Page 179 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

He groaned, low and grateful. Then worked me open carefully, one thick finger pushing inside while he kept a steady rhythm inside my pussy. The stretch burned in the best way. I rocked back against him, chasing the unfamiliar fullness. A second finger joined the first and I moaned, the sensation overwhelming.

When he finally pulled out and pressed the head of his cock against my ass, I was shaking with anticipation.

“Relax for me, baby,” he murmured, one hand stroking my back.

I breathed out and pushed back. The stretch burned, intense and full, but the pain melted into something darker, hotter. He sank in slowly, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against my ass. The feeling of him there, thick, deep, claiming that part of me, made me whimper.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaking. “So tight. So perfect.”

He started moving, careful at first, then harder when I pushed back against him. The feeling was intense, overwhelming. Every thrust sent sparks through me. Jackson reached around and rubbed my clit in tight circles, driving me higher until I came hard, clenching around him. He followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard. Eventually he pulled out carefully and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Stay here.”

He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower run briefly before the water shut off. A moment later he returned with a warm, wet towel and gently cleaned between my legs and along my thighs. The care in his touch made something tight in my chest loosen. After tossing the towel away, he slipped back into bed and pulled me into his arms, my back against his chest, one leg draped over mine.

The last few weeks had taken more out of him than he would ever admit. The fight for the pack. The weight of becoming alpha. All of it on top of everything else. Within minutes, his breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm. He was asleep.

I lay there for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart against my back.

Guilt twisted low in my stomach. He trusted me completely. And I was about to break that trust.

I eased out from under his arm carefully, sliding off the bed one inch at a time. He stirred once, brow tightening, but he didn’t wake. I waited until his breathing evened out again before I moved.

In the dim living room I braided my hair tight against my head, working quickly and efficiently. I changed into dark clothes and pulled the hood up. Then I reached for the bond and drew it in as tightly as I could, wrapping it behind every mental wall I had. I wasn’t sure it would hold once I got farther away, but it was the best I could do.

Jackson couldn’t know. Not yet. If he woke before I came back, he'd stop me.

The night air hit cold when I stepped outside. I kept my head down and walked the quiet streets first, then picked up a steady jog once the houses thinned out.

At the edge of the old forest I slowed only long enough to strip, stashing my street clothes deep in a hollow tree. The shift came easy after that. Bones reshaped. Senses sharpened. When it was done, I grabbed the kill bag between my teeth and ran.

Miles disappeared beneath my paws. Near the pack-territory wall I shifted back and started gearing up, pulling each piece from the bag with practiced efficiency.

Black layers first. Then the tac pants and soft-soled boots. I slid on the titanium gloves next and checked the weapons one by one: the hunting knife at my hip, the folding blade in my boot, the slim one strapped to my thigh. Fresh neutralizer went on my throat, wrists, the back of my neck, and the soles of my boots. Zip ties in one pocket. Capped syringes in the other. When I was done, I tucked the empty bag out of sight. I’d grab it on the way out.

I climbed the wall and slipped past the cameras and patrols I had memorized weeks ago, moving like a shadow toward Thomas’s house. It sat apart on its small rise, isolated from the rest of the compound. Two enforcers stood at the front door, bored and cold, watching the wrong direction.

I took the first from behind before he turned. The needle slid into the side of his neck and he dropped before he could make a sound. The second managed half a step before I was on him too. Both of them were left breathing. They weren’t mine to take. I dragged their limp bodies into the bushes and zip-tied their hands.

I crouched in the darkness afterward, staring at Thomas’s door.

Ten years.

Ten years of running, surviving, planning, bleeding in the dark.

I was finally standing here.

And tonight, I was going to finish it.

Chapter 49: The Final Name

I slipped inside through the back door. The lock gave under the slim tool with barely a click. I eased it shut behind me and stood still for a full ten seconds, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.

The house smelled of wood polish and old power. Stone floors. Heavy furniture. Wide hallways built to make visitors feel small. Exactly the kind of place a man like Thomas would build to remind everyone who owned the ground they walked on.

Once my eyes adjusted, I moved quietly through the dim interior.

The hallway opened into the living room. One lamp burned low on a side table, throwing just enough light across the heavy furniture. Thomas sat in a leather armchair near the fireplace with a glass of something dark in his hand. He didn’t startle when I stepped into the light. He simply lifted his head and looked at me, calm as if he had been expecting company all along.