Page 77 of Web of Lies
Neither of us moves, locked in place, our chests the only parts of us that move, rising and falling erratically against each other. The chilly night air clings to my sweat-slicked skin, sending shivers through my limbs and goosebumps sprouting across my arms and legs.
It was fast, messy, and desperate, but good. My pulse pounds in my ears, my thighs trembling against the edge of the table. Through the haze of exhaustion, I can't help but smile. I've always loved quickies just as much as drawn-out sessions where I'm taken apart piece by piece for hours on end.
Kyle releases a deep, throaty exhale against my neck, his hot breath warming my damp skin. With a sigh, I melt further into him, clinging to him as I bask in the afterglow and the way he lingers, as if he's not ready to let go.
Eventually, though, reality trickles back in, one by one. The rough edge of the patio table pressing against my thighs, the cool night air brushing over my heated skin, and the faint chirp of crickets in the distance.
"What was that for?" My breath hitches as I press my hands to his chest, pushing him back just enough to put an inch of space between us.
"You looked hot as hell while shooting," he says without hesitation. His gaze traces my body before snapping back up. "I liked the view."
"You're ridiculous." I huff and shake my head, though my heart still leaps at his confession. "We should probably clean up before they get back," I say, tilting my head to meet his gaze.
Kyle grins that wicked grin of his. "Yeah. And delete their security footage while we’re at it."
I let out a sharp snort and roll my eyes so hard that they almost hit the back of my skull. "Lucky I'm good at this."
"Lucky you are."
I'm lying on the bed, staring out the window at the starry night sky, and replaying the last two weeks in my mind. It's not that the memories haunt me, but that I'm finally able to piece them together. Every detail. Every choice. And what I'm about to do.
Life can be harsh and unfair. Sometimes, it really comes down to kill or be killed. Unlike a deer, Jackson is not a harmless creature wandering through the woods. He's a predator. A threat. When I first picked up a pistol, thinking about ending someone's life one day, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. My stomach twisted until I thought I'd be sick. But now, that feeling is gone. I'm not happy about what's coming, but I'm no longer afraid of it. Because if I don't stop him first, he'll be the one to kill me.
At the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, I sit up straight. Kyle stands in the doorway with his broad shoulders filling the frame, his back still turned toward me. Evelyn and Noah came back about thirty minutes ago, and Kyle interrupted their conversation just long enough for me to finish swappingthe security footage that showed us having sex in their backyard in clear view.
"Good night," he calls out. "And please don't try stabbing me tonight."
A low grunt echoes from down the hall. "Don't give me a reason to," Noah says.
"Does watching you sleep count?"
"Yes. And in that case, I'll shoot you."
"What a shame," Kyle says with a sigh, like it's the greatest disappointment of his life. "I like being your sleep paralysis demon."
The hallway falls silent for a moment before a door slams shut. The sound vibrates through the walls until the house falls completely silent. Kyle then finally turns and pulls the door shut, his eyes finding mine.
"What did he mean by that?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just us teasing each other."
"Teasing," I repeat, skeptical, "by threatening each other?"
He shrugs as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Sad to inform you, but that's something you'll need to get used to." His eyes linger on me. "I kind of expected you to be asleep already."
"I can't," I admit, my throat dry.
"What's wrong?" His voice is softer now, and he sits down on the bed beside me.
"I'm just thinking."
"About what?" Kyle lets out a sigh.
"Everything," I say. "What happened. What is going to happen." I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them, hugging them close to my chest. "It's like the past couple of weeks flipped everything I thought I knew upside down. What's right and what's wrong. I thought I was doing the right thing, even if it wasn't clean or honest. But now I'm understanding that sometimes, you don't get to choose between right and wrong." Irest my cheek on my knees and keep my eyes on him, studying the subtle changes in his expression as he listens. "But the scariest part is, I'm starting to understand what you're doing."
"You do?" Kyle's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
"Yes," I nod. "I may not understand every choice you make or how your mind works. But I understand this: you grew up in an environment where this was accepted. You love your mother and had the choice of whether to care for her or not. For you, the right choice was to take care of her." To soothe myself, I start picking at my cuticles. "And if I’m being honest, if I had grown up in your shoes, I don’t think I would have made different choices than you did. Maybe I’d like to believe I would have, but deep down? I know I would do whatever it took to protect the people I love, too."
