Page 132 of The Last Call Home
His eyes drop to my fists clenched in the blanket.Then, slowly—so goddamn slowly—it’s like time bends around him, he reaches out.His fingers graze mine.
A whisper of contact.Skin brushing against skin, heat making its way through the cold that's been locked in my bones since they pulled me out of that van.
Just enough to tell me that we survived.
“How are you?”he asks.
His voice does something to me.It cracks something under my ribs—not cleanly, not painlessly.Just ...wide enough to let him in.
I want to tell him that I’m fine.I want to lie through my teeth and pretend that this isn’t unraveling me.
But I’m not fine.I’m strung out on grief, high on adrenaline, and dizzy with the need that has been simmering beneath my skin since the moment he walked in.
“I’m exhausted,” I manage, barely.“Confused.”
He nods, slow and sure.“That’s normal.”His gaze doesn’t leave mine, but his hand moves again—up, past my wrist, my arm—until his fingers gently catch a piece of my hair and tuck it behind my ear.His touch lingers just a moment too long, like he can’t quite let go.“When you’re ready, I have a list of counselors who can help you.”
His thumb traces the edge of my jaw, and, fuck—it burns.It soothes.It pulls a noise from my throat that doesn’t belong in a hospital bed.
“It’s going to take time,” he says, voice thick with something that feels like devotion.“But we’re going to be okay.”
“We will,” I mumble, but it’s barely a sound.My mouth is dry, heart hammering too hard for something that shouldn’t be happening right now.But he’s closer now.Too close.Not close enough.
He bends toward me, slow as sin.Eyes locked on mine.Breath uneven.
I feel every inch of it—the climb.The build.The gravitational pull that’s lived between us from the beginning, stretching taut and wild and impossible to ignore now that everything else has been stripped away.
My breath stutters.His lips are just inches from mine.
“You sure?”he murmurs, like a secret, like a promise.
I don’t answer with words.
I just tilt my chin up and close the fucking distance.
The moment his mouth touches mine, I swear the room disappears.His lips are warm, insistent, his mouth open and tasting and taking like he’s starving for this.For me.And I give it to him—everything.All the fear, the fury, the fire trapped beneath my skin.I kiss him like I’ll never get another chance.Like this is the only way to stay alive.
His hand finds my jaw, holding me in place, and he deepens it with a sound that rips through both of us.I moan into his mouth, threading my fingers into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer even though we both know we can’t.Not here.Not now.
But fuck it.
I need to feel.I need to burn.
And he kisses me like he’s ready to burn with me.
ChapterSixty-One
Malerick
It’s beenfour weeks since everything unfolded.The Hollow Syndicate is no longer a threat.The town that once whispered our name like a curse now greets us in the streets like some kind of vindicated heroes.Of course Rosalinda had to go and tell them how we returned to save the town.My future mother-in-law knows how to twist a tale and sell it like it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life.
The documents that CQS found in the lockbox—thanks to Lilah’s bracelet—burned the remaining members of the Syndicate who are still alive, and finally, finally, cleared Daniel Draven’s name.
Delilah’s father.
The man she spent her life grieving is no longer a ghost in her story.He’s part of her roots now.A very complicated part because he’s no hero, but no villain either.Daniel has lived in a gray area where he helping the FBI with things that can’t get done when you need to follow the law.
He’s now trying to earn his daughter’s love and Rosalinda’s forgiveness without directly asking for it.
