Page 202 of His To Erase
I grip the edge of the counter, hard enough to make the wood groan. She went to him?
No.There’s no fucking way.
She wouldn’t—but the silence on the line says everything I need to know. Of course she fucking did.
She ran straight to the devil the second she felt cornered. Right into the arms of the man I’ve been trying to bury for years.
I told her. I fucking told her not to leave. Not to trust anyone. Especially not him. I’d practically been screaming it at her.
I shove back from the counter, the chair clattering to the floor behind me and my vision narrows.
Me: Where?
Travis: Jet landed in Taos about ten min ago.
A bitter laugh escapes my throat, sharp and violent. I dig my knuckles into my temple because this shouldn’t matter. Except it does, because she wasn’t supposed to look at me like that, she wasn’t supposed to let me in. Fuck, she wasn’t supposed to crawl—and whimper—and say my fucking name like it meant something.
I should’ve stuck to the plan.
Instead, I let her get under my fucking skin—and now she’s in the hands of the one man I came here to bury.
Me: If he touches her, the plan is out the window and I kill him.
Travis: Thought she was just leverage?
Me: She was.
Me: Until she wasn’t.
Travis: Want me to move?
Me: No. I need you where you are.
Me: I’ll handle it.
I’m already draggingthe duffel from beneath the couch. It’s my secondary kit—clean, fully loaded, and always ready to go.
Frank wants to play house? I’ll burn the whole fucking estate to ash.
I toss the bag onto the counter and unzip it, taking inventory of every weapon. False IDs, glock, blades I haven’t touched since Prague, and even some vials I swore I’d never use again.
But this isn’t a hit.
It’s a war.
Travis: Dinner just started. Candlelight and everything.
My jaw ticks hard enough to crack.
Me: Keep eyes on her. Do not engage.
Travis: You think she went willingly?
Me: Doesn’t fucking matter.
I slam the door behind me and stalk to the car because if he thinks she’ll forget what it felt like to crawl for me, come for me, and scream for me—he’s more delusional than I gave him credit for.
She’s mine.
