Page 139 of The Devil's Thorn
Each place he names, he traces gently with the tip of my dagger. Like it’s a lover’s touch.
“I used to think I was lucky,” he murmurs, “walking away from all of it. But lately, I’ve been wondering…”
He looks at me then, gaze locked with mine, and I feel something in my chest twist. “What if it’s not luck? What if death is just waiting for the right moment?”
The room feels smaller. Thicker. My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “And what would that moment look like, Rafael?”
He watches me for a beat longer, then flips the dagger in his hand again and finally presses the hilt into my palm.
I curl my fingers around it, gripping it tighter than I need to.
He leans forward. Close. “I think maybe I’ll know when I see it in someone’s eyes.”
I don’t blink. “And did you see it in mine?”
He lets a faint smirk tug at his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not yet.”
I sit back slowly, resting the dagger across my thigh. His gaze drops to it for a second—then to my face again.
Still circling. Still dancing on the edge of something sharp.
He stands up then, smooth and composed, and brushes a hand through his dark hair. “I have a job,” he says, shifting back into business like the past fifteen minutes didn’t just cut the air between us in half.
“A job?” I echo.
He meets my gaze again. “Colombia. Cartagena. You’ll be coming with me.”
My fingers curl tighter around the dagger. And this time… I don’t look away.
I stay seated, legs crossed, the dagger still resting against my thigh as he stands in front of me like he didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of my living room.
Colombia. Cartagena.
When?
My eyes follow him like he’s a loaded weapon with a mind of its own, never knowing if he’s going to shoot or offer me the trigger.
“So that’s it?” I ask, voice cool, sharp around the edges. “You decide something and I follow?”
He doesn’t blink. “You saved my life. This is me returning the favor.”
I narrow my eyes. “By dragging me to another continent?”
He gives me a small shrug, like the idea of dragging anyone anywhere is just business as usual. “I need someone I can trust at my side. And you’re the only one I know won’t hesitate to put a blade in my chest if I cross a line.”
“Comforting.”
He ignores the sarcasm. “We leave tomorrow. Eleven sharp.”
Of course. No time to think. No time to question. Just him, making decisions and expecting the world to move accordingly.
I shake my head once. “You could’ve told me in advance.”
His eyes flash, amused. “I just decided that you are going.”
Of course he did. Because Rafael Romanov doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. He makes them.
And I?—
