Page 265 of Quinlan

I crave that for myself so badly that my chest caves in on itself.

And just in case the unimaginable happens, that she tells me she can’t stand here and allow for this to happen, I would—

“Damien.”

Would I really ignore her, or would I drop it? Leave the job to the professionals so Quinlan could still be mine after tonight?

Nothing could be more wrong than walking away from this.

Nothing could be worse than losing her.

Quinlan doesn’t call my name again. What would I fucking tell her, anyway?

Please be okay with what I’m about to do? Please do it with me?

You can’t force that on a person.

My feet carry me a step back. My gaze is locked on hers. The same magnetic pull I’ve had toward her for years is still there. Twenty-three of them, to be exact. She saved me.

She’s been my everything.

I have to kill Rex. Have to slaughter him. Use my bare goddamn hands.

I need to do it.

Neither Rome nor Liam say anything either. They’re statues, only their gazes following Quinlan. Mine do the same.

She’s walking, and I watch her.

I’m bloodthirsty. Straining to finish this story once and for all.

And I. Watch. Her.

I’m curious. Damaged. Hopeful. So goddamn hopeful.

Quietly, she heads to the table and stops there. Her tattoo shines in the fluorescent light, the skin beneath it swollen and purple.

Her chest heaves with each breath. Her arm moves. Hand covering the handle of the knife I put there for her.

There are four knives in the warehouse, just like there are numerous gas containers.

Quinlan doesn’t grab one knife, though. She takes two of them, walking over to me. Her face gives me nothing.

Rome steps aside when she’s close. She slams the knife to my chest. Scowls at me. Lets me watch the anger bleeding from her pores.

Christ, I love her.

No matter what she says next, I love that flare of rage. Her scrunching nose. Those swollen, pressed lips.

This is the answer I’ve been too nervous to ask.

I clasp my hand on top of hers, pin hers closer to my chest. Give her a taste of what she does to me. How alive I am because of her.

“The bitch was already dead.” Aria, she means. “Liam needed to let it go. That’s why I stopped him from pouring gas before I saw he was okay. She didn’t deserve it, fucking with his head.”

“She’s right.” Liam’s solemn. Concise. Relieved.

“This isn’t the case with us, Damien.” The last of her restraint starts to snap. She growls, pressing her chest to mine, the knives mashed between us. “You owe me to kill him. You fucking promised.”

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