I bridge the gap between us again, my mouth crashing onto hers as the rhythm turns violent, desperate. I realize I’m not just inside her body, I’m sinking into her soul.
The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the ragged, synchronized gasps of our breathing. I collapse into her, my weight anchoring us to the solid oak.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of salt, heat, and the faint metallic tang of the blood still drying on my skin.
My heart thunders against her ribs. A violent, erratic rhythm that I can no longer distinguish from her own. For a long, heavy minute, we stay exactly like that, two shattered pieces of a puzzle finally forced together.
I don't pull away. I want her to feel the crushing reality of my presence, the permanent mark I’ve just branded into her sanctuary. I want the fibers of this desk to remember the way she broke underneath me, so she can never sit here again without the feeling of this friction haunting her skin.
Slowly, I lift my head. My hair is damp, clinging to my forehead, and my vision is still hazy from the sheer force of the release. I search her eyes in the gloom. They are wide, the pupils still blown out, reflecting a mixture of shock and a dark, newfound clarity. She looks wrecked, absolute devastation.
I reach out, my thumb grazing her temple to wipe away a stray bead of sweat. The power dynamic has shifted again; thepredator has caught the prey, but in the process, the prey has become the only thing keeping the predator alive.
She doesn’t answer with words, but her fingers tighten on my shoulders, her nails still biting into my flesh as if she’s afraid that if she lets go, she’ll fall into the abyss alone.
I press a final, lingering kiss to her forehead, a gesture surprisingly tender for a man who just tore her world apart.
The sound of the ringtone is like a gunshot in the silent office. I feel Madeline stiffen instantly, her body turning to ice beneath mine. I pull back just enough to see her eyes. The haze of pleasure and surrender evaporates in a heartbeat, replaced by a sharp, panicked lucidity. She scrambles for her phone, which is buried under a pile of displaced files on the edge of the desk.
The caller ID flashes: LUCY.
My fucking God. If this brat interrupts me again, I swear I will…
CHAPTER 15 - Madeline
The phone doesn't just ring; it screams. It’s a violent intrusion from the world of daylight and safety, and for a split second, I want to hurl it against the wall just to make the noise stop.
I reach out, my fingers trembling as I pick up the device. My eyes stay locked on Deimos. He doesn't move. He stands there like a dark, silent monument to everything I’m supposed to hate, watching the way my breath hitches when I see the caller ID. Lucy.
I slide the button to answer. I try to pull my torn scrubs over my chest, a frantic, useless instinct to hide the marks he just left, even though she’s miles away.
ME:"Lucy?"
I whisper. My voice is thin, a fragile thread that threatens to snap.
LUCY:"Mali? Oh thank God,"
Lucy’s voice crackles through the speaker, thick with a relief that makes my chest ache.
LUCY:"I’m sorry I didn't pick up before. I was... I was just so angry, Mali. And scared. I’ve been sitting in the ambulance bay for two hours just staring at the wall."
I close my eyes, leaning my forehead against Deimos’s chest because I can’t support my own weight anymore. I can feel the steady, terrifyingly calm thrum of his heart through his shirt. It’s the only thing keeping me grounded, even as it’s the thing that should be driving me away.
ME:"I know, Lu. I’m sorry too," I say, my voice straining to sound normal, to sound like the Madeline who still has a best friend.
ME:"It’s been a long night. I’m just... wrapping things up at the facility."
LUCY:"I’ve been thinking about what you said. About Jake. About the masquerade. Mali, if he’s 'protecting' you, why is he making you lie to the police? That’s not protection. That’s a cage. He's isolating you."
I flinch. The word cage vibrates in the air. I look up, meeting Deimos’s amber eyes. He’s listening to every word, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a possessiveness that makes my blood run hot and cold at the same time. He knows she’s right. And he knows I can’t leave.
LUCY:"Mali..."
Lucy’s voice drops, losing its aggressive edge. It sounds weary now, weighed down by months of watching me hide bruises behind concealer and long sleeves.
LUCY:"I knew Jake. I saw what he was. I saw the way he’d turn into a different person the second the door closed. Part of me... God help me, part of me is glad he can never touch you again. He deserved to stop breathing the first time he put his hands on you."
A shudder ripples through me. I feel Deimos’s grip tighten on my waist, his knuckles brushing against my skin as if he’s absorbing the memory of my pain.
