Page 66 of F*ckboys

I'm impressed that he knows me so well he can see I was changed by a nightmare or whatever that was. And he's not beating around the bush. But his words make me feel defensive. "You wanted to be part of a cause where we sought revenge on people who deserve it, Grave. Now you have it."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, tension gathering in his shoulders. "This goes beyond revenge, Fallon. I don't like what I see. There's something about you that's increasingly off. It's like your boundaries keep shifting further and further out. I was okay with the candiru fish plan at the time, but the more I think about it, the uneasier I get. We disabled someone, Fallon. How much further are you willing to go? For years, I've felt like I was the one that needed to be reeled in. And that's the way it was meant to be. But now, it feels like it's becoming you that needs to be stopped before you go too far. Before you go somewhere impossible to come back from."

Irritation flares in my chest at his judgment. "People are dynamic, and they change over time. Including me. You don't get to decide who I become, Grave." I step into his space, tilting my chin up in defiance. "Only I can do that. And here it is. Here I am." I spread my arms wide, spinning slowly. "Take a good look, Grave. Do you still recognize me?"

He inhales sharply and closes his eyes, pain etched into the lines of his face. A wave of nausea washes over me as understanding dawns—he sees himself in the creature I'm becoming. The ghosts of his past are awakening from their slumber, stirred by the echoes of a familiar darkness.

When Grave opens his eyes again, shadows cling to their depths. His voice is rough with emotion, threaded with anguish and longing. "I don't want to lose you to these feelings, Fallon. Not like I lost myself."

"Don't be so dramatic, Grave," I say dismissively, "it doesn't suit you."

The next morning dawns pale and weak, a grim reminder of the shadows now lurking within. As I drive along the city streets, I glance at my reflection in my rear-view mirror, searching fortraces of the woman I used to be. All I find is a stranger with dead, hollow eyes and a twisted smile.

When I get to work, Grave is waiting in my office. But today he's not flicking apple peels onto the floor or sitting with his feet on my desk. He's standing, almost nervous.

"You again? So early?" I smirk, trying to dissipate the tension that is way too much this early In the morning, especially pre-coffee.

He studies me for a long moment before speaking. "What we talked about yesterday... I want you to promise me something." His voice is strained, as if forcing the words out causes him physical pain.

I arch a brow. "And if I don't feel like promising you anything?"

Hurt flickers in his gaze, but he swallows it down. Resignation settles over his features as he realizes he can no longer reach the woman trapped inside this shell. "Don't lose yourself completely, Fallon. No matter how deep you descend into the darkness... there's always a way back."

"Maybe I don't want to come back, Grave," I say. "I've left that person behind. The less cynical person who truly believed in being able to change the world through good intentions. Now I've learned that in order to make a real difference you have to be ruthless, willing to do whatever it takes. That's how we really help these women, Grave. And that's how I'll fix things in my personal life."

"There was nothing wrong with how you were before, Fallon," Grave furrows his brow. "You're beginning to scare me."

"The only way out is through, Grave. There's nothing I need less than a scared partner or a cowardly confidant. I need bravery and ruthlessness." I meet his eyes, allowing him to glimpse the shadows writhing beneath the surface. "And there's no turning back now. You're either with me or you're not."

He frowns, and I see a battle play out on his normally blank face, a duel between loyalty and fear.

"Well, I'm here for you if and when you need me," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

I guess loyalty wins today.

Chapter 35

Fallon

The phone rings, startling me from my restless sleep. It's Mia. She rarely calls, preferring to text, and when she does it's definitely not late at night. Something must be up.

I answer immediately.

Her choked sobs crackle through the line. "Fallon, I'm so sorry to call you this late. But I really need to talk to you…"

My senses sharpen. "Don't be sorry. Are you okay? What happened?"

"I went on a date tonight and it was a disaster. He wouldn't stop touching me, and he said the most disgusting things. I feel so violated." Her words tumble out in an anguished torrent.

Rage boils in my veins, searing away the last vestiges of drowsiness. My fists clench, nails biting into my palms.

"Did that bastard hurt you? Who was he? Where did you meet him? Where does he live? Tell me everything, Mia. Now."

She inhales sharply. "No, I got away before he could do anything worse. But Fallon, the way he looked at me..." A shuddering breath. "Like I was nothing but a piece of meat for him to devour. He seemed so nice online and then he was just so different in person and I—"

"I'll kill him." The words slip out unbidden, borne of a possessiveness bordering on obsession. Mia is my best friend and therefore mine to protect, and anyone who dares violate her will face my rage. My clients' fuckboys should fear my wrath, but someone who hurts my best friend can expect a whole new level of hell to rain down on them.

"No, please don't do anything rash!" Mia pleads. "I just needed to hear your voice. You always make me feel safe and I knew you'd understand. I'm home now and I'm going to be okay. I blocked his number and he doesn't know where I live or anything."

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