Page 160 of Desperate Crimes
But not her.
Leanna Fury stayed and she fills the role each day like a fucking sunrise—glorious, righteous, and holy.
Even after the fear.
After the chaos.The secrets.
Even after the part of me that’s too much for most people revealed itself fully, completely.
She stayed.
And every damn day she chooses me again.
That should scare me.
But all it does is root this obsession deeper into my bones.
Because how can I not be obsessed with the woman who sees every twisted, brutal, dark part of me and still chooses to lay her heart in my hands?
How can I not worship her when she trusts me like this?
Trusts me to know what to do.To protect her.To satisfy her.To love her in all the ways no one else ever could.
And the way she’s resting now—her breath slow, steady, her fingers tracing lazy, mindless patterns against my chest like she doesn’t even realize she’s tattooing herself onto my skin?
It ruins me.
Because there’s softness in her.
Warmth.Beauty.And it doesn’t weaken her—not even close.
It’s strength wrapped in velvet.
Steel beneath silk.
That same softness carved out a space in the middle of my storm and made me kneel.
No one’s ever done that before.
Not for real.
But Leanna?
She didn’t have to try.She just existed.She just was.
A girl who wore chaos like a perfume and wrapped it in rosewater.
A daughter of titans.A creature of black roses and blazing fire.
My Persephone.
My reason.
My ruin.
And I would kill for her.
Burn down everything for her.
