Page 71 of Undone

I wasn’t fine, not even close, but I couldn’t fall apart.

“This is more than taunting. He’s trying to break her,” Dorian said.

I turned to him, my throat tight. He wasn’t wrong. John wasn’t playing games anymore. He was pushing me closer to the edge with every murder, every clue left behind.

I still couldn’t understand my role in all of this. After years of taking lives without hesitation, why has he suddenly shifted his focus to me? What was it about me that had him making this personal now, when it never had been before?

My hands were shaking. “Thanks, Colt,” I managed.

“Please be careful,” Colt warned.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Dorian cut him off. His hand slipped from my waist, but the heat of his touch lingered.

“Get some rest,” Colt said, softer now. He gave a small dip of his head before walking to the door. “Goodnight,” he called out before stepping outside.

I paced back and forth, the floor creaking under each step, before I ended up in the kitchen, my heart hammering in my ears.

Dorian followed me, pulling me into his arms. “I got you.” His words washed over me, and I leaned into him, letting him carry the burden for just a second.

This was my fight, even if I didn’t want it to be, but leaning on Dorian, letting him see how this affected me, made it a little more bearable.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly. “I know you think you do, but you don’t.”

“I want to believe that… But I don’t know how to trust anyone,” I admitted. “How could I after everything?”

I could see the impact of my words hit him for a moment before he regained his composure.

“You don’t have to trust me. You can be wary all you want, but I will be here proving you wrong every step of the way,” he said.

“You don’t understand,” I said, taking a step back, my hands clenched at my sides. The heat in my chest spread to my face.

“You’re right, I don’t understand. I will never understand what it’s like for you, what you’ve gone through, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you.”

“And do what? What is this?” I motioned between us. “We have both made it abundantly clear that we can’t jump into something. So what? What are we? Fuck buddies? Only there for each other when one of us is falling apart?” My voice wavered.

Casual was what we agreed on, but it felt like we were brushing aside something deeper. We both knew it was more, but neither of us was willing to admit anything more.

In one effortless motion, he lifted me, gently setting me on the counter.

“You want a fuck buddy? You got it, peach, but I’m also your friend. I’m always here for you. The good, the bad, all of it.”

Without thinking, I leaned in, my lips finding his. He seemed surprised at first, taking a beat before responding. When he did, it was slow and tender. He tasted like tequila and mint.

I wanted to stay lost in his kisses forever, to be drunk on him, consumed by the feeling of his mouth on mine.

His lips brushed mine again, gentle and patient, like he was asking for permission. I parted mine slightly in response, feeling the press of his tongue against my lips. It wasn’t forceful, just an invitation, and I met it.

Gods, I knew he’d be a good kisser.

He had that sexy, broody, nerdy thing going on, but even his kisses were devastating, as if he could fix even the most broken parts of me.

I had never been kissed like this—so intense, so all-consuming. It was as if every answer to every question was somehow contained in this moment, in the way his lips moved against mine.

It wasn’t urgent or desperate. It was perfect. His kiss was a quiet reassurance, not the fiery, reckless kind, but the kind that made you feel safe, even in the midst of uncertainty.

I hadn’t expected it to feel this way—calm, yet somehow still full of everything I hadn’t known I needed. He moved back, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s go back to watching the show,” he said, nodding toward the couch, though I could still feel the heat of his lips on mine.

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