“Oh?” I raised a brow. “Should I be afraid?”
She hesitated for half a second—then blurted it out. “Dexter.”
I stared at her.
“Dexter?”
Her cheeks went pink instantly. “Yes. Stop looking at me like that.”
I didn’t move. Just watched her.
She hid her face in her hands for a heartbeat, then peeked out, embarrassed. “I swear I didn’t realize how completely unhinged that sounds until I said it out loud.”
I let the grin come slow and sharp. “Malaya.”
She swallowed. “What?”
I leaned in, mouth grazing her ear, voice dropping low. “I fucking love unhinged.”
We laughed and stole lazy kisses between sips, her wine staining her lips, my vodka burning my throat. For once the violence stayed outside the door. This—her, us, tangled and easy—felt dangerously close to peace.
She thought I was joking.
But I meant it.
I wanted to take her on a date. I never thought I’d ever want something like that, not in this life—not with who I was—but with her, I did. I wanted to see her laugh in daylight. To hold her hand in public. To make her feel spoiled and wanted in the simplest ways. I wanted to be normal. For her.
I was tired of sneaking around like we were doing something dirty. Tired of keeping her in the shadows when all I wanted was to drag her into my light—if I had any left.
One day, I would do it.
After I killed her father.
If she ever forgave me for that.
The next week was hell.
I wasn’t used to waiting. I didn’tdowaiting. Every hour that passed without word from Rothman made my skin crawl. I barely slept. Barely ate. Every time my phone buzzed, my pulse went wild. Every time itwasn’thim, I wanted to smash the screen to pieces.
I needed to keep moving. Do something. Anything.
So I did the one thing I promised her.
I meant it when I told Kira that I’d find her mother. I hadn’t forgotten. I never forget shit like that. Not when it matters. And especially not when it’s about her.
Rothman’s silence was eating me alive, but I couldn’t sit there staring at the goddamn wall, waiting for news about Mila that might never come.
So I tracked her down.
Didn’t take long. Her mother was locked up in one of those high-end clinics—private, polished, and quiet as the fucking grave. The kind of place where money bought silence, not healing. Where they didn’t care if the pills made you a ghost, so long as the bills kept clearing.
But before I brought Kira anywhere near it, I had to see for myself. Had to know if what waited for her there would destroy her.
Because Kira remembered a mother who drifted but still smiled. A woman numbed by meds but still there somewhere. And if what I found behind those locked doors was just a shell—if the bastard had broken her completely—I needed to find a way to soften the blow. Or maybe burn the whole place down.
Either way, I wasn’t letting her walk into that alone.
So I went first and told no one.
