Page 148 of The Sins of Noelle

I don't know what prompts me to open the topic—what makes me want to have a conversation with her in the first place. Yet after everything I'd heard from Cisco, I'm left with more questions. I knowhisversion. What about hers?

"What about Ann Marie?" she licks her lips, her lashes fluttering as her eyes meet mine.

"Cisco told me you pulled the trigger."

"I did," she admits unflinchingly.

"She was the first person you killed, wasn't she?"

Noelle nods, a sad smile pulling at her lips.

"I didn't kill her, Raf. I saved myself. There's a difference."

"But it affected you, nonetheless, didn't it?" I probe.

"Of course it did," she huffs, her body seemingly slowly relaxing. "I spent years locked in my house because it wasn't safe for me to go out without facing the scrutiny ofeveryone. And trust me, a few years between four walls, alone with your thoughts… It's worse than a prison."

"Did you regret it?"

"What are you asking, Raf?" She raises a brow. "Do you want to ascertain whether Iamcapable of regret? Because I am. That doesn't mean I regret saving myself. Yes, I felt guilty about her death. I had nightmares about it for years. But if I were to go back, knowing what I do now, I would do everything exactly the same," she pauses as she leans forward. "I will never let anyone make me feel guilty about saving myself. Not even you."

My eyes widen. I must admit I didn't expect her words, or the vehemence behind them. Just like I didn't expect the warmth flooding my chest at her self-assuredness and her unapologetic manner.

"I would never ask that of you," I feel compelled to add.

"Good," she gulps down, a wave of uncertainty hitting her and affecting the confidence previously displayed in her body language. "Then you should know that ninety percent of the deaths that occurred by my hand were just that. Self-defense. Survival."

"What about the other ten percent?"

"Yoursurvival."

And with that, she shuts me up.

She knows it too, as I detect a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

We don’t speak for the rest of the flight.

I try my best to lose myself in my political thriller, while Noelle’s attention is riveted on the on-flight entertainment.

Ironic how I’d been the one to try my damned hardest to ignore her, yet it’s her who successfully does it.

My gaze strays to her every now and then, searching her features in an attempt to decipher her.

What’s going through your mind, Noelle?

She hasn’t once inquired about where we’re going, or why I have business in Ciudad de Mexico. She’s simply going along with everything I say.

And somehow that…pisses me off.

I don’t know if I expected her to fight me—if I wanted her to fight me. But I certainly didn’t want her to be this…complacent.

Any reaction is better than this obsequious bullshit she has going on.

How the fuck can she be so calm when I'm boiling on the inside?

I grit my teeth as I catch myself staring at her at one point, unable to believe I'm so fucking gone that I can only exist if my eyes are on her.

If I hadn't known better, I would have said she was a witch. A beautiful, seductive, out of this world witch that has had me wrapped around her little finger from the beginning.

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