Page 171 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

There’s just something comforting once I look past his McPerky demeanor. Something else lingers there. Something I like.

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical, but doesn’t argue. He’s smart enough to know a woman on the edge when he sees one.

I sink back into the booth, pulling out my phone, desperate for a distraction. Something normal.

Instead, I get a fae-smut update from my mom. Perfect.

MOM: Update on book 2. The Light Queen just tied the Crow Prince up with her vines

MOM: Then she said, “Now be a good boy and open that pretty beak for your queen.” WE. WERE. SCREAMING.

MOM: Patty had to fan herself for ten minutes.

POPPY: MOM!

MOM: It’s a very compelling power dynamic, sweetie. I’m just saying.

POPPY: I’m blocking you.

MOM: Oh please. I’ll send an update after chapter 24. Apparently something very interesting happens involving his feathers.

POPPY: I’m begging you to stop

After ordering, Declan pours a cup of tea, slow and careful, the steam curling between us in lazy tendrils.

First mine.

Then his.

It’s such a small thing, but somehow it breaks me a little more.

I wrap my hands around the tiny cup, letting the warmth bleed into my fingers, willing it to anchor me.

He leans back. A look of curiosity is evident on his face, and I know we’re about to launch into a conversation that is not wrapped around our case or what we just did in the massage parlor.

“Why sex crimes?”

I blink.

Of all the things I thought he might say, that wasn’t on the bingo card.

I sip the tea to buy time.

It tastes earthy and clean and a little bitter—like honesty. I never really share this part of my life, but something about the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like it’s okay.

Like there’s something familiar about him that I just can’t pinpoint.

“My mother was raped,” I say, voice low and even. “And I’m the result.”

Declan doesn’t move. He just... listens.

“My mom never got justice,” I continue, my fingers tightening around the teacup. “She identified her attacker. Stood before him and told everyone what happened. Used his name when she talked about the crime he committed against her.” I laugh—brittle and small. “But they dismissed the case. Not enough evidence.”

I force myself to meet his eyes.

“I wanted to help women win. Even if it’s just one at a time. Even if it’s just once.”

Declan’s face stays locked in that stoic, unreadable way.

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