Page 77 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

What the hell was I thinking?

Telling Luna. Of all people.

To Sophie, I’m just an undercover FBI agent. To Scar, all my kills are bureau-sanctioned. Hawkins knows I do twisted shit on my own time, but as long as the reports match the assignment, he’s never made it his business. Sophie’s father, Phoenix, knows about the kill list—but only the basics.

No one—not a single fucking soul—knows the way I study my targets. How I slide into their routines until I know them better than they know themselves.

No one’s ever watched me exact revenge.

No one, except Luna.

I could blame it on her being nosy, but I know better. It was the way she looked at me when she said she wanted to come with me.

Theway she cried last night. For me. Those quiet, smothered sobs that hit my bloodstream like pure heroin, flooding me with a high I couldn’t shake. No sound has ever unmade me like that. Not for the past twenty-two years.

Saint felt it too. He wouldn’t settle until her crying stopped. Neither would I.

That’s why I ended up in her room, sitting in the shadows, watching her sleep.

It wasn’t lust. Lust is too simple—easily satisfied and forgotten. This was something more tangible. Something like possession.

Luna belongs to me.

I knew it when she clung to me and orgasmed while surrounded by death, perfectly shameless, wearing her confidence like armor. She’s too comfortable around me—as if she doesn’t know what kind of monster I am. Or worse, she knows and doesn’t care.

So I let her see who I really am. Like everything else, she took it in stride—until now.

Now she’s reeling. Two hours of silence confirm this. Her eyes are fixed on the passing landscape through her window, arms crossed tight. Even when I stopped for food, she only wanted a burger, which she ate without sparing me a glance.

Hell, she’ll give herself a stiff neck if she carries this on much longer.

I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head, plotting escape routes that no longer exist. I gave her chances to run, but she kept choosing to stay, and now, choice has become irrelevant.

Now she’s staying with me, whether she likes it or not.

The truth is, she deserves better than what a dead man walking can offer. The bureau will put me down like the rabid dog Iam once I’ve outlived my usefulness. Scar sees it coming too—that day when my sins finally catch up to me. I can feel it breathing down my neck, a countdown I can’t escape.

But until then? She’s mine to keep. Mine to corrupt. Mine to destroy.

The air in the truck shifts, drawing my attention to her profile. She’s finally stopped staring out the window—thank God. Now her fingers are lazily combing through her glossy dark hair—slow, deliberate movements that speak of leashed control. Everything about her screams precision, even in crisis.

Her thoughts fill the space between us, like storm clouds ready to break. Any second now, she’ll say—”

“Are you ever going to say something?” Right on cue, her voice cuts through the silence like a knife. “You could, you know. Ask how I’m feeling. You dropped a fucking hailstorm on me, and now you’re just sitting there relishing the chaos like an evil genius.”

The accusation in her voice hits like a caress. Even terrified, she comes out swinging.

I glance at her again. No tremors, no nervous ticks. Just precise, controlled movements that could almost pass for boredom.

This . . . This is new territory for me. Dangerous territory. Decades of reading people, almost discerning their thoughts—it’s kept me breathing this long.

But Luna is like a black hole dressed in designer jeans, swallowing every tell before I can catch it. It’s fucking fascinating and terrifying.

“What are you feeling right now?” The question slips out like a probe, searching for a reaction.

She scoffs and turns back to the window. “I thought someone with yourexpertisewould be better at reading the room.”

“You’d think so.” I muse, savoring the tension finally seeping into her voice. There’s my opening. “What is it you want, princess? Reassurance that you can trust me? Or that no one in your family is on my list?”

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