Page 34 of Sinful
The guilt twists deeper.
"The meeting tomorrow," Runes continues. "I’d appreciate it if you could be there. We need everyone who has information about Los Coyotes operations. Anything you remember from—" He pauses delicately. "—your time with Andrés Medina."
My heart stops.
Starts again too fast.
They want me to talk about Andrés. The man I dated. The man I killed.
"I don't know much," I manage. "It was just a few dates. Sociology class project stuff."
"Anything helps." Runes's gaze is penetrating. "Where he lived, who he mentioned, places he took you. We're building a profile of their operations, their people. Every detail matters."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Because the details I know—the ones that really matter—are the kind that would get me killed.
Like the fact that I tracked Andrés for six months before I found him.
Like the fact that I put two bullets in his chest and one in his head in a Houston alley.
Like the fact that I'm the reason Los Coyotes came for my father.
Runes and Fenrir move on to another table, and I can finally breathe again.
"You okay?" Elfe's hand finds mine under the table. "You went really pale."
"I'm fine. Just—being back here. It's a lot."
She squeezes my fingers. "I know. But we'll get through this. Together."
Together.
The word feels like a knife.
Because I'm not here to get through this together. I'm here to confess what I did and face whatever consequences come.
Even if it means losing Elfe. Losing everyone.
Again.
My eyes drift back to the bar without permission.
He's still there. Still watching.
This time when our gazes lock, something shifts. His dead eyes spark—just for a second, but I see it. A flash of heat, of interest, of something alive in all that emptiness.
It mirrors what I'm feeling.
This pull I don't understand and definitely don't want.
My face flushes. I look away, pulse hammering.
"Seriously, who is that guy?" Elfe asks. "Because you keep staring at him like?—"
"I'm not staring."
"You absolutely are." She's studying me now with that big sister intuition that's always been too sharp. "Helle. Don't."
