Page 192 of What We Burn

“I’m sorry,” I gasp against Knox. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry⁠—”

“I know.” Eli’s hand slides up my spine and fists in my hair, pulling me upright, arching me back against his chest. The new angle drives him deeper and I sob with it. His other arm bands across my collarbones, holding me to him, and his mouth finds the shell of my ear. “You want to kill? Fine. But you do it with us. You do it where we can watch you come home safe.”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Knox lifts my torso, his hands framing my face before he kisses me—deep, slow, filthy—while Eli fucks me like he’s trying to leave fingerprints on my soul. Between the two of them there’s nowhere to go, nothing to hold on to, nothing to be except theirs. The collar sits snug at my throat. The cuffs bite my wrists. Even my heels pinch at my toes. Every mark on my body is a signature, and I’ve never felt more like myself.

“Come for us, Fury,” Knox says against my mouth. “Give it to him.”

Knox’s hand drops between my legs, and that’s it—that’s the end of me. The orgasm tears through like the knife tore through Stine, like every swallowed scream finally finding its exit, and I come sobbing, shaking, held together only by their hands and the collar and the chain of us that no amount of running could ever break.

Eli follows with my name ground out against my neck, his whole body wrapped around mine, and for a long moment the three of us just breathe.

The static is gone.

We stay like that. Three bodies, wrecked, breathing.

Knox undoes the cuffs first. Careful, patient, his big fingers working the buckles while the blood rushes back into my hands with a tingling burn. Then the leash, unhooked from the collar, coiled and set aside. The collar stays. Nobody reaches for it.

Eli pulls out slowly and I make a sound I’d be embarrassed about if I had any dignity remaining. Heat spills between my legs, dripping onto the padded bench.

Knox disappears and returns with a warm cloth, water, and a blanket. Eli takes the cloth from him and cleans me, wiping away the mess and telling me how well I did.

When he’s finished, he fixes my dress and gathers me into his lap. I curl into him, face pressed into his neck, hands fisted in his open shirt. He smells like sweat, sex, and the clean bite of his cologne, and I breathe him in until my pulse begins to settle.

Knox wraps the blanket around my shoulders, removes my heels, and sets them beside the bench. Then he holds the water to my lips until I drink before sitting on the floor beside us, his back against the bench and one hand resting on my bare foot.

Nobody speaks for a long time. The sounds of the club are a distant murmur beyond the walls—bass and breath and the faint, rhythmic evidence of other people’s pleasure. In here, it’s just us. Heartbeats and silence and the particular kind of peace that only exists after everything has been stripped away and what’s left is still standing.

“I’m keeping the collar,” I say eventually. My voice is raw. Destroyed.

Eli’s chest vibrates under my cheek. Almost a laugh. “It suits you.”

“And next time there’s a kill, I’m there. Not as backup. Not because somebody drew the short straw. I’m part of the plan, and we do it together. Like you said.”

Knox squeezes my foot. “We know, Fury.”

“And I want my own locker at this club. With my name on it. And a hook for the leash.”

“Don’t push it,” Eli says, but his arms tighten around me.

“I need to be a Hangman,” I whisper.

Eli presses a lingering kiss against my forehead. “You already are.”

FIFTY

HOLDEN

When I step toward the brushed-steel doors at the end of the VIP corridor, one of Odin’s security men is already waiting. He doesn’t greet me or ask me why I’m here. He just puts a black keycard in my hand and steps aside, leaving me with the kind of access most of the club’s employees don’t know exists.

Milo is still alone at the motel in a room with a wrapped corpse, three liters of cleaning chemicals, and enough blood evidence to give an entire forensic department a collective orgasm. Dean McMahon—the undertaker Eli brought into the fold—and two cleaners are already on their way.

But Odin told me to meet him upstairs first.

I swipe the card.

The elevator opens without a sound.