Page 67 of Twisted Devotion

“I could deal with them myself,” I mutter under my breath, and Jackson touches the small of my back where no one else can see. I press my lips together, not having heard him move closer to me but oddly comforted by his nearness.

“We’ll monitor the area while you’re there,” Tristan continues. “That way, once something happens—ifsomething happens—we’ll be around to track you to wherever they take you.”

“Fine,” I say.

“Do you have any questions?” Nikolai asks.

“It’s a lot you’ve just dumped on her,” Allison says, speaking for the first time since arriving. “Give the girl some time.”

Tristan nods. “Of course. We’ll start tomorrow?”

I nod without adding anything more. At this point, there’s nothing left to say.

Once the living room clears out, I fall back onto one of the couches and lean back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling.

Seth drops onto the couch beside me and leans in. “Are you okay?”

I turn my head to look at him. “I can’t lie, so I’m not going to answer that.”

He frowns. “It’s going to be okay, Kelsey. I know it doesn’t feel that way now, but I promise. You have a lot of people who care about you here. They will take care of this, and you. Always.”

“Do you really think this plan is going to work?” I ask him.

He sighs. “I don’t know, but if you don’t want to wait for the police to try to catch these men, I think what Tristan explained is our best bet.”

“Yeah,” I say, stretching my legs out and propping them on the coffee table. “I barely got to know Kyle as an adult, but I already miss him.”

“I know,” Seth says, reaching for my hand. “Once this is all over, we’ll make sure you are able to say goodbye properly.”

Tears sting my eyes. “Thank you. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Even though I’m human now?” he asks with a grin.

I lean into his side, resting my head against his shoulder, and then I wrap my other arm around his. “You’re my best friend and you’re here. That’s the only thing that matters to me now.”

After Skylar steps into my place as Jackson’s guard, I sit in the café every day for hours. For a week straight. At the same time each day to establish a clear routine. I order the same latte that I never finish, and bring my laptop to make it look like I’m working. It’s an odd reality, being upset each time I leave that I wasn’t ambushed or kidnapped. But sitting on my ass every day, while the people who killed Kyle are still out there doing god knows what, is driving me insane. I can’t keep this up much longer. The desire to take action is making me antsy.

Nikolai advises me to take the weekend off or it will look like the setup it is. No one works seven days a week from the same café, at least not typically, and we don’t want to tip them off if they’ve been watching me.

I spend the next two days either at the hotel with Seth or training at the warehouse.

I’m grateful for the distance from Jackson. Things with him were getting complicated very fast, and this time away should help me clear my head and figure things out.

Kicking off my running shoes, I walk across the mats and grab the fifty-pound barbell and stand in front of the mirror. I deadlift the weight until my knees are burning and my forehead is damp with sweat, then I set it on the mat and head for the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Glancing at my fists, I shrug, opting to take a few swings without gloves.

A few minutes in, I’m gritting my teeth and grunting angrily as my fists connect with the solid bag, moving it with each hit. I picture the faceless men who took everything from me and throw everything I have into smashing the bag. My knuckles sting and my wrists start to ache, but I don’t stop. I’m in the zone. So much so, I don’t hear the double doors on the far side of the room open and slam shut.

“Easy, Red. What’d that punching bag ever do to you?” Jackson flashes a grin as he approaches, and my heart races in response—any faster and I might stroke out over here.

I drop my arms and grab my water bottle from the floor, chugging a bunch before tossing it to the side. My chest is still heaving, making it hard to speak, but I force out, “What are you doing here?”

“Skylar wanted to train, so I tagged along.”

I arch a brow. “Where is she?”

He glances over his shoulder. “She said something about running laps around the track outside to warm up.”

I press my lips together against a smile. “I see.”

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