Page 99 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
Her lips part, but no sound comes. For a moment, neither of us moves.
Because the girl standing in front of me might have Eleanor’s face, but the spark that made her who she was is frighteningly absent.
I take a slow step toward her.
“Eleanor,” I whisper again.
She looks at me and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Her hair is mid length now, the ends freshly trimmed, her fringe neatly cut across her forehead. She looks well… too well, almost.
She’s wearing a light grey sweatshirt with matching joggers and white trainers. There’s a touch of makeup on her face, but not enough to hide how pale she is.
On the surface, she looks fine. Healthy, even.
But her expression tells another story. She just looks lost.
Octavia steps closer beside me, seeing the same thing I do. Adelaide and Piper join, the four of us forming a circle around her.
Questions burn in my throat, where she’s been, what happened, why she disappeared, but when I open my mouth, only three words come out.
“I missed you.”
She startles slightly at my voice, but she doesn’t move away, so I close the small distance between us and wrap my arms around her. It takes her a moment to respond, but then her hands come up, tentative, returning the hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I whisper against her shoulder.
She nods, gives another small smile, still empty, and steps back.
Adelaide watches her closely, her eyes sharp and assessing, the way she does when she’s trying to read someone’s truth without them saying it aloud.
We all see it, but none of us dare say it.
A sound from the men’s dorm makes me look up.
Arlo, Isaak, Hunter, and Milo stand near the entrance, speaking with a man I don’t recognise.
He’s taller than any of them, lean, strong, put together in a way that draws attention without trying. There’s something almost graceful about him, but it doesn’t make him soft. Even from here, he feels dangerous.
His hair is black, cut just above his eyes.
His gaze drifts across the courtyard and lands on Eleanor. It stays there, blank, and something tightens in my chest.
“Who is that?” I murmur.
Adelaide follows my gaze. “Ido Renford,” she says, her tone low. “Heir to a major American tech dynasty, at least, that’s what the papers say. But rumour has it he’s something else entirely. An assassin with ties to the Bratva. Likely how he knowsIsaak and the others.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly. “No one’s ever been able to prove it. He was adopted into the Renford family in New York, raised elite, but whispers follow him everywhere.”
I nod slowly, letting the information settle.
When I glance back, Arlo’s eyes are already on me, that familiar midnight blue meeting green.
The moment stretches, silent and charged, before he looks away. My chest aches in a way I wish it didn’t.
Now that we’re back at St. Monarche´, I suppose everything will slip into place again. The same routines.
The same masks.
Still, I’m foolish enough to hope it won’t.
