Page 20 of Grave Intentions

He leans closer. “I won’t let that happen to you. I’ve been saving up and planning my escape. And when I’m ready, I’m taking you with me. We’ll leave this shithole behind and never look back.”

His hand finds mine, his calloused fingers intertwining with my own. “But until then, we have to be smart. We have to play their game, even if it kills us inside. Because the alternative...” He trails off with a haunted look. “Trust me, Lena. You don’t want to know what they’ll do if they think you’re trying to cross them.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. Through the windshield, I watch a couple exit the theater, holding hands and laughing. They look carefree and normal. Everything we’re not.

“How much have you saved?” I ask.

“I’ve only got fifteen hundred saved so far. There should be thousands by now, but...” He shakes his head. “Whenever I get close, Mr. Wilson finds a reason to take more. Broken window, damaged furniture, missing food.”

“But you didn’t?—”

“It doesn’t matter if I did or didn’t. His house, his rules.” Talon’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “And he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

I gently place my hand on Talon’s thigh, wanting to comfort and show him he’s not alone. The gesture feels natural, right—like my hand belongs there.

His entire body goes rigid. The muscles beneath my palm tense, hard as steel. His jaw clenches, the sharp line of it more pronounced in the dim light. His knuckles whiten further on the steering wheel, and I hear the leather creak under his grip.

My breath catches as I notice the growing bulge in his jeans right beside my hand. Heat floods my cheeks, but I can’t look away. The air in the car becomes thick, charged with electricity.

“Lena,” he says, his voice rough and strained. “Move your hand.”

I should listen. Should pull away. But something keeps my hand in place, my fingers curling slightly into the denim of his jeans.

“Why?” I whisper.

His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “Because if you don’t, I might do something we’ll both regret.”

The haunting tone of his voice awakens something deep inside me that I’ve tried to ignore.

“What if I don’t regret it?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Talon’s head snaps toward me, his blue eyes blazing. The streetlight catches his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.

My hand trembles on his thigh, but I don’t move it. “I turned seventeen last month.”

“You’re still too young.” Talon’s voice comes out strained, his muscles taut beneath my touch.

“The age of consent in Massachusetts is sixteen.” Heat floods my cheeks at my boldness, but I press on. “I looked it up.”

His head turns sharply toward me, those piercing blue eyes searching my face. “You looked it up?”

“Yes.” My heart pounds so hard I wonder if he can hear it. “I wanted to know... for us.”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice dropping lower. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Haven’t you?”

The silence stretches between us, charged with years of unspoken desire. His hand covers mine on his thigh but doesn’t push it away.

“Every day for longer than you know,” he admits roughly. “That’s why I’ve been distant. I couldn’t trust myself around you.”

My breath catches at his confession. All this time, I thought he was being distant because he didn’t care.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I whisper.

“No. You’re not.” Talon’s hand tightens over mine, but then he gently lifts it off his thigh. The loss of contact leaves me cold.

“We can’t,” he says, his voice rough. “Not yet.”