Page 150 of The Contract

He brushes past me dismissively.

Like a masochist with a fucking death wish, I snag his sleeve, yanking him to a stop.

He freezes, voice lethally soft. “What?”

When I meet his eyes—a blank canvas of frostbitten steel—I simply hold out my hand.

He cocks his head, mocking. “I only pay for sex.”

“With charm like yours? Shocker.” I flex my fingers impatiently. “My knife.”

His gaze flicks to the blade still clenched in his grip.

“I’ve grown attached. I’m keeping it.” With a slick metallic click, he retracts it. Flips it once with ruthless ease. “Consider it payment for your lesson.”

“What lesson?”

His smile is pure predator, slow, razor-edged, utterly merciless.

“You’re not the hunter, Pom. You’re the fucking meal. Mine.”

CHAPTER 51

Dante

I need fucking air.

I shove outside, lungs scorched, suffocating inside my own skin—skin so goddamn tight I’m seconds from shredding it off with my bare hands.

I took her.

Then I destroyed her.

And when I did, the last twisted scrap of whatever heart I had left vanished into smoke. But what the fuck else could I do?

Throwing myself on a live grenade is one thing.

I will not drag Riley with me.

And letting Andre put his hands on her? I’d burn the city to the fucking ground first.

And the blood?

It’s back—hot, slick, dripping off my hands. I know it’s not real, but it feels real. Smells real. My mind’s favorite goddamn nightmare.

But hers?

That blood between her thighs, staining my heart, branding my fucking soul—that was real.

Now Pom knows monsters really do exist.

Our purpose in life? To punish joy and feast on innocence.

I close my eyes, forcing myself into those bullshit calming breaths Trinity and psycho Enzo swear actually work. Maybe if I breathe deep enough, the blood will fade.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

---