Page 124 of Desperate Crimes

---

“That man loves you. He looks at you like I’ve never seen him look at anyone else. Not in all his life.”

Her words hit me like a blow.

Because I want to believe them.

I want to believe in him.

But right now, all I feel is the weight in my chest. A dull, thunderous ache I can’t shake.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fury,” I manage, voice tight. “I appreciate that.”

I step back.

“I just think I need some space,” I whisper. “I need to breathe.”

They nod. Quietly.

No judgment. Just sadness.

And love.

But I still walk away.

Down another hallway, out toward an empty section of the huge wraparound patio, where the night is just starting to fall.

Where I can be alone with my doubts, my foolish heart, and the sick fear that maybe I was never his the way he said.

Maybe he was never really my Hades. And maybe I’m not his Persephone.

Just a pawn on someone else’s board.

---