Chapter 19
TEMPEST
Justice must prevail, even if all the villains in the world perish. — Immanuel Kant
Iknew he was home—not because the lights were on, but because they weren’t.
The house looked hollow. Depressed. Like it was holding its breath right along with me.
The door was unlocked. Untouched, like he was silently inviting me in.
I stepped inside and found him on the couch, seated in front of the fireplace, flames snapping low and uneven. He stared into it like it had answers, a glass of wine hanging loose in his hand.
There was a gun resting on his right thigh.
My breath caught.
Was the safety on?
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge the door closing behind me. Just sat there, still as stone, firelight carving sharp shadows across his face.
Whatever happened tonight had followed him home.
And for the first time since marrying Louis De Lange, I wondered if the danger I’d been trained to survive was already sitting in my living room.
One meeting had changed him. Just one.
Or maybe he’d always been like this—this darker, sharper version—and I’d only ever seen the mask. Maybe the sinister man sitting beside me had always existed, patiently playing a role for my benefit.
How kind.
How benevolent.
“So,” I said lightly, sitting beside him and reaching for his wine. “You’re alive.”
He snorted. “Disappointed?”
I took a slow sip of the red, buying myself a second to breathe. “No. You’re my husband, after all. Your success is my success.” I set the glass down carefully. “I take it they didn’t hate you?”
He shook his head. “I think I could’ve tolerated them liking me less.”
His hand drifted to the gun on his thigh.
“If I told you their first assignment for me was to kill you,” he said quietly, “what would you say?”
My heart stuttered. “I’d say that’s silly,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “I have no intel on them, so you’re probably bluffing.” I swallowed. “Then I’d follow it up with… I’ve heard worse. And honestly? It sounds about right.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even move.
I stared at the fire. “That my life would end quietly. No drama. No meaning. Like I never really existed.” My chest tightened. “Sometimes I scroll through my memories and wonder if I’ve done anything worth bragging about. Good grades. Too many one-night stands. I spend money well.”
Still nothing. As if he was one of those life-like wax statues.
A tear slid down my cheek. “I’d like to think I’m loyal. A good friend. Loyal to a fault.” I laughed softly. “But nobody brags about loyal friends. Dogs get more credit. At least they offer warmth. Protection. Purpose.”
The fire crackled.
I thought of Grandpa Frank. Of his voice. Of all the moments I’d swallowed myself whole to make everyone else comfortable.
I should’ve listened. I should’ve run. I should’ve screamed instead of kneeling.
Slowly, I slid off the couch and sank to my knees in front of him. I looked up, vision blurred.
“Make it quick,” I whispered. “I don’t like long goodbyes.”
His blue eyes locked onto mine—steel-hard, unreadable. His jaw ticked so hard I thought it might shatter right along with my heart. How poetic of us.
“Thanks for marrying me,” I said softly. “Tell Cassian I’m sorry I didn’t finish… whatever this was.”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
I smiled at death. At least it was handsome. At least it was him.
“Don’t,” Louis said, his voice breaking. He inhaled sharply. “Ever.”
His hands shot out, gripping my elbows as the gun slid away. He hauled me onto his lap like he couldn’t stand the distance another second.
Before I could speak, he kissed me—hard, desperate, unrestrained. The kind of kiss that wasn’t about pleasure but proof of how he felt—about us, about the shitty situation, about everything. This kiss was mine and only mine—no vials, no sister, no Family—us.
“You’re mine,” he said against my mouth.
“Through life and death. You stay by my side. No matter what.” His voice took on a desperate sort of tone as he kissed me harder like imprinting himself on me was the only way to get through the next few hours.
I’d always wanted to be seen—and now I knew—I hadn’t just wanted to be seen—I’d wanted to be needed with such ferocity that the person was sick with it. I’d needed to be someones air.
His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth traced my throat. “Say it.”
Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t understand what was happening—only that I didn’t want it to stop.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes. I’m yours.”
His breath hitched. “Good.”
He stood with me still in his arms and lowered me back against the couch. The fire snapped and hissed as he tore at his tie, then his shirt, stripping down with frantic purpose until he stood bare before me, lit by flame and shadow.
I reached for him without thinking, greedy, desperate, my legs hooking around his hips as he fumbled with my skirt. My heels struck the floor. Our mouths collided—clumsy, hungry, unfinished—like we were afraid time would run out if we paused.
The moment felt raw. Untouchable. Not just desire—devotion.
This wasn’t sex the way I’d known it. This was a vow. Body. Mind. Soul.
In our family, there were whispers about couples who were fully committed—how they didn’t just give their word, but their bodies, their souls. Their blood.
Louis stilled above me.
He pulled a knife from nowhere and sliced his palm open.
I gasped—but before I could speak, he took my hand and did the same. The sting barely registered as he pressed our palms together, blood to blood, and kissed me hard, sealing it.
I knew then.
We had crossed something.
“In life,” I murmured.
“In death.”
“Forever.” A tremor rolled through me, slow and visceral.
“Blood in,” he whispered against my mouth.
“No out.” I nodded. “We get in alive,” I added softly. “We get out dead.”
His hands anchored my hips as he pulled me fully to him, the motion so incredibly decisive—final—as if he were carving the promise into both of us and using the pain of the situation to make sure we remembered.
My palm burned where it was cut. The fire flared, flames licking higher as the pact was made as he thrust into me and pinned me against the couch, eyes locked on me just daring me to look away while he staked his claim.
I greedily wrapped myself around him as waves of pleasure washed over me.
It was always supposed to be like this, crazy, fast, insane to it’s core, a relationship full of bloody oaths and no promises but the moment.
I’d been chasing all this time and I’d lost the race.
I hadn’t realized that I should have waited for the person willing to cross the finish line with me no matter the cost. His hips moved as he lifted me up gripping my ass angling himself so deep I lost my breath.
There. So intimate. Right there. Tears of pleasure and pain welled in my eyes.
“I only see you.” He whispered. “And you’re terrifying.”
I devoured whatever else he was going to say with my mouth while my body gave into every inch of pleasure it could, sucking him dry, pulling him down with me.
The fireplace roared in front of us while our bodies slid against each other.
Vows made. Pleasure peaked. “You’re beautiful when you let go.
” He tugged my ear with his teeth. “Now let me hear you scream.”
He slid his hand between us and I nearly lost consciousness it was just what I needed to fully lose control, to be sent over the edge into madness.
“Louis!” I bit down on his shoulder as waves of pleasure washed over me.
Panting he looked down as blood dripped from his shoulder right along with two small teeth marks. “Dangerous girl.”
He rolled with me onto the floor, still kissing me like letting go wasn’t an option. He wrapped my hand in a strip of his discarded shirt, poured another glass of wine, and pressed it into my fingers.
We sat there, disheveled and silent, staring into the fire.
Finally, he spoke. “If someone kills someone you love,” he said, “you have the right to take their life.”
I nodded. “A life for a life is fair.”
He drained his glass. “I’m glad you agree. Because the life I’m taking… it’s going to hurt you.”
My stomach twisted. I felt sick—but not surprised.
“Will you let me say goodbye?” I asked.
He exhaled. “You’ll know who it is when I give them a gift. The same way you gave me vials of poison. I’ll leave something precious—in the same box.” He looked at me. “You’ll have one hour.”
I wet my lips. “Will I hate you?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“Will we be hunted?”
A beat. Then, “Yes.”
“Is it necessary?”
He turned to me, eyes wild. “Yes.”
I nodded as tears slipped free. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”