Chapter 9
chapter nine
WILLOW
The elevator glides up so smoothly it doesn’t feel real. For a second I wonder if I’ve died and am being delivered straight to heaven—or, more likely, hell. Not that I believe in hell.
When the doors whisper open, I step out into a hallway so pristine it practically sneers at me.
White marble floors. Polished chrome fixtures. A hushed silence that feels like money itself lives here. My boots click too loud against the tile. Not-Kade presses a keycard against the penthouse door. It clicks open, and he gestures for me to go first.
I step inside, but only make it six feet deep before I stop to take it in.
“Damn,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “This place looks like it’s waiting for a realtor to finish staging it.”
It’s gorgeous, sure. Floor-to-ceiling windows swallowing the neon lights of the Strip.
There’s an open-concept kitchen gleaming with stainless steel appliances and expensive marble countertops.
The living room boasts a leather sectional that’s definitely Italian, arranged at the perfect angle toward the view, not the TV.
The marble floors are so polished they practically reflect the city skyline back at me.
But it’s cold. Sterile. Not one framed photo. Not a plant. No scuff marks or evidence that anyone actually lives here.
Not-Kade sets the takeout bag on the counter and quirks a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s… off, I know.”
I snort. “If you were going for luxury mausoleum, you nailed it.”
His head whips to me, his eyes wide. “Is being a mind reader part of the whole witchy vibe? Because a mausoleum is exactly what I’ve thought of it as.”
I smirk. “No, but what else would anyone call this place?”
Something flickers across his face, and for the first time tonight, I see a crack.
He leans against the counter, folding those ridiculous arms, muscles straining against his shirt.
“It doesn’t feel like home,” he admits. His voice is low, stripped of the usual swagger.
“It’s just… a place to sleep. A place to hide. ”
That sobers me fast. I glance back at the view, at the glittering Strip reflected in the windows. For anyone else, this penthouse would be a dream. For him? It sounds like a cage lined in leather and glass.
He’s lonely here.
I want to poke fun, lighten it up, but the lump in my throat surprises me. He could have invited me here to impress me, to flex. Instead, he’s admitting he hates it. That feels as intimate as if he’d stripped naked in front of me.
“Come on,” he says, shaking it off and rustling the takeout bag. “Let’s eat before the chips get too soggy.”
We settle at the massive island, opening containers. The smell of cheese, jalapenos, and pico fills the air, chasing away the sterile vibe just a little. I scoop up the delicious mess with chips that aren’t too soggy yet, and keep sneaking glances at him.
He’s not pushing. Not crowding me. Just… being.
But that leaves silence for my head to fill, and now it won’t shut up.
He’s here. He’s real. And he’s still looking at me like he wants me, after watching me kill a man with his own eyes.
I’ve spent the past two weeks waiting for my world to implode.
I scrubbed the shop clean until my hands blistered.
I bleached my truck bed twice. I checked, rechecked, and triple-checked every trace of Travis Bell.
I was ready to run at the first sign of cops, my go bag never more than a breath away.
But Not-Kade hasn’t turned me in.
If anything, he’s done the opposite. He’s here with me, eating takeout like we’re normal people.
And it’s wrecking me.
Because I can’t stop thinking about him.
Not Saint Shade—the acrobat-magician the whole internet drools over.
Him. Kade. The man who shows up at my shop in the dead of night, who knew my name, who dragged a corpse like it was no big deal, and then smiled at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world.
It should terrify me.
Instead, I can’t stop replaying the way his eyes were on me today. The way he looked at me tonight, like I am fire and he wants to worship the ashes I create.
I bite into a chip heaped with deliciousness to shut my brain up.
“You’re quiet,” he says after a while, watching me too closely.
“Thinking,” I mutter around the food.
“Dangerous habit.” He smirks.
I roll my eyes. “Says the man who literally flies upside down on silk ropes for a living.”
He chuckles, and it’s unfair how it softens him. “You’re not wrong.”
I sigh, licking the cheese from my fingers. “I just can’t figure out why you’re still here?”
