Page 47 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Wild

K iera's in bed, her body curled around his. Fucking Blade Reznik.

Wraith.

The suspect I'm supposed to be investigating. The killer I've been hunting for months. And she's sleeping with him like ? —

The name hits me like a fist in the gut.

My heart slams against my ribs as I stand frozen in the doorway, staring at the two of them, sleeping together in a way she and I never have.

She's never trusted me enough for this—not to share a bed, not to sink into the vulnerability of sleep beside me. To trust me to hold her safe.

Twenty-three years as a federal agent, and I'm standing here watching my primary suspect sleep with the woman I'm obsessed with. The woman I should be protecting from him. The woman who clearly doesn't need my protection.

But with him? With Wraith? She's sleeping peacefully, looking angelic.

She looks peaceful. When was the last time I looked peaceful? When was the last time I slept without dreaming about her, about cases, about the line I've been walking between duty and obsession?

I grind my teeth, the muscles in my jaw working as fury ignites in my chest, spreading like wildfire.

Boo wriggles in my arms, his beady eyes watching as if he understands what I'm going through.

Fucking psychic ferret. I take comfort in his slight weight, and for a moment, it's like a tether to sanity — reminding me of what she and I have.

That I can give her safety, security. And for just a moment, I forget the furry fucker hates me. Apparently, he does too.

What do we have? What do she and I actually have? A few stolen moments, some incredible sex, and my complete and utter professional compromise. That's what we have.

In this moment, betrayal knots my gut.

Betrayal. Who's betraying whom here? She's sleeping with her husband—the man I thought was dead, the man I've been hunting as a serial killer. I'm the one who's been lying about everything.

Kiera stirs slightly. Her arm tightens around Wraith's chest, and he shifts, protective even in sleep.

The tenderness between them cuts me deeper than anything Wraith has ever done.

They've reconnected. They've found something I need with her to be whole.

But here I stand, the intruder, the outsider.

The federal agent who destroyed evidence to protect her. The fed who fell in love with the wife of his primary suspect. The agent who's been compromised so thoroughly he doesn't even know who he is anymore.

I want to rip her out of his arms and tear him apart. Or I could just put a bullet into him, and sort it out with Kiera later. She'd forgive me. He left her high and dry for years, while I watched over her. He doesn't deserve her.

Watched over her. Stalked her. Became obsessed with her. Destroyed my career for her. There's a difference, and I've been lying to myself about which one it is.

Instinctively, my hand slides to my holster, my fingers closing around the grip of my gun.

I take a step forward, the wood beneath me groaning.

Blade's eyes snap open. He moves quickly, shielding Kiera even as he pulls her further into him.

His hand coming up from under his pillow, gun in hand. Pointed at me.

Even half-asleep, he's protecting her. When did I stop being her protector and become her stalker? When did I cross that line?

"Agent Wilder," he growls, his voice a low warning.

Agent Wilder. He knows exactly who I am. What I am. A federal agent holding a gun on a civilian because I'm jealous. Because I can't stand seeing her trust someone else the way I've been begging her to trust me.

Kiera blinks awake, eyes wide as she sees the gun in my hand aimed directly at Blade's head.

"Don't," she breathes, sitting up fast, her body coming between us. "Wild, don't do this."

Don't do this. Don't become the thing I've spent twenty-three years fighting against. Don't let obsession turn me into a killer. Don't prove that everything I thought I stood for was a lie.

"Get out of my way," I snarl, my voice thick with rage. "You'll sleep with him, but not me? You'll let him?—"

You'll let him have what I want. What I've destroyed my career trying to earn. What I've compromised everything for and still can't have.

The words get caught in my throat. I can't finish. I don't need to.

"Stop." She commands icily. "It's not what you think," she says, calm but not cold. She's watching my eyes, fighting to calm the storm raging in me. "Blade isn't Wraith."

Did she really just use the 'it's not what you think' line on me?

Not what I think? I think I've been investigating her husband while falling in love with her.

I think I've been destroying evidence and compromising investigations for a woman who's been lying to me.

I think I've thrown away everything I am for someone who doesn't even trust me enough to sleep next to me.

"Bullshit! Don't use that tired line with me," I say, my voice simmering with rage, betrayal.

My grip tightens on the gun, and she flinches.

It stabs me in the gut that she sees me as the biggest threat.

But it's not enough to stop me. "I told you I'd have your back.

If he's still breathing, you're in danger, Heathen. I can't allow you to be put at risk."

I can't allow it. Even listening to myself I know I sound like a controlling psychopath. When did protecting her become about controlling her? When did my oath to serve and protect become about possessing and obsessing?

Blade's jaw clenches, his eyes locked on mine, daring me to pull the trigger. But then Kiera turns to him, her voice a razor's edge. Her patience with our pissing match, already at an end.

Our pissing match. Two men fighting over a woman like she's property instead of a person. Two men who both claim to love her, and both are pointing guns and making demands. How is this love? How is this protection?

And how the hell did Agent Wilder—the man who's built his career on following rules and serving justice—become the kind of man who holds his service weapon on a civilian because he's jealous?

This isn't who I am. This isn't who I was trained to be. But looking at them together, seeing the trust and intimacy I've been craving... maybe this is exactly who I've always been underneath the badge. Grandmother was right. Maybe the FBI was never where I belonged.

Maybe I've been playing federal agent when I was always meant to be something darker. Something that belongs in Kiera's world, not in the world of law and order.

And maybe it's time to stop pretending otherwise.