Page 140 of Watch Me Burn
He nods, understanding without explanation. It’s one of the things I value most about him. He doesn’t waste time with questions when he already knows the answers.
“I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“No, let’s keep off the airwaves for the rest of the night. Only call if you run into a problem.”
He nods and heads to the truck. After he leaves, I walk to the Range Rover. I slide into the driver’s seat, positioning myself so I have clear sight lines to everything that matters. Most importantly, I can see Luna’s bedroom window on the second floor.
Luna and Maren work for the next hour, moving from enclosure to enclosure, checking on each animal, offering comfort, and restoring order. Luna focuses on the animals, forgetting her own distress as she tends to theirs.
They finish with the last enclosure, and Luna locks the sanctuary building, double-checking the door before she and Maren cross the yard to her house. She looks my way. Even from here, her expression is clear.
Go home, Damien. You’re dismissed.
Fuck! I love this woman. Even when she guts me.
I make a show of starting the Range Rover and driving away. But I return three minutes later, turning off the headlights and the engine as I coast in neutral back up the driveway. I park far enough down that she won’t see me if she looks out the window, but close enough that I can still see the house.
The lights come on upstairs. In the warm glow of her bedside lamp, Luna finally breaks. She sits on her bed, and her shoulders begin to shake. Maren sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her as Luna collapses against her friend, her sobs visible even from this distance.
The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of my grip. This is the second time I’ve made her cry. I want to be the one comforting her. I want to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe from everything. Including myself. But I’ve lost that right, if I ever had it at all.
Maren strokes Luna’s hair as she cries, and Luna’s lips move, pouring out words I can’t hear. Is she telling Maren everything? About me? About what happened tonight? About what I am?
No. She wouldn’t betray me. I’m certain of it.
I stay for another hour, watching as Luna eventually calms. After changing into pajamas, she and Maren climb into bed together. Maren won’t leave Luna alone tonight, something I’m grateful for, even as jealousy burns through my veins.
Then Maren gets up and walks to the window. For a moment, she stands there, her silhouette dark against the golden light, and I swear she’s looking right at me. Her eyes scan the yard and driveway as if she suspects I’m here, and then she pulls the curtains closed with a sharp jerk, shutting me out.
Chapter thirty-six
Damien
Two days later, Luna sits across from me in the armchair by the fireplace. She’s on the edge of the seat, back straight, hands gripping her knees, ready to bolt at any moment. An emergency with a yellow-bellied marmot yesterday took up her entire day, preventing this conversation, but ten minutes ago she walked through my door and announced it was time to talk.
Luna’s eyes meet mine, unwavering despite the dark circles beneath them. The bruise on her cheek has bloomed into a swirl of purple and yellow, and my blood boils at the sight. If Caleb Hunter were still alive, I’d kill him again. Nice and slow.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I force the words out first, filling the silence before it can become unbearable. My voice sounds steadier than I feel, nothing like the anxiety twisting through my gut. “Coffee? Water? Something stronger?”
“Whiskey. If we’re doing this, I need something stronger than coffee.”
If she knew what I’m about to tell her, she’d ask for the whole damn bottle.
I nod, moving to the bar in the corner. I pour two fingers into matching glasses, my hands betraying none of the turmoil churning inside me. The amber liquid catches the firelight, reminding me of her eyes when she’s angry.
“I didn’t tell you the day I was here, but I like how you renovated this office. It feels very you. Dark and mysterious with a touch of modern.”
I settle into the chair opposite her, cradling my own drink. Her awkward attempt at normal conversation would be endearing if the circumstances were different.
“You’re terrible at small talk, Luna.”
She shrugs, and I catch the ghost of that brittle smile I’ve seen on her face too often recently. “We can get right to it if you prefer.”
“This house was not meant to be a home, but rather a place I don’t have to hide who I am.”
“And who are you?” Luna takes a small sip of whiskey, her eyes never leaving mine. “The billionaire CEO? The masked stalker? The killer?”
Christ. She doesn’t pull any punches, does she? No one has ever looked at me like this, seeing all my pieces and demanding I explain how they fit together. It should terrify me, but instead, it makes me want to bare my throat to her.
