“Come for me,” she commands, her voice a low growl against my lips, and it’s all I need to tip over the edge. The release hits like a shockwave, my body shuddering as pleasure courses through me, my moans loud and unrestrained, my face a mask of ecstasy that she watches with rapt attention.
Lila doesn’t stop, guiding me through it, her movements slowing but never ceasing, drawing out every last wave of sensation until I’m spent, my body relaxing beneath her.
She eases out of me gently, her hands soothing as she helps me settle, her touch tender now, almost reverent. Sheremoves the harness, setting it aside, and lies beside me, her body curling against mine, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across my chest.
I’m still catching my breath, my body humming with the aftershocks of what we’ve shared, and I turn my head to meet her gaze, finding a softness there that contrasts with the intensity of moments ago. “You okay?” she asks, her voice quiet, her fingers pausing to rest against my heartbeat.
“More than okay,” I say, my voice hoarse but steady. “You?”
She smiles, a rare, unguarded expression that makes my chest ache. “I needed that,” she says simply, and I understand.
I understand her.
Chapter 27 - Lila
I feel more tethered to reality than I have since Detective Finch called me about Casey's body.
It's strange, given what we've just learned about Shaw's manipulation—how she's been pulling the strings of my life for nine years, orchestrating trauma and responses like I'm some kind of psychological test subject. I should feel more unmoored, more violated by the revelation that my choices haven't been entirely my own.
Instead, I feel anchored. Centered in ways that have nothing to do with the hot shower water cascading over my shoulders and everything to do with the man kneeling behind me, washing my hair with gentle precision.
Kent's hands work through the strands with the same methodical care he brought to everything else today—patient, thorough, completely focused on my needs rather than his own. The intimacy of it feels different from the explosive physical encounters we've shared before. More deliberate. More like a partnership.
"Better?" he asks, his voice carrying the kind of quiet concern that's become my anchor through the worst revelations of this nightmare.
"Getting there." I lean back against his chest, letting the warm water and his steady presence wash away the last traces of rage-fueled desperation. "Thank you. For letting me…for understanding what I needed."
His arms circle my waist, pulling me closer against him. "You don't need to thank me for that. Ever."
The simple acceptance in his voice makes my chest tight with something that might be gratitude or might be the beginning of trust I've never allowed myself to feel. Because he didn't just let me take control tonight—he actively facilitated it, understood exactly what kind of dominance I needed to reclaim my sense of agency.
He helped me transform violation into choice, helplessness into power.
"We need to talk about Shaw," I say, because the practical part of my mind won't let me exist in this peaceful moment without addressing the threats still circling our lives. "About what she's really trying to accomplish."
Kent reaches for the soap, his hands moving across my skin with clinical efficiency. "I've been thinking about that since we left Janine's. The victims she's chosen aren't random—Marcus Chen, Rebecca Martin, Casey. There's a pattern there."
I turn in his arms, studying his face through the steam. "What kind of pattern?"
"Each murder was designed to trigger a specific psychological response from you. Chen to make you question whether I was active again. Martin to escalate the pressure and force direct contact between us. Casey to create grief-induced vulnerability while increasing law enforcement scrutiny."
The analysis is clinical, precise, exactly the kind of methodical breakdown that helps transform emotional chaos into manageable information. But it also highlights the scope of Shaw's manipulation in ways that make my skin crawl despite the warm water.
"She's been orchestrating my responses like a psychological experiment," I say, the words tasting bitter."Creating controlled conditions to study how Dr. Lila North reacts when her carefully constructed identity is threatened."
"More than that." Kent's hands still against my shoulders. "She's been documenting your behavior patterns for nine years, building a comprehensive psychological profile. The copycat murders aren't just manipulation—they're the culmination of nearly a decade of research."
I step out of his embrace, needing space to process the full implications. "Research for what purpose? What does she gain from framing me as your accomplice or co-conspirator?"
Kent follows me out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my shoulders with gentle care. "I've been looking into her background since Shaw first appeared at Marcus Chen's crime scene. There are things about her history that might explain her motivations."
This is the first I'm hearing about Kent conducting his own investigation into Shaw. The fact that he's been researching her independently, building his own understanding of who we're dealing with, makes me realize how seriously he's taking the threat she represents.
"What did you find?"
We move to the bedroom, both of us unconsciously seeking the privacy and security of our most intimate space. Kent settles on the edge of the bed while I squeeze at my dripping hair with a microfiber towel.
"Dr. Evelyn Shaw, born 1991, middle child of seven siblings. Upper-middle-class family, no obvious trauma or abuse in her background. Parents still married, siblings all successful in conventional careers—doctors, lawyers, business executives."
