Page 98 of Sweet Sinners
"Connor," she breathes, eyes blazing, desperate. "I don't care what you had to do to survive. What matters is now. You're here, with me. We bleed the same, baby."
Something inside me snaps. The rage loosens its grip, leaving behind exhaustion and relief. My fists slowly unclench. My heart pounds in my chest, aching from more than just the wound.
"Connor," she urges softly, grounding me again. "Get something to tie her hands. The police are on their way. We've worked too hard, fought too long. I'm choosing you right now. Are you choosing revenge, or are you choosing me?"
My throat closes, emotion choking me. Cali’s gaze holds me steady, the only clarity I've had in years.
I exhale shakily, nodding, the decision settling like steel inside me.
"I'm choosing you," I whisper.
Her eyes soften, relief and love shining in their depths. It's time we end this, once and for all.
Without another word, I stride quickly to the kitchen. I grab an old, ragged towel—thin, worn from years of use—and return, binding Anna’s wrists tightly. Cali scrambles off Anna, backing away quickly before standing.
Her eyes suddenly widen. "Shit, Connor, you're shot."
I glance down, noticing for the first time how the blood soaks through my shirt. I flex my fingers, feeling them cold, numb. "Yeah," I say quietly. "Kind of sucks."
"Give me your phone," she blurts, urgency making her voice shake. "We need to check if—"
Sirens cut through the air, drowning her words.
She exhales sharply, relief visibly washing over her. She closes the distance, pressing her forehead against my chest, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt. Her body trembles violently as the fear andadrenaline finally break through her defenses. Her shoulders shake with sobs she's clearly been holding in.
"She was going to kill me," Cali whispers, voice raw with emotion.
I rub her back gently with my good hand, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head. "I wasn't gonna let that happen, Angel," I promise roughly. "You're gonna live a long, beautiful life."
Her tear-filled eyes find mine, wide with lingering terror. She rises on tiptoe, and I lean down instinctively, kissing her softly, tenderly, then deeper, needing to feel her alive and safe in my arms. Her warmth seeps into me, melting away some of the sharpness of pain.
"Calliope," I breathe against her lips, her name a quiet promise.
She brushes her fingers through my hair, her gaze softening as she whispers, "I already see it, Connor. We'll finally go to the lake. Visit every restaurant you've dreamed about. I'll take a long vacation, we'll be normal and finally free."
She makes it sound so simple, as if the only thing holding us back was everyone thinking I'm guilty. It won't be that easy—I know it won't—but right now, holding her, it feels possible. With Cali, surviving anything feels possible.
I draw her closer, wrapping my injured arm around her despite the ache, holding her tighter. Resting my cheek on her hair, I sigh deeply. "Thank you."
Two sharp knocks echo from the front door, breaking us apart. I grip her hand firmly as I open it, and officers rush inside.
One cop steps forward, glancing warily at me, but Cali points toward the study, speaking quickly, clearly. "Anna attacked us. She tried to kill us both. There’s a gun and a knife. I think she's still unconscious but I’m afraid she might wake up."
The officers finally move, taking control as they should’ve from the beginning. They question me, and I answer without hesitation. Calidoes the same. We hand over all the footage, all the evidence we’ve carefully gathered against Anna.
They load me onto the stretcher, and Cali refuses to release my hand. Even as the paramedics tell her to step back, she ignores them, gripping me tighter, her knuckles white. Her whole body trembles, the adrenaline crashing now. I don't look away from her, not until they wheel me into surgery at the hospital and force her to let go.
I'm not afraid, not of surgery, recovery, or even the inevitable media chaos. None of it matters, because I have Cali. She'll be there when I wake, and she’ll stay beside me every step after that.
And soon, she’ll realize she loves me exactly the way I love her.
Chapter forty-six
Cali
BythetimeConnoris released from the hospital, the media has turned our lives into a spectacle. Anna’s been labeled everything from a tragic victim to a cold-hearted psychopath. Details leaked—how or by whom, I don’t even care anymore. Connor’s name has finally been cleared, officially and undeniably innocent of our parents’ deaths. He still has to wear that damned ankle monitor a while longer, and after what he confessed during our confrontation with Anna, I get why.
But he never should’ve been behind bars in the first place.
