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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Isla

The late afternoon sun slants through the live oaks lining Wheeler Street, casting dappled shadows across the cracked sidewalk as I trudge up to my apartment complex.

My satchel, heavy with graded papers and a dog-eared copy ofJane Eyre, digs into my shoulder. The weight feels grounding, a reminder that I’m trying—really trying—to stitch my life back together. Teaching today was a small victory, even if my voice shook during my lecture on Brontë’s themes of independence. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

My sneakers scuff the concrete as I climb the stairs, my legs heavy from more than just the long day. I’m still hollow, still raw from the truths that gutted me—my father’s escort ring, Lena’s ghost, Dorian’s lies, Brennan’s prison time. But I’m here, moving forward, one forced step at a time. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.

I round the corner to my apartment door and freeze.

Brennan.

He’s leaning against the wall beside my door, armscrossed, his broad frame filling the narrow hallway. His dark hair is mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. As always, I’m captivated by the scar bisecting his eyebrow and the way his stormy blue eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

He’s in a black T-shirt and jeans, not his usual tailored suit, and the casualness makes him seem more human, more vulnerable. More devastatingly handsome.

Breath vaporizes in my lungs.

But the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flex against his biceps, tells me he’s anything but relaxed.

“Brennan.” My voice is flat, betraying none of the chaos erupting inside me—relief, anger, longing, all tangled into a knot I can’t unravel.

My hands are trembling, making me fumble with my keys. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t move, just watches me, his gaze tracking every twitch of my expression. “You haven’t answered my calls. My texts.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s a crack in it, a hint of the strain I’ve caused. “I’ve tried to be patient. Give you space.” He shrugs, admitting defeat.

The motion is so honest, sohim,that I attempt a small smile. But it falls before it fully forms.

Having him here is a reminder of all that I’ve lost and everything I’m trying to recover from.

“I had to see you. Had to know you’re okay.”

“You know I’m fine.” I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder toward the black SUV that never seems to move. I know the team inside has to switch out at times, but I’ve never seen it happen.

And every time I leave the house, a sedan tails me.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

With a sigh, my movements jerky, I somehow manage to unlock the door and push it open slightly.

“Invite me in.”

My heart accelerates. That would be a recipe for disaster.

And yet…

Every part of me aches for what we used to have.

Though I hate it, my mind spins back to the first time he took me…

“You need to know you belong to us both. Equally.”

His cock was so hard, and he was ready for me, but he still offered to wait for the morning.

Then gently he feathered his lips across mine, his kiss a gentle tease that ignited my senses.

Promising to be sure I was ready, he slid a rough palm down my stomach to tease my clit.