Which is exactly why I had to remind her who she’s playing with.

She played her little game at my table. So I returned it. A sleeping pill—mild, safe, subtle, just enough to pull her under. Just enough to show her that I don’t flinch either.

That I see. That Ialwayssee.

I grab my phone off the table beside me and lean back in the chair, thumb sliding over the screen until I find Nikolai’s name.

I hit call. He picks up on the second ring.

“You’re alive. Good.”

“Barely,” I mutter, letting the cigarette hang between my lips. “You won’t fucking believe the night I’ve had.”

“Try me.”

“She drugged me. Or pretended to.”