Page 102 of Madness & Mercy
Not the kind I slipped on before I lost control.
Theotherkind.
The kind that makes me want to hunt down every bastard who’s ever hurt him, Braga included, and make them disappear.
Because whatever Julian is—liar, spy, hitman—I can’t fucking help it.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to destroy him and started wanting to protect him.
Even if he turns out to be the bullet meant for my head.
I carry him upstairs to my bedroom.
For all that muscle, he’s lighter than he looks. He fits in my arms like he was fuckingbuiltfor it. Doesn’t even stir when I lay him down, just breathes soft and steady, lashes trembling slightly in his sleep. Like some beautiful, breakable thing no one’s ever bothered to handle gently.
And now here I am, tucking the devil into bed.
This is messing with my head.
It’s not justprotectionI’m thinking about anymore.
It’shim.
Julian Cross, with his filthy mouth and fucked-up mind. With the way he looks at me like he wants to kill me and kiss me in the same breath. I should be focused on strategy; on pulling apart his story, unraveling the lies, cutting out the rot. But instead, I’m lying awake thinking about how to make himhappy.
Fucking pathetic.
I don’t do this. I don’tcare.
But he’s branded himself into my skin. Into my fuckingblood.And I can’t get him out.
Who the hell are you, really?
Downstairs, I thought I saw him, just for a second, and it still wasn’t enough.
I don’t sleep. Instead, I lock myself in my office, tearing through everything I can find. Luca’s running his own investigation, but I need answersnow.I need to know what the hell I’ve let into my house… into mybed.
But he’s a fucking ghost.
No socials. No trace. It’s like he never existed.
I slam the laptop shut. Then I think about what he told me. About Braga. About being used. Drugged. Controlled. And Isnap.
Because whether he’s telling the truth or not, whether it’s a full lie or just a twisted piece of it,someone hurt him.
And they’ll bleed for it.
He begged to come with me when I find Braga. Begged tohelp.And I might just let him. I want to see what he’d do. Would he hesitate? Would he make Braga suffer? Would he want me to do it while he watched?
What else does Julian Cross like?
He likes Maserati’s. I promised him one, didn’t I? I’ll deliver it tomorrow. Let him take it for a spin, with me in the passenger seat.
I know he likes being dominated. Not the sweet, willing kind either. He likes beingforcedto give in.Broken down.He provokes on purpose, just to get punished. Pushes until he gets exactly what he wants.
A smirk creeps across my face.
Julian Cross is a brat.
