Page 93 of Promises in the Dark

“Come on,” I finally said through a cloud of smoke, the words more a command than a plea. “I can practically hear your thoughts from here.”

Red raised an eyebrow, her expression all innocent and shit. “What?” she asked, playing dumb like she didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.

I rolled my eyes, taking another drag of my cigarette as I prepared to lay down some truth bombs. “You think I messed up the vials,” I said, blowing out a plume of smoke.

She cocked her head to the side, getting all defensive. “I didn’t say that,” she protested, her eyes searching mine for any sign of deception.

I scoffed, flicking ash onto the floor like it was nothing. “Bullshit,” I replied, forcing the words out through clenched jaws. “You might as well have.”

Her face scrunched up like she just took a shot of battery acid. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, just a weak squeak that died in the air.

We stood there in silence, the only sound the crackle of my cigarette burning between us.

Well, fuck it. Might as well try to smooth things over, even if it felt like I was trying to dig myself out of a grave with a spoon.

“Want one?” I offered, holding out the pack towards her like it was some kind of peace offering.

She blinked, surprised, her eyes flicking between me and the cigarettes like she was debating whether to take it. That doubt—it pissed me off, but I kept my mouth shut.

Finally, with a sigh, she grabbed one. Her fingers shook just a little as she did.

“Thanks,” she said, her tone softening just a fraction.

I flicked the lighter, holding the flame steady as she leaned in, lips parting, tongue flicking out to wet them. Damn, she was close—too close—and the way her body seemed to hum with a raw, primal energy made it hard to think straight. Things were getting verynotPG-rated in my head.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

The way she sucked on that cancer stick, her lips wrapped around it like she knew how to handle more than just tobacco.

And those nails of hers, painted blood red—I could already feel them scratching my back, ripping into me as she rode me hard.

“It’s my fault,” Red murmured, her eyes downcast. “I should have checked the vial before injecting Viper.”

She caught me staring, and I swear, for a second, her eyes said she knew exactly what I was thinking.

I wouldn’t mind if she did.

I blinked, shoving aside any fantasies where Red was riding me like the world was about to end, because right now, that wasn’t the priority.

But I needed her to make those fantasies a reality, pronto.

“Don’t you dare blaming yourself,” I interjected, the smoke escaping my lips like a dragon breathing fire. “He was bleeding out, and we had to act fast.”

She shook her head, her eyes full of doubt and regret. “But even so,” she insisted, “I can’t shake the feeling that you didn’t mess up the vial. It’s just... I don’t know, Rogue. Something feels off.”

She wasn’t really talking about the damn vial, was she?

“Or someone,” she added, sucking on that cigarette like it owed her money.

Nah.

I understood exactly what she was getting at, and I felt my blood boil hotter than Satan’s ballsack in July.

That absolute cunt.

“How the hell did he pull that off?”

Red’s response was a shrug, her eyes distant as she recounted her theory. “I don’t know for sure,” she paused, her eyes narrowing as if reliving the nightmare. “But my guess is after I finished with Viper, he weakened his sutures somehow, so they eventually broke and caused bleeding.”

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