Page 71 of Like a Hurricane

And now I’m so irrevocably in love with her it physically pained me to have to pretend she was dead. And not only that, but it’s also my name on the database that’s going to claim the kill. My name. Her death was on me.

Regardless of the outcome we were aiming for, regardless that this was the best way to keep her safe and give her, her life back, I wasn’t ashamed to admit it scared me.

Because what if I am not enough to protect her?

What if faking her death pushes us over that invisible line? What if this is tempting fate?

Swallowing down the bile that burns my throat, I prod the fire, moving the burning logs so I can get another piece inside. Embers burst from the logs, crackling loudly.

I understand Torin’s grief now. Understand it in a way I couldn’t before. When Grace died, and his son, I truly couldn’t understand why it hit Torin as hard as it did. He was a shell of the man he used to be, the grief eating him up inside.

It made me entirely heartless to not try to understand it better, but we were raised to not have those kinds of weaknesses. The marriage was whatever, I assumed he wanted to continue our family legacy and was using Grace to do it. They got married and had a kid quick so it didn’t occur to me that he could actually be in love.

I suppose having to do this now, with Arryn and the first person I have ever truly loved was the price I had to pay for the selfishness I used to think with.

I’d helped my brother with Maya because I saw what she meant to him, saw what she had done for him, how she had brought him back and knew my brother needed her. I never believed I’d be in the same boat as them now.

I glance towards Arryn who has dozed off on the couch, buried under a mountain of blankets, only the top of her head could be seen.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow we would stage a scene and I’ll upload the images to the site. It would take a few hours before I would hear back on if the images were acceptable or not, but if I was going to do this, there was only one way it would end.

In success.

They will believe she’s dead because it’s me who did it.

I do not miss. I do not make mistakes.

For all they know, Arryn Lauder is no longer going to be a problem.

Chapter Thirty-five

Everett is quiet.

He moves through the cabin silently, brooding. His shoulders tense, spine stiff and face set in grim concentration. His laptop has remained open since we woke up this morning but he’s yet to say a word. He’s touched me gently, a quick caress of his fingers across my back, or a peck of his lips on my forehead, but no words.

It was making me edgy.

“You’re making me nervous, Everett,” I say to him. He’s paced the room so much I was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole into the floor.

“I’m trying to think,” he says quietly, gently.

“About?” I press.

“My kills are almost always with a bullet. They’re quick and effective.”

“Effective? What does that even mean?”

“I aim for the skull, princess, and I don’t miss.”

“Oh.”

He presses his lips together, “That isn’t going to work for us. I don’t have blood nor the skills to make it look realistic. I should have thought about this.” He growls out that last bit more to himself.

“It’s okay,” I look around the room, “How much blood do you need?”

“The blood isn’t just the problem, princess.”

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