Page 49 of Make Them Cry
My legs move before my brain catches up.
He’s waiting in the shadows near a side street. Hoodie up. His face hidden by a sleek, black mask that covers his face. A balaclava.
I stop a few feet away, trying to steady my breath. “You’re here.”
“I needed to see you.”
“You’re always watching.”
His head tilts. “You noticed.”
“I’ve noticed a lot of things.” My voice is hushed, unsteady. “Like how you never stay long. Or how your voice sounds different sometimes. But not tonight.”
He doesn't answer. Just watches me like I’m something delicate and dangerous all at once.
I take a step forward. “Can I…see you?”
A pause. Then: “Soon.”
That one word makes me ache.
I don’t know what overtakes me—boldness, longing, or just sheer desperation—but I close the distance between us and press my hands against his chest.
He’s real. Solid. Warm.
And when I tilt my face up to his, he doesn’t pull away.
I lift the mask to where only his mouth is uncovered, and then I kiss him. It takes him a second to register, and then he’s kissing me back.
Hard. Like he’s been waiting for this. Like he’s been holding himself back for weeks and this is the moment it breaks. His hands find my waist, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I gasp into his mouth, and he takes it, deepening the kiss. Tongue sliding against mine, breath mingling, his head angling to get even deeper.
He tastes like danger and comfort all at once. Like secrets and safety.
He backs me into the wall, and I let him. His fingers splay across my lower back, pressing me into him. I feel everything—his strength, his restraint, his hunger.Him.It’s hard, and I rock my center against it, and he grips me even tighter.
This is not just a kiss.
It’s a war.
And I surrender.
When we finally part, I’m breathless. Dazed.
“Why now?” I whisper. “Why tonight?”
He rests his forehead against mine. “Because I couldn’t stay away.”
I reach for his face, but he pulls back. Mask already sliding down again. Hiding.
“Wait—please?—”
He presses a gloved finger against my lips.
“I can’t,” he says.
My throat tightens. “Who are you?”
