Page 109

Hit.

“This is for trying to assault him.”

Hit.

I shake off the blood dripping from my knuckles before pulling the gun from the back of my belt, pointing it at the space between his eyes.

“N-no, fuck—please,” Gideon cries out through his busted face, but I can barely hear him through this haze.

“And this,” I say calmly, cocking my head as my finger tightens over the trigger, “This is for thinking you were ever worthy of him.”

Bang.

Chapter 30

Adrian

“You look suspiciously less miserable lately.” Amani hooks her arm through mine, tilting her head up at me and narrowing her eyes.

“I wasn’t miserable.”

“You absolutely were.” She bumps her shoulder into mine as we follow the lantern-lit path deeper into the event grounds. “Now you actually look alive again.”

Alive.

That’s one way to put it.

The gravel crunches beneath our shoes and orange lights sway overhead with the wind, casting moving shadows across the rows of food stalls and Halloween decorations. Somewhere deeper into the venue, music hums low through speakers while people weave between haystacks doubling as seating, carrying hot drinks and paper trays of food. It’s smaller than Nightfall, more local and far less theatrical.

Thank fucking God.

I just came from Phantom Productions, still smelling faintly of artificial fog and body paint after spending half the day photographing promo material for their final Halloween campaign. Selene had thanked me personally before I left, all smiles and sharp teeth hidden behind crimson lipstick as she told me I’ve done ‘impeccable’ work for them thus far.

The strange part is that she didn’t book me for their biggest event. Their official Halloween weekend production.

Apparently, they’d already hired another team, and she insisted I “take a break and enjoy myself for once.”

Weird. But not weird enough for me to care right now.

Not when my life finally feels… stable again. Or whatever the fuck my version of stable is supposed to be.

Being around Dante scratches at something in my brain in a way nothing else really does. He keeps my attention without demanding performance and somehow understands things about me without needing them explained. There’s no guessing with him. No pretending. No trying to shape my reactions into something people deem acceptable.

“You’re doing it again,” Amani teases.

I blink. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you look spaced out.”

“I always look like this.”

She laughs under her breath and squeezes my arm tighter. “Yeah, although now you look more peaceful.”

My mouth twitches before I can stop it.

She catches it instantly and gasps dramatically. “Oh, my God. That’s a smile.”

“Relax.”