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London reached in her school bag and pulled out what looked like a sandwich and passed it to her. The old woman, who had been moaning and frowning, looked at London and smiled revealing her rotting teeth. London smiled back then put her hand on the woman’s arm and said something to her. And still to this day, I wanted to know what she said. Not that the words were important. But because that single moment changed the course of my life.
I never gave a shit about the homeless. Never thought about them until that moment. I didn’t know what it was, maybe the simple, quiet gesture. Her softness. Her caring. It was something I completely lacked and London’s compassion fed me lightness that filled the dark rift inside me.
It began my need to watch her. I pretended it was to make certain she didn’t become a by-product of Vault’s needs, and it was partially, but it was far more than that. I was addicted to her.
I found myself coming to New York more than I needed to, just so I could feel that lightness again.
But London played with my control even though she didn’t know it. I was on a tether being pulled tight, waiting for it to snap. And it fuckin’ had snapped when I finally had a chance to have her. Taste her. And for the first time in my life, I was uncertain what I’d have done if she’d said no that first time when I held her against the fridge.
I was a bastard for accepting her ridiculous deal. But I’d thought if I had her, tasted her, fucked her, then my constant need would finally be sated and I could forget her.
It didn’t. My need strengthened. Insatiable. And it was dangerous.
Reading people was part of my training, their eye movements, gestures, the slightest shift in weight, and London was an open book with the pages filled with big bold writing.
The last day I’d been with her… her standing beside the table at her loft, me standing on the other side of the room having just gotten off the phone with Chaos—Georgie. I saw the realization in her eyes that this was more than some deal.
It was the end to what never had the chance to begin. But fuck, for a split second, I wanted to hold onto her and stay.
But staying was never an option. I’d already broken the cardinal rule and become too close.
I leaned forward, the black leather couch crinkling and rested my elbows on my thighs and put my head in my hands, gripping my hair.
“Shit.” This wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
Mother had wanted London ‘hurt’ as a warning to Dr. Westbrook. I said I’d look after the situation and I had, just not how she would’ve liked or expected. I hadn’t planned on what happened between us. I was simply going to scare her into remaining silent because there was no way in hell I’d do what Mother wanted.
The ties surrounding me were cruel and unbreakable, and London’s fate was already balancing on a tightrope because my gut was telling me that Mother knew what I’d done.
I came to my feet and paced the length of my study. The warning siren blared in my head getting louder and louder each day I stayed away. It was the same feeling I had when the fire went down in that shitty house London lived in with her friends.
I’d been on my way back to the airport after checking on Dr. Westbrook’s progress on the drug and then spending a few hours watching London as she studied in the library. I’d followed her home and waited until I saw her light turn off in her bedroom before I drove off. Maybe it was purely instinct, maybe it was my obsession getting stronger. Whatever it was, I turned the car around twenty minutes later and went back.
The entire way I was convinced it would be the last time. I’d say goodbye. I’d stop coming to see her. But when I was a few miles away and saw the smoke, I knew. In my fuckin’ gut, I knew it was her house and for the first time since I was a kid, my heart raced so fast it hurt.
I drove like a maniac.
I swore and cursed.
I didn’t stop when I pulled up to the house. I drove right through the back fence and used the hood of my car to reach the ledge of her window and pull myself up to where her room was located. I heard the fire trucks screaming as they drew closer, but the crackle of the fire roared in my head much louder. I wrapped my hand in my shirt then smashed my fist right through her window.
I climbed inside, the jagged pieces of glass cutting into my arms, chest and thighs. For a minute, I couldn’t see a fuckin’ thing as I was engulfed by smoke and heat. But I didn’t have to see or go far when my foot hit the body. I crouched. The smoke wasn’t as thick lower down and that was when I saw her. It was the first fuckin’ time I cared if someone lived or died.
