Page 143 of Cold Mercy

“Thomas, you’re out of your mind,” she breathes. “You think she won’t eventually learn what you’ve done? How did you appear out of nowhere? The truth will come out even if I say nothing.”

“That’s not your concern anymore.”

Grace shakes her head in disbelief, her hand covering her mouth.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe what you’ve turned into. What have you gotten yourself into? What did you drag that girl into?”

“That’s between me and her,” I answer without a tremor. “Not you.”

The silence between us snaps tight.

Her voice cracks. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.”

When she still doesn’t move, I nod toward the door.

“You don’t need to,” I reply, opening her door from the inside. “You just need to get the fuck out of my car. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

She scrambles out like someone just handed her a live grenade, slamming the door behind her with shaking hands.

There’s no turning back now. The last month dragged me through every rotten alley and shadowy corner of New York I swore I’d never step into again. But I did it anyway, for her. For the future I’m stupid enough to want. For the version of my life where I’m not someone's weapon, where Grace doesn’t get to pull my strings and smile for the cameras while I bleed in the dark.

She spent years collecting praise for operations I carried on my back. I was the dog on the leash, the shield taking bullets so she could stand at a podium, and even then, I didn’t complain. Until I had something to fight for.

Sophia changed the rules. She made me want things I thought were dead in me. A home, life, family. Someone to wake up beside who isn’t a ghost or a dream I’m forbidden to touch.

I drive straight to Cold Spring, fueled by the terrifying lightness of having nothing left to lose except her. I pull up as the morning sun is cutting through the trees, and I see the gate is already open.

I park the car and am just stepping out when the front door opens, and there she is. Standing there in a simple silk dress, looking out at the driveway. She sees me, and before I can even close the car door, she is running.

I meet her halfway, and she launches herself at me with such force that I'm already catching her, my arms wrapping around her waist to lift her off the ground. Her legs lock around my hips in a single, fluid motion, and she buries her face in my neck, breathing me in, and the impact knocks the wind out of me.

She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. Her eyes are bright, suspiciously wet, but she’s smiling that sharp, beautiful smile.

“So,” she says, her voice thick with relief. “Turns out Mr. Reed knows how to keep a promise after all.”

I press my forehead against hers, my hands gripping her thighs like I’m afraid she’ll vanish.

“I missed you,” I choke out, the confession tearing out of my throat. “I missed you so fucking much, Sophia.”

She kisses me, not gently, but in a collision that feels like she's trying to fuse our mouths together. I kiss her back with a hunger that feels like starvation. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, claiming it, swallowing her gasps. I hold the back of her head, angling her face, kissing her with a desperate, possessive heat that says she is mine and I am never letting her go again.

Without putting her down, I walk us toward the house, our mouths still locked in a desperate kiss. As I step over the threshold, I break the kiss just enough to look down at her.

“Is it too early to be carrying you over the threshold?” I murmur, breathless.

She laughs, resting her forehead against mine.

“Considering I haven’t even been on a single date with you? Yes, Reed. Much too early.”

I tighten my grip, walking us down the hallway.

“France seems like the perfect place for a first date, don't you think?”

“Maybe,” she whispers, biting her lip. “If you behave.”

CHAPTER 37

SOPHIA