Page 99 of Unmask
I blinked hard, trying to keep it all down. The tears burning behind my eyes. The ache squeezing my chest. The desperate, clawing grief of what I had to do tonight, but my chest trembled anyway, a shudder rolling through me before I could stop it, betraying every emotion I was trying to hide.
Kreed felt it. Of course, he did.
His body tensed beneath me, instantly alert. He tipped my chin up with gentle fingers, thumb brushing beneath my jaw in a tender way that made my heart stutter. The touch coaxed my gaze to his, and I found myself drowning in silver eyes that saw too much. His brows furrowed, concern etching lines across his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re already regretting what happened.”
I shook my head fiercely, hair whipping across my shoulders. “No. No regrets.”
His features softened. “What is it then?” His thumb traced my cheekbone, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “Kenny?”
I swallowed hard, the movement painful in my throat. I nodded because it was easier than unpacking all of it, but it wasn’t just Kenny.
Not really.
It was everything. It was the rising panic in my chest, whispering that I was running out of time. It was knowing I’d just given the last unbroken piece of myself to someone who’d already ruined me in a hundred different ways and still managed to put me back together again, piece by shattered piece.
I never imagined in a million years I would feel such heartache having to say goodbye to him. Not after whathappened at the warehouse and not after all the blood and betrayal. Not after all the venom we’d spit and swallowed and all the ways our crews tried to destroy each other.
And yet, here I was.
Falling harder with every breath.
That was the cruelest twist of all.
“I didn’t mean to get emotional,” I whispered, blinking fast as the tears slipped free anyway, hot trails down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It just…it hit me.”
Kreed’s arm tightened around me, tugging me flush against him until there was no space left between us. His lips brushed my temple, warm and reassuring, the kiss soft as a whisper. “Don’t apologize for feeling something.”
“I wasn’t supposed to,” I murmured against his skin, breathing in that scent I’d grown addicted to. “That wasn’t in the cards for us.”
The fire cracked and popped, sparks dancing up the chimney. “Don’t give up hope. Not yet. I’m waiting on a call.”
I lifted my head slightly, hope and fear warring in my chest. “Another lead?”
He nodded once, jaw set with determination. “A new location. We’re not done, not even close.”
I hesitated. “The Crew?”
Kreed’s mouth curved in a faint but tired smile, lines of exhaustion bracketing his eyes. “No. The Elite this time. I forwarded your cousin the data I got the other day. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have more eyes on it.”
I let out a slow breath, hope blooming in my chest. “And?”
He shrugged. “It was useful.”
“Good.” What Kreed didn’t know was that I was banking on that information being what saved me. I might be freeing Kenny, but I needed Kreed to find me. The irony wasn’t lost on me,trusting the one who had a part in destroying my life to become my salvation.
He looked down, brows drawing together as if he saw something through the tears, as if he could read my mind. His eyes searched my face, and I wondered what he found there.
I hadn’t anticipated this panicky desperation gripping me, everything inside begging me to stay by Kreed’s side. It was basic survival instincts, but Kenny wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me. I owed her everything.
I owed her my life.
I lay longerthan I should have, cocooned in Kreed’s embrace, my skin still tingling from his touch as I absorbed his warmth like a dying star soaking in the last of its light before burning out. His arm was heavy across my waist, his fingers splayed possessively over my hip, and for a moment, I let myself pretend this was real. That we had time. That tomorrow wasn’t coming for us both.
But the hands on the clock continued to tick past, and eventually, I peeled myself off the couch, the separation like tearing skin from bone. Kreed released a groan of complaint, his arms reaching for me instinctively, his fingers grasping at empty air. His eyes were still closed, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, but a frown pulled at his mouth. “Don’t go,” he muttered.
I wish I didn’t have to. I really do.“I need to pee,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the sudden chill. He wouldn’t protest further when my bladder was in question, giving me the excuse I needed.
“Hurry,” he mumbled, still mostly asleep.
