Page 68 of The Sniper

I ripped it open so hard the frame rattled, and there he was—the fury in his eyes matching mine beat for beat.

“You followed me?” I snapped.

“You think I was gonna let you go after what just happened?” he barked back, stepping into the doorway. “You could’ve been next.”

“Oh, and that would’ve ruined your plan, right?” I hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “One more body, one less problem.”

His jaw tightened. “You think I’d hurt you?”

“I don’t know what to think, Noah. You lied to me.”

“I’m protecting you,” he growled.

“From what? Yourself?”

“From the people who actually killed your father,” he bit out. “And if you’d stop fighting me long enough to?—”

“I let you touch me,” I cut in, my voice suddenly ragged. “I let you inside me. And you?—”

“I know,” he said, stepping forward, crowding the space between us. “And I would never, never hurt you.”

I hated how close he was.

Hated how my body remembered him even when my heart didn’t trust a single thing he said.

I was angry. Angrier than I’d ever been in my life.

I wanted to scream until my throat bled.

I wanted to throw something—glass, wood, his gun, anything that would shatter loud enough to match what was breaking inside me.

How dare he?

How dare he come into my life like that—like a storm dressed up as a sanctuary.

He held me while I cried over my father. He kissed me like he meant it. He touched me like I was more than just a body.

And now?

Now there was blood on the sand. A man’s head blown open like it was nothing.

Now there was a piece of paper with my daddy’s face and his listed side by side like they were part of the same sick equation.

And Noah had the nerve—the absolute nerve—to act like I was the problem.

Like I was just supposed to keep believing him, keep trusting him, because he said so.

I was shaking with rage, and it was all I could do not to slap that calm, steady face of his and scream until he broke the way he broke me.

Because I had given him everything.

And if he lied—if he was even half responsible for what happened to my daddy?—

I didn’t know what I’d do. But I knew it wouldn’t be forgiving.

“You lied,” I whispered.

“No,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “I didn’t tell you everything. That’s not the same.”

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