Page 89 of Only for Him
She laughs, a raw and broken sound.
“Sure,” she says, eyes flicking up and down my imposing bulk. It’s a gift in every other scenario but here. “And then what? A fate worse than death?”
I shake my head. “We get you somewhere safe. You pick the place.”
Her laugh dies. “You’re full of shit.”
I turn toward Giselle. Dakota’s afraid of me. But Giselle? She’s a wildcard. Woman-shaped balm. A flame for the moth.
“She’s scared of me,” I say. “You talk to her.”
I don’t like it.
Not because I doubt Giselle can handle her—but because the way Dakota looked at her, like she was the one person in the room who might still meansafe, made something burn in my throat.
I can get this girl to trust her, I’m sure.
But can I trust Giselle?
Dakota looks back at me, sneering. “Who is she?”
“She’s here to help,” I say, in Russian, before turning to Giselle and repeating myself in English. She gives a small nod.
Dakota rakes her gaze over Giselle like she’s stripping her for weaknesses.
Good luck, kid.
I’m pretty sure I’m her only weakness.
That’s what makes her so fucking perfect.
“You’re not like the others,” Dakota says, English thick with accent. Her voice is laced with loathing, but not for Giselle. For what’s been done to her.
The difference matters.
“No,” Giselle says. “I’m not. We’re going to leave. All of us. Together. You just have to follow us.”
Dakota hesitates, then nods. But her hands tremble, fists clenched so tight I can see the blood flush her knuckles.
“Are you ready?” I ask, Russian again. “We won’t do anything until you’re ready, but we need to do it soon.”
The girl scans my face, holding back a scream. But then she closes her eyes and nods.
“Okay,” I say, pulling my mask back in place. “We move now.”
Giselle’s eyes snap to mine and I see it: not fear, not hesitation. Certainty. Resolve.
It hits me like a drug.
We’re aligned as something feral and focused, born of blood and bite.
In this moment, there is nothing between us but a purer, more righteous desire: to save this girl, because she deserves a life she can call her own.
I think we both know what it’s like to live a life decided by other people and their tragedies.
And she finally believes that I’m not her enemy.
God, that feelsgood.
