Page 23 of Monstrosity
"Yes, you did." I lean forward, needing him to understand. "And I'm glad you did. Because I've been yours for longer than either of us wants to admit."
"Dasha—"
"Tell me the rest," I interrupt, not ready for whatever protest he's about to make. "What else did Santos say?"
He looks like he wants to argue, but eventually continues.
"He said Flora did more than we knew. She reported suspicious cargo manifests at her job, costing them millions in product. That's why they targeted her specifically." His hands tighten around his wine glass. "And he said that Bembe—their new leader—has been planning something. That taking Flora wasn't enough. He wants to take you too."
The words come crashing down to me. "He wants to kill me to hurt you."
"Over my dead body." The violence in his voice is absolute. "I've already got the club on it. We declared war this morning. Full surveillance on their operations, protection details on all family members."
"Is that why you were acting so strange today? The car outside the coffee shop?"
He nods. "They're not even trying to hide anymore. They want me to know they're watching."
"Wait." A chill runs through me as I remember. "There was a man today. At the coffee shop."
Rio goes completely still. "What man?"
"Mid-thirties, average looking, but something felt off about him. He asked if I was Dasha, said he was a friend of a friend. Then he sat there for over an hour just... watching me." I drain my wine glass, needing the liquid courage. "I thought I was being paranoid, but?—"
"What time?" His voice has gone deadly quiet.
"Around ten-thirty. He ordered black coffee and barely touched it."
"Fuck." Rio's already pulling out his phone, typing rapidly. "Did he say anything else?"
"Just asked if I worked there most days. Rio, I'm sorry, I should have?—"
"No." He reaches across the table, takes my hand. "You did nothing wrong. This is on me for not warning you sooner." He shows me his phone—he's sent a description to someone. "I'm just glad you noticed. Most people wouldn't have."
"So what do we do?"
"We keep you safe. I've already texted the club—there are brothers watching the house right now. Tomorrow we'll figure out a better long-term solution. Maybe you stay here for a while, or?—"
"Or maybe we stop pretending this is just about keeping me safe." I stand, moving around the table until I'm standing in front of him. "Maybe we finally admit what this really is."
He looks up at me, and the hunger in his eyes makes my knees weak. "Dasha, this isn't the time?—"
"When will it be the time, Rio?" I'm tired of waiting, tired of pretending. "When there's no danger? When the girls are older? When you stop being scared of letting me in?"
"I'm not scared of letting you in." He stands too, towering over me even in my heels. "I'm scared of losing you."
"Then stop pushing me away." I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. "I'm here. I'm choosing to be here, knowing the risks. Let me choose you."
For a moment, we just stare at each other, years of unspoken want crackling in the air between us.
Then his phone buzzes.
He checks it, frowning. "Tor says there's movement outside. Two cars, both ends of the street." He types quickly. "They're just watching for now, but?—"
"But they're making sure we know they're there." The reality of the situation hits me again. "Rio, maybe I should?—"
"No." He sets his phone down, frames my face with his hands. "Whatever you're about to suggest that involves you leaving, the answer is fuck no."
"I was going to say maybe I should learn to shoot."
