Page 70 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

“They paid for that mistake with their lives,” I say. “And I… I did the same damn thing today, Ecco. I got distracted by you, by us, and I let my guard down. The stalker almost got to you because ofme. You almost got hurt because ofme.”

There it is, the ugly truth laid bare.

I risked the most precious thing in my world because I was too weak to keep my head in the game.

Too weak to resist the beauty of her smile, her touch.

I’m torn between the burning need to hold her close and never let go and the icy certainty that I’ll only end up hurting her in the end. That my love will be the death of her, just like it was for my parents.

Ecco’s fingers tighten around mine. My eyes flick up to meet hers and the passion I see there steals my breath.

“Okay,” she says softly. “This is not on you, Graeme. I was the one who took us out to brunch. I was the one who encouraged you to drink. I know I haven’t been taking this seriously enough, and that’s been making your job harder. I’ll be more cautious from now on, I promise.”

She leans in, her face mere inches from mine, and the whole world narrows down to the intention blazing in her violet eyes.

“Until the stalker is caught, I’ll follow your lead, Graeme. Your plans, your rules.”

I swallow hard, my heart swelling with both gratitude and terror. She’s putting her life in my hands, trusting me to keep her safe when I’ve already failed her once. The weight of that responsibility settles on my shoulders like a mountain, but I’ll gladly carry it for her.

“Good,” I rasp out, my voice scraped raw with emotion. “Because if anything happens to you, Ecco...”

The words lodge in my throat, too painful to voice. I can’t even finish the thought, can’t let myself imagine a world without her vibrant light in it.

She nods, her eyes shimmering with a quiet strength that takes my breath away. And in that moment, it hits me like a thunderbolt—the undeniable truth that’s been slowly taking root in my heart since the day we met.

I’m falling in love with her.

No, that’s not right.

I’malreadyin love with her, so deep and true that it’s like she’s carved out a space inside my very soul. My body hums with the certainty of it, like a tuning fork struck against my ribcage.

This gorgeous, maddening siren is the love of my life.

Our hands stay locked together as we sit in the hushed quiet of the cafe, the rest of the world fading away. Our pulses seem to sync, our hearts beating out a promise that neither of us is quite ready to put into words.

Not yet. But soon.

“We’ll find the stalker,” I vow, my mind already racing through the scant clues we’ve gathered. “And I won’t let them lay a finger on you, Ecco. I’d die before I let that happen.”

Her breath hitches, but she nods, her jaw set with that stubborn attitude I’ve come to adore.

Ecco and I spend a few minutes going over the stalker’s appearances, hoping that talking it through aloud might help uncover a missed clue. A nagging thought tugs at the edges of my mind. There’s something about the stalker’s scent specifically that’s been bothering me.

“I can’t seem to get that out of my nose,” I say slowly, my voice low and pensive. “That smell. It’s so familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

Ecco leans forward. “Describe it to me. I don’t have the enhanced senses that you do—I’ve barely caught a hint of it.”

I take a deep breath, my eyes drifting shut as I try to isolate the different notes of the scent.

“It’s sweet,” I say finally. “Like spun sugar, the kind you find at a carnival or a fair. But there’s something else too,” I continue, my brow furrowing as I try to put my finger on it. “Something that cuts through the sweetness, as if the sugar is melting, or burning.”

My eyes snap open, locking with Ecco’s. “Melting candles,” I say, my voice low and urgent. “It’s spun sugar mixed with melting wax, like a hundred birthday candles burning down and down.”

Ecco’s eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth as a gasp escapes her lips. The color drains from her face.

“Wait,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I know who the stalker is.”

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