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For someone who bakes so much, Cassandra is not getting any better.
“I would like my book back,” I say in what feels like a very mature tone. Hans shakes his head. Umm… I hadn’t really considered him not agreeing.
I lied to her earlier when she asked if I’d had dinner. I had two ham sandwiches. I’m not the least bit hungry. But I can’t turn down her food.
She mouths the word butterfly before shaking her head. “You’re coming with me.”
“Because you remind me of one. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. Too fragile for this awful world.” I slide one hand up to palm the back of her neck. “A pretty little butterfly I can’t help but want to protect.”
Her mouth breaks into the widest smile, and it hits me right in the heart.
My girl isn’t going to let him touch her. And I don’t want her to have to struggle with her bag.
My pretty little Butterfly shot him straight through the Adam’s apple.
“I haven’t touched another woman since you moved in across the street. Got it?” His intensity is intoxicating. “Got it,” I whisper.
I’m still a little salty about him standing feet away from my fucking wife covered in grenades.
“That gray hair your parents have, I bet that’s all from you.” “I’m not that bad.” I huff. “You are,” he argues.
It’s like hearing a song for the first time after years and years but remembering every lyric the second it starts.
I tell her she may have saved my life tonight. And that I’d give my own to keep her safe. And it feels good to tell her.
I slam my elbow forward again. This motherfucker ruined the first thing I ever received from Cassandra.
He touched something Cassandra touched. Life fades from his eyes.
“I can carry something,” Cassandra offers. I point to the flashlight sitting on the edge of the bench. “You’re in charge of the light.”
She tenses under my touch. Instead of pulling my hand away, I grip her harder. “Butterfly, I’ll never hurt you.”
I’ve fought side by side with Karmine’s army. I have no problem letting women do whatever they want. I know they’re more than capable of taking care of themselves. But Cassandra is mine. She’s mine and that makes it different.
Hans sighs. “I’m the one who blew up her house.” I place my hand on his thigh. “Um…” Dom looks back and forth between us. “On purpose?”
“How’d you behead him?” Nero asks, still holding the small knife. “Schmord,” Hans replies with his mouth full of cookies.
“What if what, Butterfly?” “What if I didn’t get it replaced?” she whispers. That tightness squeezes even more. “What would you do instead?” Her chest rises and falls. “Have your baby.”
If I’m within range, Hans is going to touch me. And I love it.
And when I read my name on her lips, my soul splinters.
I have to see him. I have to let him see me. And there he is. My protector. My man. Running across the tarmac.
Cassandra is on that plane. My heart is on that fucking plane.
I hope I puked all over him. I hope those were his favorite pants. And I hope he never gets the smell out.
Cool, everyone here is a piece of shit. I hope Hans kills all of them.
Too far for me to kick him. “I’m Gabriel Marcoux.” But he is close enough for me to spit on. So I do.
Nothing new has appeared, and still nothing hard enough to break a mirror. Then I pause. Fucking duh. I yank the drawer all the way out and shimmy it loose.
“I have the butterfly.”
There’s an open door just ahead, and I swear I’ll give my life for hers if she can just be okay.
The gun in my hand is shaking. For the first time in twenty years, I’m shaking.
It’s truly done. My beautiful Butterfly ended it. She took my burden and made it her own.
I need to find the realtor who sold Cassandra 1304 Holly Court and give her a million dollars. Maybe four.
“That girl is a handful. She needs someone dangerous to protect her.
“They’re good.” She grins and pops the last bite in her mouth. Rob lifts Aspen’s hand to his mouth and licks the crumbs off her fingers.
“Will you do me the honor of telling your terrifying brother that we’re already married?”
I’m not the same. But I became who I had to be.
