Page 130 of Painted Scars
CHAPTER 37 - KATE
Morning comes, dragging with it a cocktail hangover from the club last night. I want to rewind to then, dancing with August, him dropping his guard and handing me control. Back in his bed, tangled in his sheets, stealing more hours where betrayal softens at the edges, forgiveness on the horizon.
Alas, fun never lasts, and we’re back to reality. Today, I’ve got to ignite the explosive to blow the Romans’ secret wide open. We’re back in the bunker, servers humming instead of speakers, the air stale with recycled heat and the scent of tin coffee.
I hover over my laptop, the article I wrote yesterday staring back at me, waiting to be loaded like a bullet in a revolver.
August sits beside me, a hand on my knee, staring at me without the pressure to light the fuse.
Grayson’s in the background, typing so fast, I’m surprised he doesn’t hack time itself.
“If we hit publish, we can’t take it back,” I tell August, needing to hear the weight of it aloud.
“Second thoughts?” Grayson pauses whatever code he’s programming.
I swallow. “Not enough to chicken out.”
“Go scorched earth, Glitter Bomb,” August coaxes me with a pat on my thigh.
We lean into the trackpad, holding our breath, his arm brushing mine, making my pulse kick in my throat for more than one reason.
“On three,” I say, finger poised over the mouse.
We count down, and his hand wraps over mine, supporting me as I click. The screen refreshes with our byline on the front page of my blog.
Oh, shit.
“It’s live.” I breathe, staring at the screen.
“Cue the hacking genius.” Grayson starts pumping the story into the veins of Shadow Lake, getting it out to as many citizen journalist outlets, influencers, and content creators with enough clout to make the Romans sweat.
August and I take a minute, sit there and listen to the hum of servers and the clicking of Grayson’s keys. I feel equal parts fire and dread but breathe through it.
“You’re so fucking brave, Glitter Bomb.” He praises me, claiming my hand and squeezing it, steadying me. “We’ll handle what comes next together.”
“Team Grumpy Glitter Bomb,” I say, trying to stop the tremble in my voice.
“I’m starting to like color,” he replies.
I turn and lean into him, needing to lean into the way I felt last night, my back curled into his chest, his arm over my waist, and mouth shy of my ear.
He holds me for a long time and then leans back. “It feels like a celebration is in order. Cheesecake and tea?”
The corner of my mouth tugs up. “My morally orange stalker knows the way to my heart with salted caramel.”
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” It’s a loaded question disguised as a joke.
“Oh, don’t push it, Grovel Daddy.” I run my finger down his nose. “I can’t think on an empty stomach and zero orgasms.”
Zero orgasms past breakfast… just for clarity.
Grayson spits out his cold coffee all over his monitor, curses under his breath, and furiously scrubs the mess with a rag.
August chuckles and shrugs on his jacket. “Stay here with Grayson. You’re safe here with him. I’ll be back in thirty. Call me if the Romans pull the articles.” He pockets his phone and leans down to drop a kiss to my hair. “And no dirty talk.”
“I’m officially morally gray now and can’t make those kinds of promises.” I wink and win a smile that I’m coming to love more by the day.
“Back soon, Princess Brat.” He spanks the side of my leg and backs away.
