“The fun is over. End it,” I say with a calm I don’t feel. That’s the thing about plotting chaos. You feel it, but you don’t show it — it’s the most lethal type to ever exist. “Why would I?” Aiden flings the towel over his shoulder. “Because she’s mine now.” My throat closes around the word. Mine. How long have I waited to say that out loud? Years. Fucking years.
