Page 66 of Fang

I prop myself up on one elbow, studying his face in the shadows. “What about Rory? Would he have to leave too?”

Fang shakes his head, his hand finding mine in the darkness. “Rory’s welcome to stay as long as he wants. Once his treatment is complete, he’ll have options too. College, maybe. A normal life.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “The club protects its own, and that includes both of you now.”

I consider his words, the future they present. A choice—something I haven’t truly had in years. Since the cartel first pulled me into their world, my decisions have always been made under duress, with Rory’s life hanging in the balance. Now, with that pressure potentially lifting, what would I choose freely?

“I’ve spent my entire adult life living in the shadows,” I say slowly, the realization crystallizing as I speak. “I’m done living that way.”

Fang watches me intently, waiting for me to continue.

“I choose you,” I say simply. “I choose this life, complicated as it is. I choose to stay and fight rather than run and hide. The cartel took enough years from me. I won’t let them take this too.”

Something shifts in his expression—relief mingled with joy, tempered by the gravity of what I’m choosing. His hand comes up to cradle my face, eyes searching mine in the dim light.

“Are you sure? This won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is,” I reply, the certainty in my chest expanding with each breath. “Besides, you’ve seen my code. You know I don’t back down from a challenge.”

His lips quirk into the lopsided smile I’ve grown to love. “Your code is exceptional,” he agrees, his voice dropping lower. “Almost as exceptional as the woman who writes it.”

Our eyes lock in silent understanding—a contract more binding than any words could create. I’ve chosen him, chosen us, chosen this life with all its complications and dangers. Not out of necessity or fear, but out of love and the desire for a future free from the cartel.

I lean down, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens, heat building between us despite his injuries. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, holding me to him as his mouth moves against mine with increasing urgency. I taste the faintest metallic hint of blood from his split lip, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I carefully shift my weight, straddling his hips without putting pressure on his torso.

“Are you sure?” I breathe against his mouth, suddenly aware of how fragile he still is. “Your ribs—”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he replies, his hands finding the hem of my t-shirt and sliding beneath, palms warm against my skin. “Just… maybe you do most of the work this time.”

A laugh bubbles from my throat, breaking the tension as I sit up to pull my shirt over my head. The cool air raises goosebumps across my bare skin, quickly replaced by heat as Fang’s gaze travels over me with unconcealed appreciation.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, hands skimming up my sides to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing across sensitive peaks in a way that makes my breath catch.

I lean down to kiss him again, more carefully this time, mindful of his split lip. His hands continue their exploration, relearning the contours of my body as I carefully work the drawstring of his sweatpants loose. There’s something different about this time—a deliberateness, a certainty that wasn’t there before. Each touch feels like a promise, each kiss like sealing a vow.

We take our time undressing each other, movements slowed both by his injuries and by our desire to savor each moment. When I finally sink down onto him, taking him inside me with a soft gasp, his hands grip my hips with an intensity that borders on desperation. I set a gentle rhythm, rolling against him in a way that minimizes strain on his ribs while maximizing our pleasure.

“I love you,” he whispers against my collarbone, the words vibrating through my skin and settling somewhere deep in my chest. “I love you, Mina.”

The sound of my name on his lips, rough with emotion and desire, pushes me closer to the edge. I move faster, my body seeking completion even as my mind catalogs every sensation—the the hardness of his body against my softness, the catch in his breath when I change angles, the heat building between us like a gathering storm. His hands grip my waist, guiding my movements as I rise and fall above him, careful to keep my weight off his injured ribs even as desire threatens to overwhelm caution.

“Mina,” he gasps, my name a prayer on his lips as his fingers dig into my hips. His eyes hold mine, refusing to close even as his pleasure surges, as if he needs to witness every moment of our connection.

I lean down to capture his mouth with mine, swallowing his groans as our bodies move together in perfect synchronicity. The tension coils tighter in my core, a gathering wave of sensation that crests suddenly, breaking through me with such intensity that I cry out against his lips. He follows moments later, his body tensing beneath mine, his good arm pulling me tight against his chest as if afraid I might still slip away.

For long moments afterward, we remain joined, my forehead pressed to his, our breathing gradually slowing in tandem. His hand traces up and down my spine, sending pleasant aftershocks through my sensitized skin.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, suddenly aware of his injuries again now that the haze of desire is fading. “Did I hurt you?”

He smiles, the expression transforming his battered face. “Worth every twinge,” he assures me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with unexpected tenderness.

I carefully shift to lay beside him, nestling into the crook of his uninjured arm, my hand coming to rest over his heart. Its steady rhythm beneath my palm grounds me in this moment, in this choice I’ve made to stay.

“It’s different now,” I say softly, tracing the outline of a bandage on his chest.

“What is?”

“This. Us.” I struggle to articulate the shift I feel. “Before, it felt like borrowed time. Like I was just waiting for everything to fall apart, for the cartel to find us, for Rory to get worse…” I tilt my head to meet his eyes. “But now it feels like we’re building something. Like we have a future.”

His fingers trail down my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “We do have a future,” he confirms, his voice low and certain. “Whatever you want it to look like.”

---