26
Luna
The cool breeze barely registers against my fevered skin. Cade Quinn is a killer. A compulsive one. But that brutal truth only deepens his magnetic pull and makes me want to crawl into his mind—and his lap.
And that’s just idiotic, Luna. How do you keep picking the worst companions? And this time the stakes aren’t betrayal. It’s death.
My heart and body don’t seem to care about staying alive. Which is why my brain is now running the show. I need space to think beyond this primal urge to submit to his darkness.
If I want to survive Cade, I’ll need an escape plan.
The credit card hidden in my boot is one lifeline. So also is a phone—as soon as I buy one. I have to let someone know where I am and who I’m with, just in case Cade decides to try his necklace on me.
I also need to make sure that my period stays away.
I d idn’t lie. I do need supplies. The fact that Cade concluded I was on the verge of flooding his pristine leather seats with my period, well that’s on him.
I haven’t had a period in two years—not since Maman was diagnosed. The progesterone pills keep my periods away. I figured if someone was desperate enough, they could dig through my trash, get a DNA sample, and slam me with my greatest fear.
Which is why I also use disposable toothbrushes, clean my drain pipes obsessively, and never leave my hairbrush lying around.
And now I’ve already missed a day of the pill.
“Come on, Saint.” My hand brushes the back of his neck as I move toward the shopping center. I don’t have to bend to reach him, Saint’s full height puts his head at my hip.
Why did Cade insist that Saint come with me? The thought loops through my mind, tugging at the edges of my nerves.
Hector is dead, Clemenza’s been paid and Chicago is miles away. Why would I need a guard?
The store’s bell jingles when I push open the door, making me flinch. Too quaint for a place this size, but small towns are weird like that. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, bathing everything in a cold, sterile glow.
Behind the counter, a kid barely out of his teens gasps, his gaze fixed on Saint. His pale face goes even whiter as Saint steps forward.
“Uh, Miss? You can’t—the dog, he can’t be in here—”
Saint’s eyes snap to the boy, and he freezes, the words dying in his throat. I can almost hear his pulse race from across the room.
I give him a thin smile and lie. “He’s harmless.”
Crouching to Saint’s level, I murmur, “Hey, mate, you wanna wait for me outside?”
Sai nt’s eyes flick from the cashier to me, then his body shifts forward a few steps before he stops and looks back, as if to ask “You coming?”
The kid swallows hard. “Uh . . . maybe it’s better if you go with him.”
Smart kid. I grab a basket and move down the aisles. I get tampons first—just for cover. Then I head straight to the drugs section.
Thankfully, there’s no queue. The lady only shoots Saint a few wary looks, but otherwise, she hands me a packet of Opill.
On my way to the electronics section, I duck behind a cabinet. Satisfied that no one is watching, I reach into my boot and take out my hidden credit card. When I straighten, I find Saint’s red eyes fixed on me, tension radiating from him. He doesn’t growl, but the look is enough to send a cold trickle of fear down my spine.
My fingers clamp around the card.
He can’t know what I’m doing. It’s impossible.
But those eyes boring into my soul suggest otherwise.
I need to get my act together . Saint is noticing my body language and probably thinks I’m shoplifting.
“Easy, boy.” I find the sweet spot behind the ears, scratching until some of that tension bleeds out of him.
After the nice girl in the gadget section helps me set up my new SIM and phone, I get a pack of toothbrushes, some snacks, and a toy for Saint, and I’m all done.
The kid at check out looks even more terrified than before, his gaze ping-ponging between Saint and me, hands shaking so bad he can barely scan items.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
He nods on autopilot. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”
I p aste on a smile and swipe the card for the phone and pills while paying cash for everything else. I feel Saint’s stare. It’s that judgy look again. Like he’s keeping score.
Stare all you want, mate. Too bad you can’t rat me out.
Grabbing the bags, I head for the door. Just before stepping out, I take a quick detour to the magazine rack, pretending to be engrossed in an issue while I deftly tear open the pill packet and stuff the medication in my pocket. The phone goes into my bra and the credit card back into my boot.
Relief floods me as I leave the store. I no longer feel trapped. I’m not completely at Cade’s mercy. I have a backup plan.
My steps falter as Cade comes into view. He’s leaning against the side of the truck, ankles crossed, one hand raking through his hair. The move pulls his T-shirt tight across his chest, and despite being cooped up with him for the last six hours, the sight still hits hard. Like mainlining adrenaline.
His don’t-fuck-with-me scowl warns you to keep your distance, even as his raw magnetism reels you in.
And then a brunette in skintight workout gear slinks up to him, her glossy ponytail swinging with each calculated step. I watch her routine—the head tilt, the casual hip shift, the practiced smile that’s half invitation, half challenge, and my gut twists in a feeling I don’t want to name.
Cade pulls his phone from his ear long enough to raise his index finger, cutting her off mid-speech, and then he jabs his thumb to the side before returning to his call.
Coldest dismissal I’ve ever seen. The woman’s face flames as she storms off. Why his reaction fills me with such vicious satisfaction isn’t something I care to examine either.
Cade puts the phone away and his attention snaps to me the moment I’m in range, his eyes tracking Saint first, then sliding over me.
“ Get what you need?” His voice is velvet over steel, with a bite that raises the hair on my neck. Or maybe I’m imagining it.
I nod.
Saint leaps into the truck bed, slipping under the shelter, but Cade doesn’t move. His eyes continue to rake over me, deliberate and slow, melting my wariness into thick, undeniable lust. The corners of his mouth curl, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
I’m so screwed with this man, even as the phone pressed against my breast reminds me why I need to stay sharp.
His gaze lingers on my face as though waiting for a confession while I quickly round the hood and slide into my seat, refusing to give him whatever he’s looking for. He stays rooted there a moment, then finally climbs in.
A silence settles between us as the road stretches ahead, endless asphalt and yellow lines blurring together.
As Cade drives, his steady breathing and the hum of the engine seep into my bones. Against my better judgment, the tension drains from my shoulders. My mind grows foggy, my body lulled by the steady rhythm of the tires against the road.
Before I know it, my eyes flutter closed, and sleep pulls me under.