Page 113 of Picture Perfect

That assurance, meant to pacify, only tightens the coil of anger in my gut. "Are you fucking serious?" I snap, my voice rising despite my attempt to keep it even. My hand falls away from her throat as if burned by the fire within her.

I step back, putting distance between us, and start pacing. The confines of the room feel more constricting than ever, walls closing in, trapping me with my own spiraling thoughts. Chess is there, his presence a steady hum in the background, and I hear him move towards her as I make another pass across the carpet.

"Hey, Addy," he says gently, and I don't need to look to know he's offering her the comfort I'm too riled up to give. There's a soft rustle, the sound of fabric and flesh meeting in a tender embrace, and then silence as he crawls in beside her.

"Shh, it's okay," Chess murmurs, and I can picture him holding her, a lifeline in the chaos I've stirred up. I want to join them, to fold myself into that quiet moment, but the beast in me paces on, relentless, refusing to be tamed.

As I march back and forth like a soldier on guard, the sounds of Chess's soothing whispers and the shift of sheets are a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. He's got this way about him, Chess does, a calm that can soothe wild beasts. And tonight, he's all Snowflake's got, because I'm too far gone in my own head, circling the same dark thoughts that won't let me rest.

"Get some sleep," Chess says softly, and I know he's talking to both of us. But while she might find solace in his arms, sleep is a battlefield I'm not ready to step onto yet. Not until I've conquered the demons that are tearing at my insides, howling for a truth I'm scared to face.

So I pace, and I watch, and I wait—because nothing else matters but keeping her safe, even from the monsters lurking within me.

The tension finally breaks when Snowflake's breathing settles into the deep, even rhythm of sleep. I stop pacing and hover at the edge of the bed, watching her chest rise and fall beneath the moonlight that sneaks through the cracks in the curtains.

"Chess," I whisper, my voice rough like gravel after hours of turmoil. He stirs, eyes meeting mine in an unspoken dialogue we've perfected over time.

I tilt my head towards the window, careful not to disturb the peace we've managed to cobble together in the wreckage of the night.

"Give me a sec," he replies, as he carefully untangles himself from Snowflake and slips out of the bed, moving with the grace of someone who knows how to navigate the dark without making a sound. We retreat to the cool night air of the open window.

"Saint needs to know," Chess says, breaking the silence that wraps around us like a thick fog.

I nod, my jaw tight. "Yeah. This—whatever this is—he needs to know."

"Saint won't like it," Chess points out, his voice low but firm. "He hates messes, and this is one hell of a tangle."

"Doesn't matter if he likes it," I grind out, frustration simmering under my skin. "We need to speed up our plan."

"True," Chess concedes with a sigh. "But you know how he is. If we bring him in, he'll want control. Are you ready for that?"

"Doesn't matter what I'm ready for." My fists clench at my sides as I think of Snowflake, vulnerable and trapped in this house, her secrets cutting deeper than any knife ever could. "It's about keeping her safe. Keeping her away from whatever sick games they're playing with her. If that means...if that means marrying him then I'll have to be okay with that."

"Alright, mano. We'll do it your way. But we're going to need a plan, and we're going to need to be careful. One wrong move and we could make things worse for her."

"Then we won't make a wrong move," I say with a confidence I don't feel. "We'll update Saint, and we'll figure this out. Together."

"Okay. Together," Chess promises, his gaze steady in the darkness. "Just remember, Dre, we're walking on a razor's edge with this one."

"Let's just hope we don't bleed out before it's all said and done," I mutter, turning back to the room, to the bed where Snowflake lies sleeping, oblivious to the knights and knaves ready to wage war in her name.

Chapter fifty-one

Addy

The moon is just a sliver in the sky, casting a faint light through my window when Dre's silhouette darkens it. There's no shock in me, not even a flicker of surprise, as he shoves himself through with the grace of a storm—forceful and sudden.

"Jesus, Dre," I whisper, though my voice doesn't tremble like it might have once upon a time. The familiar thud of his boots on my floorboards is oddly comforting in its predictability.

He doesn't say a word. Instead, he storms across my room, a contained whirlwind dressed in black, muscles coiled tight beneath his clothes. His ice-blue eyes are focused, sharp, missing nothing as they flick over to the door. In one swift motion, he crouches and shoves a large wedge under it, jamming it firmly in place. I know without asking that it's meant to keep the world out, to keep us isolated in this little bubble where it's just Dre and me and the night.

"Is that really necessary?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at his back. I don't even know why I'm pushing. I'm more thankful for that little wedge than I have been anything else in...maybe ever.

"Oh it most definitely fucking is," he grunts, his voice low and edged with something dark that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Okay then." I draw my knees up to my chest, watching him. He's a hurricane given human form, and yet there's this odd sense of peace that settles over me when he's here, like I'm in the eye of the storm where everything is deceptively calm.

Dre's presence fills the room, a tangible force that crackles with his barely contained fury. He stands there, an imposing shadow, his chest heaving as if he's been running from demons only he can see. Mine it seems.

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