Page 134 of Surrender to Me
Every bit of focus I have narrows to her. I stroke her back, making steady circles. I’ve got hold of her, keeping her anchored. Keeping her from slipping under again.
She’s dealt with the unimaginable today.
“Look at me,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t.
Not until I tilt her chin up with two fingers, guiding her without force, giving her no place to hide.
Her eyes lift—wide, glassy, terrified.
“You’re not going to die.” I keep her gaze ensnared. She needs to hear this. “You’re not marked. You’re not bait. And no one is coming for you.”
Her voice cracks. “You don’t know that.”
“Actually I do. Our rabbit is dead.”
While she finally slept—exhausted from the adrenaline crash and shaking herself apart—there was a soft knock at the bedroom door.
Inamorata let herself in and quietly beckoned me to join her, her expression sharp and businesslike.
In her no-nonsense way, she informed me they eliminated the one who ran. That meant that no one knows what happened, who fired the shots.
I didn’t breathe for almost a full second before the full weight of news nearly knocked my knees out from under me.
Now, Lyra starts shaking her head, refusing to believe it, refusing to accept anything resembling relief.
“But—”
“Once the locket and the fob are in the open, the danger will vanish completely.”
She shakes her head, as if unable to believe.
A minute drags by, a second, a third as the implications sink in. “But there are other heists. My name is on a wanted list.”
“It will be dealt with.” I make my voice firm and certain, as reassuring as I possibly can. “All of it.”
Her eyes brim again, but for a different reason this time.
I cup the side of her face, stroke my thumb along her cheek. “I need you to trust me, Lyra.”
“Stryker—”
“I know this is the biggest ask of your life. But I’m asking anyway.”
“Why?” Furrowing her eyebrows, she studies me. “Why are you doing this for me?”
And that’s when it hits me—hard, fast, unavoidable.
The truth is already in my throat before I can stop it.
“Because I love you.”
Her breath catches like I’ve punched all the air out of her lungs.
She just stares at me, unmoving, unblinking, eyes wide with something that looks like shock—or maybe devastation—or maybe awe. I can’t tell. I’ve never seen anyone look at me like that. I’ve never given anyone the chance.
A part of me wants to take the words back—jam them down my throat—pretend they never escaped.
