Page 93 of Thirst Trap
At the window, I pressed a palm to my stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
The words hit him like a bullet. He didn’t speak,just kissed my forehead fiercely.
“I don’t want to get on that plane,” I whispered. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
He didn’t argue. He trusted my instincts more than his own. We ducked into a service corridor. Through glass, the jet roared down the runway. And then,fire bloomed. The night sky tore apart.
I buried my face in his chest. “I told you.”
“You saved us,” he rasped.
But I couldn’t shake what I’d seen in the terminal minutes before,one of the ground crew with a square Goldsmith signet glinting on his finger.
Penny’s bruises. Logan’s scars. Lucas’s blood. My baby.
The Goldsmiths weren’t finished.
The plane burned.
And so did our peace.
Epilogue
18 years later - Sins of the Twins
The night stank of gasoline and gunpowder.
Not church bells. Not petals. This was our baptism.
Eighteen. Old enough to kill, young enough to still feel immortal. Adrian grinned like he’d been born for this. Maybe he had.
Me? I kept my hands steady, though my gut twisted sharp, the familiar burn biting deep. Not nerves. My body liked to betray me. My voice wouldn’t.
Uncle Logan stood ahead of us, black coat cutting against the dark. He didn’t need to say the rule, we’d grown up breathing them. No fear. No mercy. No backing down.
“First deal,” Adrian whispered, a reckless grin flashing.
“First war,” I corrected.
Headlights swept across the lot. A black car rolled to a stop. The door opened, and he stepped out first. Mr. Vale, a man with a reputation as clean as polished steel and just as cold.
Then her.
Cassandra Vale. Same age as us, but walking like the night already belonged to her. Sharp heels, sharper eyes. She didn’t look at Adrian. She didn’t look at Uncle Logan. She looked at me. And for a moment, my stomach forgot to twist.
Adrian’s grin faltered. Mine held.
Because this wasn’t just business. This was the start of something else.
The twins of sins had arrived. And Cassandra Vale saw us.
***
Gasoline. Gunpowder. The kind of night you never forget.
Eighteen, and already standing shoulder to shoulder with Uncle Logan. Finally, Sebastian stood next to me, stiff as stone. His jaw locked, his gut probably eating him alive. I knew the signs. But he’d never let it show. That was my brother — iron on the outside, fire eating him on the inside.
Me? I was buzzing. Couldn’t stop the grin splitting my face. First deal. First taste of the real game. The first time proving the Creams name wasn’t just something we inherited — it was something we could carry.
