“So I changed things. We switched from drugs to hacking. It’s amazing how easy it was. We stole money from the rich instead of ruining the lives of the poor. I knew that drugs were being dealt in Bridgeport, so I went to stop it. I approached other gangs in the city and…” He pauses. “I’ve killed people. A lot of people. We couldn’t move forward without it. And here I am today. I run The Circle, a syndicate that keeps all the gangs in Bridgeport in line. They answer to me.”
I look at him through my tear-streaked eyes. I should be scared. Normal people would be scared. But I’m not normal—and neither is he. All I see when I look at him is the boy who waited outside a school gate for his little sister. The boy who thought he’d walk her home that day like always. The boy who never had a chance before life twisted him into what he is. But the grief is still there, it’s what drives him to make the city better.
He’s nothing like him.
“What happened to your parents?” I whisper.
“They overdosed a few years ago,” he says, voice completely devoid of emotion.
I get up, ignoring the pain in my wrist, and rest on my knees. His face is pained, like he’s reliving everything again in his mind. I pull him towards me and wrap my arms around him tightly.
“I’m so sorry,”
We stay like this for a while. The room is quiet around us. No horns blasting in the street, no birds chirping, just the slow rhythm of Elias’s breathing against my ear. His arms tighten slightly around me, careful not to touch my injured wrist. His chest rises and falls softly beneath my cheek as his slow and steady heartbeat grounds me.
For the first time since I woke up, my body begins to settle. The panic that’s been chronically clawing at my ribs for months eases. His hand moves slowly up and down my spine, and the warmth of him seeps into my skin.
I close my eyes for a moment and let myself breathe calming breaths. I’m alive. And right now, that’s all that matters.
“I love you, Kat,” he whispers in my ear.
My breath hitches. This is the moment I thought I might never have.
“I love you too, Elias Monroe.”
Forty
Elias
Wicked Game - HIM
The rain patters against the window of my office, but thankfully there’s no sign of snow. The metronome in the corner of the room ticks rhythmically, keeping me grounded and present. I’m working from my home office today. The thought of leaving Kat after she almost fucking died is not an option.
It’s been four days since I found her lifeless body on her kitchen floor. Four days, and my brain still hasn’t really accepted the fact that she’s alive. Breathing. Every time I close my eyes, the memory rewinds itself like an old VHS. The door splintering under my boot, the metallic smell, her crimson-stained hair. But the memory that twists the knife the most is that half a second when I thought I was too late. That half a second when the rest of my life without her played out in full color in my head. The memory makes me wince every single time.
I’ve been trying gently to pry more information about her stalker, but she’s silent. I don’t miss the way her eyes dart to the nearest door whenever I ask, or the way she’s had a nightmare every single night since. She thinks she’s great at making people believe she’s fine, but I don’t think she knows how transparent she truly is. I’ve spent most of my life reading people who are trying to hide things—I wouldn’t be the leader of The Circlewithout top notch body language skills. Fear leaves traces that are so fucking obvious. And Kat is terrified.
Since I found her, I’ve had a lot of time to let my mind wander. Too much time, really. My brain keeps circling the same ugly possibilities, each one worse than the last. I have an idea of what she’s running from, but I want to hear it from her mouth. I could push—God knows I have ways of getting answers when I want them. But forcing the truth out of her would only make this another thing being taken away from her. And she’s already had enough of that. I owe this to her. It’s her story to tell.
Freddie hasn’t left her alone the entire time. Fucking loyal cat. He only leaves her side to use the litter box or to eat. I tried to coax him away with that stupid feather toy he likes, but he wasn’t interested. In fact, I swear he gave me the fucking side-eye. The little fucker actually hissed at me when I tried to move him yesterday. Hissed. At me. In my own house. But I’m silently thankful for him. Every time Kat shifts in her sleep, he’s instantly there, nose pressed against her like he’s checking if she’s still breathing. Which, if I’m being honest, is exactly what I’ve been doing too.
I rub the back of my neck, easing out the tension as I scan over the sixth report of the day. After the third report, all the numbers begin to look the same. All the numbers are green, which is all I really care about right now. I switch off the monitor and lean back in my chair. The pressure of everything is pressing down on my shoulders, and my eyes are growing heavy.
After we said those three words to each other, we lay together in bed until her body stopped shaking with sobs and her breathing evened out. We didn’t speak—we didn’t need to. The room was a comfortable silence except for the soft hitch of her breath and the rain tapping against the window.
I haven’t told that story in a long fucking time. Bringing up the past isn’t something I like to do, but I needed her toseeme. All of me. Every stained fucking part. I waited for the moment when the way she looked at me changed. A flicker of doubt, a grimace of disgust. But when the words ran out, she didn’t pull away. She just looked at me like a puzzle piece was clicking into place, and I swear something in my chest cracked. And when she looked me in the eyes, despite everything I had just told her, and told me she loved me too? I could have crumbled to dust at her feet.
A small knock at the door derails my train of thought. “Come in,” I respond without thinking.
The door opens, and Kat appears. Four days ago, she could barely even hold a glass of water without help. Now she’s standing in my doorway with her hair done, like she didn’t almost die. And she’s wearing one of my shirts. One of my shirts that barely covers her ass. Now is not the time for my cock to be stirring in my sweatpants, but here we are anyway.
I rush out of my seat and walk over to her.
“What are you doing? You should be in bed.”
“I can’t stay in bed anymore, Elias. I want todosomething other than watch reruns of Gilmore Girls all day.” She gives an exaggerated eyeroll, but we both know how much she loves that show. Fuck, even I’m starting to hum the theme tune to myself.
I guide her towards my desk and motion for her to sit in my chair. But she turns and grabs my shoulders, pushes me down on the chair instead. I don’t have a moment to think before she lowers herself onto my lap, her arms draped across my shoulders.