Because part of my brain was still spiraling so hard it felt radioactive, but another part—the awful, selfish part of me that had spent most of its life wanting somebody to choose me first—felt wrapped up in the sheer force of his protectiveness.
“If Otto Keller is William Kellerman, then he spent years around violent men who trafficked children. I am not gambling with your safety because you’re angry.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m not scared of him.”
“I am.”
The words pulled all the fight out of me so fast it left me blinking at him.
This was a man who set people on fire and walked out through the smoke. A man who buried bodies and spent nearly two decades hunting monsters in secret.
And somehow, the thing that terrified him most was the idea of something happening to me.
“You don’t understand what men like that are capable of when they feel cornered. I would rather burn the entire fucking world down than risk something happening to you because I underestimated one of them.”
Heat climbed into my throat.
“I love you,” he vowed. “And I just got you.”
My smile was wobbly. “That’s my line.”
“Say it back, Rabbit.”
“I love you too, Professor.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ll stay away from him?”
“What about my mom?”
Because suddenly every moment Otto spent near her felt poisoned.
Every smile.
Every favor.
Every time she’d trusted him enough to unlock the front door.
“She’s safe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, baby. As long as Otto doesn’t know we’ve connected him to Ashford, she’s safe. Men like him survive by blending in and appearing harmless. Drawing attention to himself now would be stupid.”
“We’re not going to warn her?”
“If we move too early and he runs, we may never find Abel.”
Waiting.
God, I was so fucking tired of waiting.
Waiting for police calls.
Waiting for leads.
Waiting for my mom to get out of bed.
Every year of my life had started to feel measured in waiting rooms and dead ends.
