Thirty-Two
Sara
There’s always a point in your life where you confront this question: What is your why?
I was asking myself why I needed to find out what had happened to Joe, and though the reasoning is purely emotional, it doesn’t make it any less capable of consuming me. I needed to know, devoid of logic.
Love doesn't die. It doesn’t dissipate into thin air like the soul that was taken from you—the one you would desperately claw at just to keep alive. Even though he wasn’t here anymore, the heart, mind, and body can’t rationalize with the missing pieces. His love still pulsed within me.
Perhaps if I knew what happened to him as his motorcycle accident felt less like an accident, I’d be able to leave a lot more behind and truly start a life with Liam. My irrational need to control fate was purely a reaction to how many times an unwelcome path had shattered my world.
One path was certain: losing Liam would extinguish me; it would leave me for dead.
I’d surrender to the tricky shadows beckoning to engulf me into an undercurrent abyss that is dark within cold depths where peaceful ripples would soothe.
Just one taste of the saltiness of regret and grief filling my lungs…
But then comes the determination when air is too vital, igniting a spark of resilience.
So, I would take that one deep breath to keep me swimming higher and higher, although without him, I wouldn’t have the strength to resurface.
I wouldn’t find the determination to survive.
And that was dangerous. Exceedingly dangerous.
The room is a blur of motion as my thoughts tangle with the sharp reality of what we are about to do.
This is about Joe. This is about returning girls home.
This is about getting answers and making a difference in a village that I won’t allow obscure pieces of shit to take away the very essence of my home.
Liam's fingers are steady around mine, his grip tightening as he leans close, his breath warm against my cheek.
“This will keep us connected,” he says, voice low as he slips the small earbud into my ear, tucking it beneath my hair with surprising gentleness. “I'll hear everything. If anything feels wrong, anything at all, just say the word and we'll pull you out.”
I nod, trying to ignore how his touch sends electricity dancing across my skin.
An earbud connecting us was an irony. They say making love is like crossing a bridge; you can never fully go back to who you were after giving a fragment of your body.
I gave a piece of my soul to Liam, and he gave me a piece of his, a newly learned language.
One I can’t imagine ever not wanting to learn more of its ways to become closer and closer to him with each passing day.
My eyes widen. “I thought you destroyed this,” I whisper as he withdraws the necklace from his pocket—the very one Charles had given me. His jaw tightens as he unclasps it.
“I was going to.” Liam admits, his voice rough. “After the jacuzzi, when I...”
He doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to. The memory of his hungry mouth against mine, water splashing around us as he'd claimed me with such desperation flashed through my mind like lightning.
“It's your way in,” he says, eyes darkening. “But I hate seeing his mark on you.”
“It's just a prop,” I whisper.
“It’s more than that”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I showed it to Damien. He remembered a few girls we’ve saved wearing distinctive poker games themed pendants. After tonight, the only mark you’ll ever wear on your skin is my teeth and the trace of my fingers.” He pauses, his thumb grazing my lower lip. “You’re so beautiful.”
My breath hitches, a wave of gratitude for this man. He’s exhausted, and I’m on edge, but determination roams freely. Unapologetically.
Artemis stumbles out of the bathroom, her damp hair flying off her shoulders as she flicks her long locks draping over her elegant purple dress as if she was heading to just another party in town.
Meanwhile, I feel like I have cat fur stuck in my throat. I’m not sure how much Damien told her about everything, but I was very surprised when he said Artemis would be the one coming with me.
The door swings open with a soft click, and Damien steps in, his eyes immediately finding Artemis.
His expression freezes, something flickering behind those dark eyes that I can’t read, and the room shrinks around us as he stands there, one hand gripping the doorframe.
“You look...” he begins, then clears his throat. “The dress works.”
Artemis shifts confidently under his gaze.
Damien reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out another necklace. “You'll need this.” He extends it towards Artemis.
“Are you sure about this? We can send someone else with her,” Liam asks Damien.
Artemis raises an eyebrow. “I can handle myself.”
Liam's eyes narrow, his body tensing beside me as his hand possessively finds my lower back.
