Page 178 of A Smile Full of Lies
“Always.”
“You made me believe in something again.”
“You made me feel safe,” I whispered. “Even when I shouldn’t have.”
“I will never stop loving you,” he said. “Even if the world tries to take you. Even if the ghosts come back. Even if you run.”
I arched under him, legs wrapped around his hips, tears slipping down my cheeks as I shattered beneath the weight of it.
He followed me. Bit my shoulder. Marked me. And when we both came, it wasn’t loud or wild or primal. It was soft. It washome.
We lay there after, tangled in sweat and breath and everything that had come before. And everything that still waited.
I pressed my lips to his chest, and whispered, “This is ours now.”
Chapter
Forty-One
DECEMBER 17, JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT
ROS
The storm rolled in justafter midnight.
Low thunder. A flicker of lightning behind the curtains. The kind of quiet, intimate weather that made everything feel more private. Like the world outside had been muted just for us.
Knox was getting ready to hop in the shower.
I was supposed to be uploading press materials for the book — a behind-the-scenes bonus bundle for early digital orders. I’d forgotten it was due until the last minute, and he’d offered his laptop since mine was still packed.
“You’ll find the assets folder on the external drive,” he’d said, sweats hanging low on his hips, that lazy wedding-night glow still painted across his face. “Just don’t go poking around in my drafts folder. You’ll start questioning your life choices.”
I’d rolled my eyes. Laughed. Kissed his jaw and shooed him into the bathroom.
And now I was curled on our new bed in Knox’s room at Stonewood Manor, one hand wrapped around a mug of tea,the other navigating a sea of carefully labeled folders on Knox’s laptop.
The external hard drive mounted easily. But the folders? There werehundreds.Organized by year. Then month. Then content type.
Press. Legal. Security. Personal.
And one — tucked near the bottom — simply marked:Drafts.
I hesitated.
He’d said not to look, but in that teasing way that made it sound kind of like a joke.
And I didn’t mean to open it. I really didn’t.
But my cursor slipped. Just once. And that’s when I saw them. Video thumbnails.
Hundreds of them.
Black backgrounds. Neon purple glow. The mask. Nox Obscura’s unposted drafts.
I knew the aesthetic well. Knew the lighting. The editing style. The smooth, dangerous grace of the man behind the mask.
But these… These were different.
