Page 74 of Protected

She’s been actively working against me and everyone I love while pretending to be one of us.

If anyone needs to die, it’s her.

But my hand shakes. And I see her. Iseeher.

She’s scared now more than angry. She’s a human being who was cornered into a terrible position by a world that rarely shows mercy. Just like I was. She made bad decisions because of it, but in a different situation maybe I would have too.

My hand keeps shaking. Everything inside me keeps shaking.

“Lilah.” The voice comes from behind me. Cool. Quietly authoritative. Logan.

“I can do it,” I choke out. “She was working with them. She betrayed us.”

“I know that. I know that now.”

I try to summon all my will and fortitude into thesimple act of pulling the trigger. My whole body is trembling with the effort.

Logan draws closer until he’s standing right beside me. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

“I can do it,” I say again.

“I know you can, sweetheart.” The gentleness in his voice surprises me more than the endearment. His expression is ice-cold when I look up. “But she was one of us.”

He carefully helps me rise to my feet. I sway slightly but don’t fall.

“You don’t have to carry that,” Logan tells me before he leans over and hauls Trisha up to her feet. “I do.”

I stare, dazed and stunned and shatteringly relieved that this will get done but that I don’t have to be the one to do it. Logan walks Trisha away until they’re out of sight behind the corner of the church. There’s a single gunshot—just like there was months ago after Pete tried to rape me.

When Logan reappears, there’s blood spattered on one of his cheeks. I can see it in the flickering light of the bonfire nearby.

He meets my eyes. I silently mouth, “Thank you.” He nods and turns away, giving some instructions about cleaning up the dead bodies.

I turn back to Deck, who has been standing nearby all this time.

When we look at each other, we both understand.

One of the open questions between us is settled for good.

Because I’m never going to leave Logan either.

26

A week later,I’m leaning over Deck with a pair of scissors I borrowed from Burgundy. His eyes are on me as I carefully trim the coarse brown hairs of his beard.

He’s seated on a small bed, and when he shifts slightly, the springs creak. I step back. “If you keep moving, you’re going to get an eye poked out.” I try for a disapproving expression, but I’m in much too fond a mood at the moment to manage it successfully.

Deck grows still except for his eyes.

“And stop staring at my tits,” I add since his gaze has slipped lower to the neckline of the worn tank top I’m wearing. “I’m trying to work here.”

His mouth twitching just slightly, he uses both hands to make a gesture like he’s squeezing invisible boobs and then shifts to two thumbs-up signs.

I dissolve into giggles and can’t resist the urge to wrapmy arms around his neck in a quick hug, being careful with the scissors I still hold.

He hugs me back, but when his hug starts transforming into something else, I step back with a shake of my head. “Nope. Haircut first. Sex later.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh and straightens up again, holding still so I can return to trimming his beard.

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