Page 22 of Misery
"Tomorrow we go back," she says. "Face whatever's coming."
"Tomorrow."
"But tonight, I'm safe."
"You're always safe with me."
She falls asleep like that, inches away but miles from where we started the night.
I lie awake, listening to her breathe.
Thinking about Los Coyotes.
About whoever else is hunting them.
About the war that's coming.
But mostly thinking about her.
This broken artist who paints her nightmares.
Who wants a monster to keep her safe.
Who kissed me like salvation and damnation combined.
She doesn't know I've been watching her for seven months.
Doesn't know how deep this obsession runs.
How many men I've already killed to keep her breathing.
But she will. Eventually, the truth always comes out.
When it does, she'll either run or she'll understand that she’s mine.
CHAPTER THREE
Elfe
I wake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the smell of coffee mixing with bacon.
For a moment, I don't know where I am.
Then it crashes back—the texts, the blood on concrete, Oskar's cottage by the water. His bed.
I'm alone in it now.
The sheets beside me are cold, but they smell like him.
Pine and leather and something wild I can't name.
I stayed here last night.
Slept beside the Executioner and felt safer than I have since the attack.
My phone's on the nightstand, screen dark with missed notifications.
I ignore it.
