Page 12 of Devil’s Torture

I look down at the addresses and nervousness fills my belly. I thought I couldn’t get nervous anymore.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Now all I have to do is go and find my woman and remind her why she’s always been mine. Ten years doesn’t erase that; nothing ever will.

I just hope I haven’t missed too much and that she’ll give me a chance to make it right.

CHAPTER 3

BEXLEY

When I step outside my office building, the light is too bright for a moment. It warms my face, even in fall, and I soak in the feeling for one fleeting moment. It’s not often that I get a little moment just for me. A moment when I’m not an employee.

A moment when I’m not a mom.

As I open my eyes and turn toward the parking lot, my body, mind, and soul come to a complete standstill. Because Miller is standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed across his chest and his feet apart like he’s bracing for a fight. No, not Miller.

There’s something harder in this man’s face. Something darker.

It has nothing to do with time.

Rune.

I take him in slowly because time, clearly, has decided to stand still for such a momentous moment. His shoulders are broader and he’s even more muscular now than he was back then. He’s grown into himself. There’s a slight crook to his nose which wasn’t there before.

His jaw is covered in stubble, and his blue eyes are sharper. The way his gaze moves over me has my body doing something it hasn’t done in so fucking long—light up.

I ignore the feeling because right alongside a desire that I’ve only ever felt around him is a fury borne of ten years of silence.

“Bex,” his voice is rough.

It’s also achingly familiar. I hate how much a part of my soul loves hearing it again. I’ve missed it for ten years.

I’ve missed him for ten years.

My throat feels like it’s clogged as my breathing starts to shorten the longer I stare at him. He looks the same and so fucking different.

When he takes a step towards me, I hold a hand up and his eyes widen slightly. I don’t know why but seeing surprise on his face only pisses me off more.

My lip curls up in a disgusted snarl and my words come out harsh, “What? Did you really think that after ten years of no contact, where I had no idea if you were even alive, that I’d run straight into your arms?” I scoff and shake my head slowly, “This isn’t a rom-com.”

“I earned that,” he admits.

“You earned a whole lot more than that,” I spit out the words.

“You’re right,” he takes a step closer, and my hands fall to my sides. Not because I want him closer. Not because I want him to wrap his arms around me.

If he steps any closer to me, I might just lose my shit. I’m not processing this moment very well. I want to scream at him.

But I’m also right outside my job.

Holy shit.

He’s standing in front of me.

Tears well up in my eyes, partially from the pure fucking emotion of it all and even more of it from fury.

“I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now.” My words are not tinged with awe.