“This isn't about your capabilities. These people are dangerous and it's beyond what you're imagining.”
Damien lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Relax, she's got training.”
“Training?” I echo, looking between them. The casual way Damien references this sends alarm bells ringing through me.
“What is he talking about?” I ask Artemis.
“She knows how to handle a blade. I’ve seen her handle one firsthand.” Damien notes with a shrug, his eyes never leaving Artemis.
Liam watches them and swallows a laugh.
“We’re good though.” Damien rakes his fingers through his hair, a muscle in his jaw jumping as the inked designs stretching across his neck shifts with each tense swallow, and Artemis gives him a glacial hazel glare.
Once in Liam’s Jeep, the only comfort I feel are his fingers resting in between my thighs. I stare back at him, his forearm gripping the wheel, and it does something inexplicable. A heat in my stomach like a string sowing me back together.
“You’re doing that thing again when you think too much.” He nods in my direction with a knowing smirk.
“What do I do?” I ask, my hand caressing his cheek. The gesture is so simple, yet the mere permission to touch him is like a drug.
“Your eyes stare like they're looking into an empty field.” His fingers tighten around my thigh, the pressure both grounding and possessive.
“I'm just staring at you,” I admit softly. “Nothing empty about it.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, but concern still lingers in his eyes.
“Sometimes when I'm nervous, I create these little boxes in my mind.” I explain, letting my head fall back on the seat, watching how the streetlights cast shadows across the sharp planes of his face as we drive. “Mental compartments where I can file away different thoughts. One box for things that scare me, one for things I need to process, one for things I don’t want to think about too much…” I trail off moving my hand in the air, not wanting to say what the largest box contains, that seems to overflow no matter how many times I try to organize it.
“It helps me focus, keeps me from drowning in everything all at once.”
For a moment, I forget about poker chips and earbuds and the danger waiting for us. There's only Liam, the road, and the electricity between us. Without warning, he swerves to the side of the road, pulling the Jeep onto the shoulder with a controlled urgency as he shifts into park.
“What are you—” But before I can finish, Liam reaches over pulls his seat back and unbuckles my seatbelt.
“Come here,” he grinds out, lifting me effortlessly onto his lap. I let out a surprised gasp as I straddle him, the fabric of my dress sliding up my thighs.
Liam's hands travel from my waist to my hips, fingers digging into the bare skin exposed. His eyes dark with desire, locked onto mine.
“What box am I in?” he asks, his voice rough as his hands move up to lace through my hair, cradling my head with surprising tenderness despite the intensity in his gaze. “In that mind of yours—where do you put me?”
My breath catches. The question holds more weight than he realizes. Or maybe he knows exactly what he's asking.
“The… the Liam box,” I whisper, not trusting myself to elaborate further on his box in my mind, consuming all the others with every heartbeat. His hands tighten in my hair, tilting my face toward his.
“Not good enough,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my lips, “tell me what's in the box.”
I stare into him, incapable of saying the words I desperately want to allow myself to feel but can’t just yet.
Seeing my emotions, he gives me lenience, and his mouth finds mine, gently brushing his upper lip to mine.
He takes his time as if he's trying to uncover every secret I've kept locked away.
His tongue slides against mine, claiming, and I melt against him, my body responding with a deep need to get close to him, to dig myself inside his soul.
My fingers clutch at his shoulders, digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt as I press myself closer.
When he finally breaks the kiss, his forehead rests against mine, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.
“Come back to me.” His voice breaks slightly, vulnerability etched in the lines of his face.
I blink, surprised by the rawness in his voice. “Liam, I—”
“No.” His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks with surprising gentleness. “I'm not asking. You will come back to me tonight. I won't—I can't sleep without you beside me. Not anymore.”
The confession hangs between us, heavy and real. This isn't just about tonight, this is Liam Laurent, the man who keeps everyone at arm's length, admitting he needs me.
“I’ll always come back to you,” I say, hoping he feels all the words I mean to say with my kiss to his lips, his jaw, his forehead. “There’s no way you can get rid of me now.” I smile, tears pooling at my eyes, before I know they’re falling.