Page 65 of Don't You Pucking Dare

"I’m so tired," she says. She sinks onto the bed like her strings have been cut.

"Go to sleep, Duchess." I pull back the covers. "You're safe here."

She curls into herself, small and vulnerable in ways that make my hands itch to destroy anyone who'd hurt her. My phone vibrates again—Jackson's name lighting up the screen for the dozenth time. But right now, Lola's steady breathing takes priority.

Once she's asleep, I find the guys in the second living room, discussing cleanup like we're talking about a spilled drink instead of multiple bodies.

"How’s the Duchess?" Noah asks.

"Finally sleeping." I grip the back of a chair, knuckles white. "So… what now?"

"Nico's handling the fallout. Negotiating. We wait it out, and we'll be home soon like nothing happened."

My mind races with all that happened last night. The Reapers answer to whatever fucking joint Nico is running, and that’s clear as day now. We’re just the middleman, handling some parts of the business for him. I grip the chair tighter and glance at Noah. He’s probably the most dangerous guy I know. His connections run deep. I was aware of this before, but now I truly know not to get on his bad side.

Jackson's call cuts through our discussion. I glance at my phone at my brother’s image. I nod at the guys as I take the call and walk into the other room.

"Where are you?" His voice carries tension.

I walk through the hall. "Safe house. Waiting it out."

"You good?" he asks, concerned.

I head back toward Lola's room, needing to check on her. "Yeah. You?"

"More relieved than you know." His exhale carries years of weight.

"Rick Kemper said something last night." I peep into the room and watch Lola's chest rise and fall. I close the door. "What aren't you telling me?"

The silence stretches between us, and I question if the call dropped.

"My girlfriend." Two words that explain everything. Why he’s in the wheelchair. Why Rick Kemper said that my brother took something from him. He’s talking about a money asset. A girl. "It's over," Jackson says, sighing with relief.

"Yeah," I say, but my head is still fuzzy with what I did to Lola to get to this point. No, it needed to get done.

Jackson asks, "Got your red mask?"

"I will, yeah."

"Be careful, brother." His voice carries a warning. "Some masks are harder to take off than others."

I open the door again and watch Lola sleep, wondering if I just became a different kind of monster, but still a monster nonetheless.

Back in the living room, the guys are still playing cleanup crew. My mind's stuck on one detail we can't control.

"Lola's mom?" I catch Noah's eye. "Any word?"

He shakes his head, and my stomach turns. One more way I might fail her.

Caleb drones on about the operation, dissecting every moment like we're reviewing game tape instead of discussing murder. I tune him out, typing message after message to our contacts, searching for any trace of Lola's mother. The woman's a ghost—just like her daughter was supposed to become.

The kitchen staff—because of course Noah's family keeps a full staff even in their emergency bolt-hole—brings dinner. I carry a plate to Lola, steam rising from food she probably won't eat. She's tangled in expensive sheets, dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.

"Duchess." My fingers brush her shoulder. She mumbles something, turning away from my touch. Even in sleep, she knows to reject me. I try again, gentler this time, but she burrows deeper into the blankets.

The shower does nothing to wash away the day's memories. Water can't clean the blood from my conscience. I slip into bed beside her, keeping my distance from her sleeping form. The ceiling becomes a movie screen playing tonight's greatest hits—Lola bound to that chair, her body responding to pain and the pleasure I got from inflicting it. My dick reacts to the thought of her bound and helpless. The things I would fucking do to her.

The moonlight catches the waves in her hair, turning each strand to silk. My hands remember how it felt wrapped around my fist in her dorm room when I fucked her mouth for being foul. How she yielded to me before she knew what I was capable of.

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