His loaded chip pauses midair.
I push on, nerves fraying. “You saw what I did. Most sane people would’ve called the cops, not asked me out. So… why? I mean, I know we’ve got this mutual blackmail thing going on, but you invited me up to your penthouse.”
He sets his food down, meets my gaze dead on. There’s no humor in his eyes now, just raw steadiness. “Because I think you had a good reason.”
My throat goes tight.
He doesn’t know the half of it.
“Willow,” he says, voice like gravel. “You’re talking like you’re some monster hiding in plain sight. But I saw you. I watched you. And I don’t see a monster. I see a woman who refuses to let men like that keep getting away with shit.”
Heat prickles behind my eyes, and I hate it. Hate how much I want to believe that he believes what he said to be true.
I bite my lower lip to keep it steady. I take one steady, hard breath in. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet,” he says softly. His eyes are intense, as if he’s reading my soul. “But I want to.”
I push my tray away, because my appetite’s gone. It’s not the food—it’s the moment. The way he’s looking at me. The way his words cracked something open I usually keep padlocked shut.
“I told you a little bit about it, how I don’t just kill people for fun,” I start. I’m scared. Because once I crack this open a little, I’m afraid it will release the floodgates.
Not-Kade’s eyes stay steady, green and unblinking. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t scoff. He just waits.
I press my palms against the edge of the island, grounding myself in the cool stone. “The men I go after… they’re not random. They’re not just… convenient.” I swallow hard. “They’re men who use power the wrong way. Who manipulate. Abuse. Trap people. Especially women.”
My chest feels tight, like I’ve been running. But I’ve been running for so long, gasping for oxygen I couldn’t find.
Finally, I breathe out and let it spill.
“I was born into a cult.”
The words land heavy as granite in the sand. It’s a word you don’t use unless you’re making a joke. Only, when it comes to this story, it isn’t a fucking joke.
Kade’s brows lift, but he doesn’t say anything, just leans forward slightly, like I’m pulling him in without even trying.
“My parents had been in it for years. They joined together, though they didn’t realize what it was at the time.
But all the signs were there. The extreme beliefs.
The forced community. The money grabs. The inability to question authority.
The weird rituals. I was born there. Same with Iris and Opal.
But when I was six…” My words come out strained, tight.
I have to take a second, catch my breath.
I clear my throat. The memories come hazy, like static-filled TV, but the feelings are sharp as glass.
“The leader was this charismatic bastard. Everyone thought he was touched by God or fate or whatever. The devotion he instilled in people… I’ll never understand it.
But when I was six, he—” I stop. My tongue feels heavy.
Kade’s hands tighten where they rest on the counter, his knuckles whitening, like he suspects where this is going.
I force it out. “He asked my parents for my hand in marriage.”
The silence between us is thick enough to choke on. The Strip glitters through the windows, loud and alive, but up here in this penthouse, it feels like another world.
“What the fuck?” Kade barks out, his brows furrowing. This is not what he expected me to say.
“And he meant then. He wanted to marry me then, as a six-year-old.” The disgust is making my words shake.
My hands, too. I pin them between my knees.
“He already had three other women he called his wives. And then one child, she was only fourteen. And then there was me, six fucking years old.” My stomach turns, and suddenly I regret eating any of the nachos.
“My mom…” My chest tightens, but this part is easier, because it’s the part where she was the hero.
“She finally snapped awake. Saw it for what it was. She grabbed me, Iris, and Opal, and got us out. I don’t know what the discussion was, the reasons why, but our dad didn’t come with us.
We never saw my dad again. I don’t know if he’s still in there, if he’s dead, if he just didn’t care enough to leave with us.
But our mom took us out of there and never looked back. ”
Kade doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. His whole body is locked like a statue.
I laugh, brittle. “So, yeah. A grown ass man wanted to take me as his bride as a six-year-old. My foundation for men was pretty fucked up right out the gate.”
It takes him a second, but his voice comes out low and raw. “Willow…”