Page 142 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

See that Angela’s fallen to her knees, her hands pressing to her stomach…the knife’s hilt protruding from her belly.

River stands next to her, pale and shaking.

But she’s not afraid of me.

Not even now.

Not with blood on my face and my hands squeezing the life out of Sergio and the monster out in the open.

Her eyes hold mine. Steady. Certain. Telling me to come back to her. Telling me the monster is welcome here.

That every part of me is welcome.

And loved.

She doesn’t say it aloud.

But then again, she doesn’t need to.

I see it in her eyes, feel it in my soul, know it in my heart.

I release Sergio, and Attie’s agents swarm in, taking him into custody.

Not because he deserves mercy.

Because I deserve to live the life I make, even if the monster lives inside me, even if the man is sometimes uncertain and often imperfect. Even if the path to get here was fucked-up and twisted and dark. Because…

I’m not a monster.

I’m a survivor.

River reaches me the second I stand, throwing herself into my arms and setting fire to my ribs.

Not that I give a fuck.

I just wrap myself around her and breathe her in, so damned thankful for the gifts I’ve been given.

“You came,” I rasp into her hair.

“Always,” she says back.

And there in that room of people who tried to destroy me and those who helped me turn back from the edge, I kiss her.

And she kisses me back for a long, long time.

Kisses me until Angela’s voice cuts through the room. “If you two are finished canoodling, I seem to have been shot.” A pained breath. “And stabbed.”

River jerks away from me, and we turn to Angela.

Blood seeps between her fingers.

But instead of scared, Angela looks pissed off.

Someone walks over with a med pack and begins pulling out gauze. But there’s a lot of blood and Angela’s gone pale.

Very pale.

River moves over to her, takes her hand.