Page 10 of Psycho Killers

I catch a flash of jealousy in Five's eyes, a mirror of my own. We shake hands and force smiles, burying our true feelings—for Calista's sake. I know she'd never choose just one of us. I've always known. But that doesn't make sharing her with three other men any easier. I do it because I fucking love her fiercely. And I know she loves me... and them, equally.

"I didn't think you were coming," Calista shouts over the screech of tires on asphalt.

"I wasn't going to, but after my visit with Ash..." I yell back, recounting the events, fighting back tears. "I needed to come," I admit, filling them in on what happened tonight.

"So he's alive?" Five asks, worry etched on his brow.

"Yes, fucking miraculously. He's still in a coma, but the doctor promised updates."

I pull Calista close, my arms around her waist, my forearms brushing her bare skin. I kiss her neck, her moan sending a thrill through me. She spins into my arms, her hands entwining in my hair. Her black leggings cling to her curves, accentuating her shapely figure. The thin red crop top barely contains her breasts, revealing her toned abdomen and the sparkling black diamond in her navel. The long sleeves, however, conceal most of her scars, offering a semblance of normalcy amid everything else.

"Ride with me," I blurt out, gazing into her eyes.

Five records my information, then steps back, giving us space. Calista hesitates, the memory of our crash flooding back, fear seizing her.

"I... I don't know, Dom," she whispers, her breath catching. "What if we crash again?"

I hold her tighter, pulling her close. Kissing her forehead, I trail kisses down her nose to her lips, whispering, "We won't. Trust me, Cali."

She closes the distance between our mouths, kissing me instead of answering. I know she doesn't want to talk about it. I know her fear; she hasn't raced since the accident. And I want her trust—the assurance that I'll protect her. But I also know it won't happen overnight.

"If it helps," Five interjects, a soft gasp escaping Calista as her hand tightens in mine.

"You... you think so?" She stammers, struggling to breathe.

He nods. "Yes. I think it'll be good for you to get back out there. Face your fear. Trust Dom to protect you, Calista, just as you trusted me that first night."

Unfamiliar with their first meeting, I feel a pang of confusion, a twinge of jealousy at the look they exchange.

Five's words unexpectedly soothe me, his unwavering support a comfort. Calista's hand, still fiercely gripping mine, trembles. The unspoken history between them hangs heavy, a silent story I'm only beginning to perceive. I squeeze her hand, offering silent reassurance.

"Okay," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the roaring engines.

Fear remains etched on her face, but a spark of determination flickers in her eyes. A fragile flame, easily extinguished, but present nonetheless. I lean down, pressing another kiss to her lips, a kiss brimming with unspoken promises, with a fierce protectiveness burning within me.

"Let's go then," I say, my voice firm and confident, despite the turmoil within.

I lead her to my car, the neon lights reflecting in her dilated pupils. The anxiety lingers, but it's overshadowed by a surge of adrenaline, a potent blend of fear and excitement.

The race is a blur of speed and adrenaline. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline fills my nostrils; the deafening roar of the engines drowns out all else. I focus on the road, on the sleek lines of my car, on the woman beside me, her body pressed against mine. Calista's grip on my arm is white-knuckled, but she doesn't scream, doesn't flinch. She's fighting her fear, battling the ghosts of the past, and I'm with her, every terrifying, exhilarating second of the way.

We win. Or rather, I win, with Calista clinging to me, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with relief and exhilaration. The victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the knowledge that we're only beginning to confront our demons. The race is over, yeah, but the real fucking challenge—the fight to reclaim our lives and our love—has just begun.

As the crowd cheers, I look at Calista, her face streaked with rain and grime, a triumphant smile gracing her lips. And in this moment, amidst the chaos and noise, I know that whatever the future holds, we'll face it together. No matter what.

SIX

IN CONTROL

WHAT IT IS TO BURN: FINCH

CALISTA

The rhythmic swish of the wipers puts me in a trance, and the low hum of the car stereo vibrates through my seat as Dom and I drive home, our hands clasped tightly. Rain continues its gentle drizzle, drowning the city with its drops, completely unapologetic. Each stolen glance reveals the same shadowy expression on Dom's face—his usually bright eyes dull with a profound sadness that consumes his beautiful features. The unspoken weight of Ash hangs heavy between us, an elephant in the small space of the car.

I try not to think about it—about the overdose, about his death, his return, his lingering coma, the agonizing uncertainty of his awakening. But the thought, raw and brutal, relentlessly claws its way back. It's fucking unbearable.

Lost in thought, I barely register the car pulling into the parking garage down the street from our apartment. Dom's gentle tug on my hand brings me back to the present, unfortunately. I offer a strained smile, mirroring the one he forces in return.

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