Page 157 of Wilde and Deadly

She exhaled shakily and drew back, searching his gaze. “I told you I didn’t. I told you a normal, white picket fence life is not for me. You said you didn’t care. You said?—”

He stopped her with another short, hard kiss. “I know what I said. And I meant it. If I have to fight through hell, I’d rather do it with you. I want you by my side. Always. Forever. Through sickness and health and megalomaniacs.”

Rowan gave him a tired smirk, resting her head against his chest. “I love you.”

He let out a slow breath, his hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair as he held her close. “I love you too, Hellcat. More than you’ll ever know.”

She tipped her head back to look at him, something softer flickering in her bruised eyes. “Even if I drive you insane?”

His lips brushed against her temple. “Especially because you drive me insane.”

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh, her grip tightening on his jacket. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

“Exactly where I want to be.” He leaned in to kiss her again, but the elevator dinged, and he reluctantly released her as the doors slid open. They stepped out into the opulent lobby, and he was hyper-aware of the eyes on them. The black-clad soldiers hadn’t moved, including the one that had set off his warning bells on the way up.

Rowan leaned into his side and whispered, “Stirling called that guy Revenant One. He led the ambush in the tunnel, and he’s ice cold.” She hesitated, then added, “He took Weston down without blinking like it was nothing—almost like he was programmed for it. And when he grabbed me…” She swallowed. “He’s impossibly strong, Davey. He held me there and made me watch as his men beat Sabin to death.”

“Sabin’s very much alive and still cracking jokes. Weston, too. They’ll be okay.”

“Oh, thank God.”

He glanced back at the soldier, at the broad frame, the dark, dead eyes behind the black mask, the way he stood too still. Something familiar there. Something that itched in the back of his mind.

Revenant One was trouble.

His hand found the small of Rowan’s back, a protective gesture as much as a reassuring one. He guided her across the gleaming marble floor of the lobby. If anyone noticed her bruises or split lip, they quickly turned away and minded their own business.

Just another night at The Echelon.

Atlas Frost was still at the bar, swirling the same glass of whiskey. His eyes tracked their movement, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. He raised his glass in a silent toast as they passed.

Yeah, Fuck Frost.

Whatever game he was playing, now wasn’t the time to confront it.

But as they stepped into the night, Stirling’s words whispered back through his mind.

One day, you’ll realize what you lost.

He had a sinking feeling that day was already here.

thirty-nine

Davey stoodat the rooftop door, the handle cold beneath his fingers. Cade was already out there, back turned, shoulders rigid, the bitterly cold wind snapping at his shirt like it was trying to rip him away.

The sunrise reflected off the glass towers of the city like fire.

Somehow, it was morning.

The last time they’d stood on a rooftop together watching the sunrise, it had been after a late night of drunken escapades, not… whatever the hell this was now. Not standing on opposite sides of a fault line, waiting for it to crack wide open.

Jesus, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

He stepped forward, his boots scuffing against the concrete. Cade didn’t turn, but Davey knew he’d heard him. Cade always had a way of knowing when someone was there—one of the things that had made him so good at his job. One of the things Davey used to admire.

“I figured you’d come up here,” Davey said, keeping his voice low. Neutral. “We both like to brood on rooftops.”

Cade snorted but didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on the skyline.

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