Page 85 of Her Nightshade

I sat up straighter, searching his face for doubt. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it on my own?” I asked, a flicker of uncertainty passing through me.

His dimpled smile melted the tension from my chest. “I never doubted you. I just hope you know it, too,” he said, his voice low and full of reassurance.

I felt my breath catch as his words sank in.

“You’ve not only saved yourself, Ana,” he continued, his fingers brushing over mine. “You’ve saved me. I was so fucking lost until I found you. This life—the fans, the music, all of it—it’s nothing without you. I was so alone before, and now…” He paused, his eyes locking with mine. “Now I know I’ll never be lonely again.”

His words settled over me like a blanket, heavy and warm. I held his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, the truth in every syllable he had spoken.

As I leaned back into the cushions, my thoughts began to spin, pulling me into the depths of everything that had brought us to this moment. Everything we’d done together,foreach other, weighed against my chest, each memory surfacing like a ghost. The lies we told, the fights we endured, the manipulation and the desperate choices made in moments of panic, jealousy, and desire.

It wasn’t a soft, gentle love story we had. It burned, bright and all-consuming. A fire that we couldn’t escape, even if we wanted to.

And I’d known that from the beginning. I’d known we’d get burned.

I’d told myself when it all started, when his obsession first started pulling me in: I was playing with fire. And I was right. We’d both been scorched by this, scarred by it.

But as I sat there, his hand in mine and his eyes locked on me like I was the only thing that mattered, I realized something else.

I liked the burn.

I pressed my lips to his, the kiss slow but full of the fire that had always burned between us. When we pulled away, I smiled.

“I love you,” I said.

“And I love you,mi diosa,” he said, his grin matching mine.

As the moment stretched on, I knew one thing for certain: we’d gone to the edge and back for each other. We bled for each other. Lied for each other. Burned for each other.

And I’d do it all again.

Not because it was right, but because his love made me feel untouchable. And mine brought him to his knees.

Together, we weren’t just in love. We were lethal, a force that devoured everything in its path…including ourselves.

30

Charlie

Callan drove the boat deep into the Eastern Bay, seemingly miles from civilization, until the lights from town were just faint twinkles, like the stars above us. In the silence, I had too much time to think. I couldn’t stop replaying the fact that I had just killed a man. Not just any man—the former President of the United States.

Callan had assured me we’d cover everything up perfectly, but I was still anxious with the unknown. What if Callan turned on me? What if he threw me under the bus, just as I had planned to do with him?

But then it hit me—he was just as deep in this as I was. He was the one who came up with the plan to wrap Jake’s body in plastic, anchor it with bricks, and drive out into the sea. Like a real-life fuckingDexter.

The boat suddenly came to a stop, and Callan shot up, moving to the front of the small vessel. He turned back to me. “You helping me or what?”

I stood, grabbing Jake’s feet as Callan stepped over the body, gripping beneath Jake’s arms. Together, we lifted him and hurled him overboard. The body disappeared into the black water below, swallowed whole by the night.

Callan sat back into the driver’s seat, starting the engine again. “I’ll go back to the house to clean up. You head back to D.C.,” he instructed.

I sat in the passenger seat beside him as we began to move. “I can help, you know. Clean up the fucking mess I made,” I offered, though the exhaustion in my voice betrayed me, and even though I wanted to get back to Ana as soon as possible, I knew I needed to help.

Callan glanced at me, his tone softening. “You know, I would’ve done the same. If someone said that shit about my girl.”

My eyebrows shot up. “So you and I are more alike than I thought,” I said with a smirk.

“Nah,” Callan said, shaking his head. “We’re just men who’d do anything for the women we love. I guess it’s not so bad that you’re fucking crazy. Otherwise, you’re right…the audio wouldn’t have been enough.” His gaze stayed fixed ahead, a small smirk rising on his lips.

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