Page 69 of His Sinner

Our story begins when that ring is on her finger and our vows leave our lips. I do.

Trevor will have to do a lot worse than bury me alive to stop me from crawling back to her. From spending the rest of my life with her until we’re old and gray. Until we’re nothing but dust.

I dig my way through the dirt until a muffled sound makes me pause.

Over the hiss of the earth shifting around me comes the patter of rain.

Fuck. My research for this chapter in my novel was thorough—wet dirt will be much more difficult to claw my way through. Heavy and compact, a near-superhuman strength required to push through it.

My limbs grow weak as the panic rises. Briar is still out there. Trevor is on his way to her. And I may be stuck here for hours.

For good.

My breaths turn shallow, head growing lighter.

Calm the fuck down. You can’t protect her if you die here.

Maybe Trevor was right. This is how my story ends.

And Briar’s...I don’t want to imagine her next chapter without me. A vulnerable target to a crazed man who’s gotten away with so many crimes before.

Her next chapters were supposed to be joyous. She’d find her name in the dedication of my next book, and she’d become my wife. She’d move into Nicholson Manor with me, surrounded by books she could spend every day reading to her heart’s content. We’d write side by side, inspiring each other to pen every page.

My mother’s voice, years since I last heard it, fills my ears. The stories she’d read to me before bed, her requests to hear the stories I wrote for her, her certainty that I’d write a book one day.

Meeting Briar. Hearing her passion for my books. Grabbing the pan from her hand when she swung it at me. Dodging her fist when she aimed it at my face. Savoring the ecstasy that made her eyes roll and mouth fall open in a moan. Grinning when her musical laugh enveloped my heart. Rejoicing when she defended me, fought for me, showed her love for me even when she couldn’t voice it. Watching her feelings for me shift from fear to trust. From hate to love.

She’s all that matters. I can’t die without convincing her that I did nothing to hurt her. That everything I ever did was to protect her, love her, keep her safe, make her happy.

Through the dirt above my head and the rain turning torrential, a muffled, high-pitched scream reaches my ears.

Briar. My muse.

My heart stops. He has her. He’s going to hurt her.

I need to get to her. I cannot stop until I do. Until I rip her from his hands.

My racing heart slows. I’m not digging my way out of this grave for me. I’m doing this for her.

She needs to know. Everything I do is for her.

I need to hear her laugh again. Her voice. Her sarcasm. Her taunts. Her moans. Her defiance.

I need to hold her again. I need to be with her, even if my body gives out the second I get her in my arms again.

With each shift of the loose dirt around me, I hear Briar’s voice.

Are you following me?

This is my favorite book. By my favorite author.

He writes in a way that makes me feelunderstood. Like in a way no one else in the world ever has.

S.T. Nicholson feels like a kindred spirit. Like if we met, we would justget each other.

I swear to god, if you break my fucking heart, I’ll break you.

As insane as it makes me, yes. I want to come back and be here. With you.

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