Page 52 of Lady and the Hitman
I crept into a clearing near the Africa exhibit, where the enclosures stretched wide and dimly lit for theanimals that roamed even now—zebra, giraffe, kudu, antelope. Their shapes moved through moonlight with a kind of elegant detachment, untouchable and unbothered, like they didn’t care who watched.
I watched them, though.
Watched the way they moved. Silent. Observant. Still until the moment called for motion.
There was something in it. Something I could use.
I ducked through a break in the landscaping and followed a narrow maintenance path that curved behind the lion habitat. My pulse quickened as I passed it—the knowledge that something more powerful than me prowled just beyond the fence added a delicious edge to the night.
And then I saw it. A perfect spot.
A grove of dense palms near a viewing platform, elevated enough to give me a full view of the path but shadowed enough to keep me hidden. I slid into position, crouching low, every sense burning.
Now I was the predator.
Footsteps passed—twice.
Two different men, neither of them Ronan. One was tall and broad with long strides and a military posture, his face hard and unsmiling. The other looked younger. Cockier. Smirking as he scanned the trees.
Both were hunting. But neither for me.
Then came the third.
I knew it was him before I saw his face.
My body knew.
My blood recognized the gravity of his presence. The air thickened, charged. The hair on my arms rose.
Ronan.
He moved like night itself—quiet and precise, all dark fabric and measured strength. His gaze was sharp,sweeping the perimeter with calm confidence, like he already knew I was there. Like he just wanted me to believe he didn’t.
I waited until he was directly in front of me.
For a single, suspended moment, I let myself feel it.
The pulse in my throat.
The electric hum beneath my skin.
The wild, burning truth of what this was.
Everything about him—about this—was wrong in all the ways that made it feel so impossibly right. I’d never been more alive. Never been more aware of every nerve, every shallow breath, every slick throb of anticipation between my thighs. My body was taut with it. Strung tight and trembling, like the pause before a thunderclap.
I had no idea what would happen next.
And that was the most thrilling part of all.
Not knowing if he’d pin me down or pull me close.
Not knowing if I’d beg or bite.
Not knowing if this moment would break me open or finally make me whole.
He was the storm, and I was the girl who had run headfirst into it.
Not because I wanted to be saved.
