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“I’m right here. You’re not alone anymore,” he reminds me.
And in his arms, I know I’m not. I know that no matter what I go through, he’ll always be there.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves his phone, staring at the screen for a few moments, concentrating deeply on something he’s reading.
“What is it?” I ask him, curiously peeking at the screen to find out what has him so enthralled.
He grinds his jaw for a moment as he looks at me. And without saying a word, he shifts the phone so that I can see what’s on it.
My pulse races as I see it: a man with brown hair and even darker eyes, the smirk on his mugshot so vile I want to reachinside and rip the skin off his face.
Everything in me wants to see him suffer, feel him take his last painful breath.
“What is this?” I murmur, even as everyone else around us happily enjoys the pieces of cake now lying across the large dining table.
“You know what it is. The question is, are you still in?”
We haven’t discussed this at all. Not the murders, not the future when it comes to that part of our life, but I never intended to stop.
“I want to keep going.” My lips curl at one side. “I want us to do it together.”
He brushes my jaw with his knuckles and his eyes turn hooded. “Then let’s go hunting, little wolf.”
And so we do.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
KAYLA
ONE YEAR LATER
Our wedding is a month away,and I can’t believe it’s almost here. Who would’ve thought that two people like us would ever have what we do?
And sure, I’d be lying if I said things were perfect. Because this isn’t some fairy tale. This is real life.
Adriel has been getting a little closer with his family. We see them more often now, but he’s still reserved—except with Sophia, of course. The man is insane for that child.
He still struggles with everything he’s been through, however. And who would blame him? Trauma isn’t an imaginary thing we can brush aside for prettier, shiner things. But we’re managing as best we can.
Though Adriel won’t attempt therapy, I have. I found someone new. Someone I trust. Someone I can be completely open andhonest with, and there’s something beautiful about that.
I still go to school, still pursuing my dream of becoming an oncologist, while also working for Helping Hand. Assisting Jade with finding the girls work, prepping them for job interviews, that’s something I do for me. It gives me purpose. Like I’m really doing good.
Leilani, one of the girls from Helping Hand, peeks at me from behind her shoulder, assessing herself in the long mirror in her room at the center. Her long black hair’s up in a ponytail, a pantsuit on, something she’s never worn before.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks with a grimace.
“Absolutely! You look amazing and professional.”
She’s only twenty and came to us a year ago after her mother sold her to a trafficker for drugs. When she was rescued by authorities, they brought her here. She was hesitant at first, not trusting a soul. Until I met her. We hit it off right away. And now she’s about to go to an interview for a job as a cashier at a bank.
“You’re smart, capable. I know you’ll do amazing.”
“And if I don’t get it?” She fidgets with her sleeves, eyes downcast.
“Then you don’t get it.” I shrug. “There’s always the next one.”
She sighs. “You’re right. Thank you for the suit.”
