Page 10 of XOXO, Little Butterfly (The Storyteller’s Bodyguard #2)

Tristan

“What are you gonna do, Birdie?” I keep my eye on the road, heading to the station.

She purses her lips at the sky. The sun peeks over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. A new day or the beginning of the end? “We don’t have a choice. We have to talk to the police or we’ll look guilty.”

“Are you sure about this? We’re walking into dangerous territory. You’re not under arrest. You don’t have to go. Let them come to you. That will give you a chance to, at least, talk to your lawyer first. Besides, at home, I can be with you when they ask their questions but not at the station.”

“They want to question you, too, Tristan, and I bet there are more reporters blocking my driveway by now. It’s all about the optics. It’s best if we go willingly instead of being dragged out of the house in cuffs in front of them.”

“But what are we gonna tell the police? We need to get our stories straight.”

“There’s only one story to tell. We don’t know anything about the murders, and they can’t be connected. Saldana killed herself out of guilt. Gia was unexpectedly and tragically shot.”

“You serious? That’s what we’re gonna say?”

“Of course. What else?”

“The truth for once.”

She chuckles a humorless laugh. “The only truth you can count on is that I’m being tested. This whole scene, whatever leads left purposely to tie the two murders together, is nothing but a punishment, and the only way to make it stop is to pass the test and prove my loyalty.”

“You can’t let your stalker control your life like that. This is getting out of hand. We have to come clean and let the police handle it before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late, don’t you think? We passed the point of no return many chapters ago. You want to tell the police the truth, here’s one. Neither of us could have killed Gia or Saldana.”

“But how can we prove it? We don’t even know when Gia was killed to confirm an alibi.”

“Lucky for us, we can be each other’s alibi any time we wish because we have an immune security system with cameras to prove it.”

Is she asking me to manipulate the security footage to fake an alibi if I need to? Like the stalker did? There’s nothing Birdie Abel would stop at to prove her loyalty to him, to make him trust her enough to kill her husband for her.

But, in a way, she’s looking after me, too. I’m the one who bought the burner and faked Gia’s texts. I’m the one who burned the evidence in the box.

The realization sits heavy in my chest, a weight I can’t shake off. I’ve crossed lines I never thought I would, all for her. And, regardless of the risks, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Judging by your silence, I’m sure you’ve done the math by now,” she says. “Butterfly Man may not be testing only me.”

My fists clench around the steering wheel as the pieces fall into place. Unlike her, I’m the one who leaves the house alone and might need an alibi. She couldn’t have killed those women, but I could have. “He could be trying to eliminate me from your story by framing me for the murders.”

“Exactly. It’s his fail-safe backup plan. He knows I’ll always have your back, Tristan, even if, to do so, I must protect him, too.”

The words echo in my mind, stirring up feelings I’ve tried so hard to bury. I chance a glance at her, and the look in her eyes nearly undoes me. There’s fear there, yes, but also determination. And something else. Something that mirrors the ache in my own chest.

“Jesus Christ, Birdie. Don’t do this to me.” I shake my head in anger, stopping the car.

She turns to me, her eyes blazing with an intensity that both terrifies and captivates me. “Do what?”

“Say anything, do anything, to get what you want. You don’t have to do this with me because I’d do anything for you without asking for anything in return,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Lie, cheat, manipulate evidence, even kill. So don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, Tristan. I have no reason to. I mean every word.”

The car suddenly feels too small, too confining. Her scent, the heat radiating off her body, it’s intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

She leans in closer. “Butterfly Man won’t hurt me, not like that, and you know it, but he will hurt you. I’m looking after you .”

“Why?”

Her face softens, dropping the mask of strength and cruel indifference she hides behind, and a hint of a smile crosses her lips as she drops her gaze.

“Because we’re survivors, Tristan.” Then she stretches her hand and rests it palm up on the center console.

An invitation. A seal of fate. “We are meant to survive this, together. Almost like destiny. ”

“Birdie,” I start, eyes pinned to her anticipating palm, not sure what I’m going to say—I love you. I hate you. I wish I’d never met you. I’m destined to love no one but you—but needing to say something.

“I know, Tristan,” she says softly. “I know.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, shuddering, and lace my fingers into hers.

Her touch sends electricity coursing through my body.

In that moment, everything crystallizes.

The danger we’re in, the lines we’ve crossed, the feelings we can’t acknowledge—it all comes into sharp focus.

And it hits me with gut-wrenching certainty.

I’m in love with Birdie Abel as much as I’ve always been in love with Reagan Fletcher. It isn’t just dangerous or toxic—it’s a death sentence. And God help me, I’m ready to serve it.

I meet her gaze one last time, printing a kiss on her palm, before I start the car and drive.

We pull up to the police station about to walk into a lion’s den of our own making, with only our wits and our lies to protect us.

I kill the engine, but neither of us moves to get out.

In the silence, I can hear her breathing, rapid and heavy. Or maybe it’s my own.

“Last chance. It’s not too late to back down,” I say.

Her throat bobs with a gulp before she takes a deep breath. “It’s going to be o—”

The radio screeches with an unclear signal over static.

She frowns at it. “What is this?”

“Nothing.” I turn it off. “It must have picked a random frequency. We’re outside the police station. It’s not unusual for our radio to pick their comms.”

A line between her eyebrows deepens, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her brilliant, terrifying mind. “Can they do the same?”

I blink, following the direction she’s going with the question.

“You said earlier you and the team weren’t bugged, and you checked yourselves and the vehicles thoroughly. But what about the radio?”

“Our comms are secure and encrypted, Birdie.”

She points a thumb behind her at the station building. “So are theirs, but your radio picked them up.”

I nod pensively. “The only thing that could be breached without a trace... With the right equipment capable of picking up the specific frequency, someone could be eavesdropping.”

“Oh God. He heard you and Marcus were leaving the house and planned his move. You see? I’m not crazy, Tristan. Every word I said is true. Butter—”

I put my index finger on my lips and blink three times. I’ve turned the radio off, but we can’t be too careful. “Guess who has easy access to such equipment.”

Her head whips toward the building and then back in my direction. She slumps down in her seat. “No, Tristan. No way.”

“You still think it’s a good idea to walk in there?”