Kill Switch (Devil's Night, #3)

by Penelope Douglas

I knew it was coming. Once the sex happened, she didn’t want to be away from me. And in all honesty, I didn’t want to be away from her.

I just needed to make sure she listened to me. That she heard me out and couldn’t run away. That there was no one around to interfere before she was able to process it. If I wanted to keep this, it was my only chance.

I darted my eyes to hers. “Don’t let me go,” I told her, breathing hard. “No matter what you hear or what they say, don’t let me go.”

“Winter!” her father shouted from downstairs, suddenly in the house. And I dove in, brushing her lips with mine as he charged up the stairs. “Don’t let me go,” I whispered.

But I didn’t care about that as much as I worried that she wasn’t responding to me. Please don’t leave me. “Winter, listen to me,” I said. “It’s not what you think.” “It’s Damon Torrance?” she asked the other men.

She would never dance like an innocent again. She’d never have the wonder on her face she had when she was on that motorcycle. I’d changed her forever. I’d bent and twisted and broken everything that made her the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.

“Just wanted to hold you.” His voice loomed somewhere over my head as my eyes started to close. “And say I’m really fucking sor—”

“Don’t let me go,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t let go.” “I’m gonna . . .” My mouth was so dry. “I’m gonna send you to jail.”

“Let me go,” he mocked me, repeating my words. “Why can’t you shut up? Why can’t you all just shut the fuck up?” “I will hate you if you do this to me,” I fought. “I’ll despise you and never stop trying to escape you, because I could never love you. Because you’re sick, and I hate the way you make me feel! I could never love you.”

He rushed up to me, grabbing the nape of my neck. “You were in love with me.” “It wasn’t the real you. It was nothing but an act!” I slapped his hand away and shoved him in the chest. “You shouldn’t have killed her,” I said, digging deep for the worst fucking things that would ever come out of my mouth. “She was the only one who was ever going to love you. She was the only one who wanted to touch you and take care of you and be around you!”

“Everyone else you have to hold prisoner!” I snarled. “You have nothing and no one! No one can stand you!” “S-s . . . stop,” he gasped, sucking in air. “Just please stop.” “I hate you!”

“You taught me how to survive that day,” he said. “You taught me how to be strong and how to get to the next minute. And the next and the next. I could never forget, and when you came back in high school, and I had changed into this, because I’d seen so much shit,” he went on, “and my desires had morphed into something ugly and twisted, but I’d fucking survived nonetheless and didn’t swallow the bad for anyone anymore, because you had taught me how to get rid of the shit. I finally craved one more thing I realized had been missing when I laid eyes on you again.”

not wanting to feel the shit I felt when I was nineteen when I let myself . . . want her. When I let myself fucking love her. When I let my guard down and believed what was happening between us was stronger than anything and guys like me could have a completely different life.

And instead of sticking to the plan and making her hate that she wanted me, I hated that I still wanted her. None of it was a lie, except my name. It was real, and I wanted it again. I fucking loved her.

but Damon and I can’t hold, and I flail, slipping out of his fingers. His eyes meet mine, and time freezes for a split second as we stare at each other, knowing I’m gone. I slip, scream, and fall, his face the last thing I see before I see nothing at all.

Oh, my God. Tears pooled as I realized. He hadn’t taken away the fountain. He’d replaced it. My eyes stung. It was a fountain maze.

My head fell back, and everything crumbled. My heart, my head, my hate, and my grudge, and I just wanted to see him. To feel him and put his forehead to mine and feel him breathe. To have him pick me up and hold me in here, where the water and the walls were high enough to hide us. I loved him. I still loved him.

“Don’t ever leave my body,” he chanted again. “I won’t,” I whispered. “Say you love me.” I swallowed, my throat so dry. “Say you love me,” he demanded.

“I love you,” I told him, surprised by how easily it came. “I love you, Damon.”

And he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and this was it. Right here. Everything I wanted to feel; it brought me e...

“What’s your tattoo?” I asked quietly, remembering how my friend noticed he had one. He didn’t say anything for a moment, or ask how I knew, but then he answered, “A decaying snowflake.” I raised my eyebrows. A decaying . . . “Why?” I asked. “Because of ‘Winter’ by Walter de la Mare,” he replied softly. “Something still beautiful, even after what I did to her.”

hoping that tomorrow would be more of this with no doubt between us. “I do love you,” I told him again before I drifted off. Just so he knew.

“People think because I’m blind that I’m dumb,” she told me. “They treat me like a child. I want to prove I’m capable. That I’m someone.” “You should’ve been strong,” I replied, my fingers freezing now all of a sudden. “If anyone knew what a vile cunt this

world could be, it was us. But all I needed was you, and all you should’ve needed was me, and fuck all the rest. We would’ve done it. We would’ve won.” “I came back,” she said again. “I was barely gone fifteen minutes. I came right back.” She kissed my temple. “And we will win. We will.”

“You’re not dying,” Winter argued. “You haven’t even told me you love me yet.” Oh, that. “Someday,” I teased. “Damon, wake up.” She jostled me. “Come on, we’re doing this, right? We’re in love. We’re doing this.”

“Whatever is after you is failing,” I told him. “You’re not fucked. You’re the strongest of us all, because you’ve survived the most.” I failed to destroy him. Miles Anderson failed. Two and a half years in prison failed.

And nothing felt so good as to hold nearly everything I cared most about in the world right here.

He sucked in a breath and tightened his arms around me. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” he whispered over my lips again. I held his face in my hands. God, I love you.

If I ever thought I couldn’t do something with her, then I wasn’t doing it at all. “Your place is at my side,” I told her. “Say it.” She whispered, “My place is at your side.” “Louder.” I shook her gently, but my tone was firm. “My woman doesn’t ask permission. She’s a force. Say it louder.” Her chin started to tremble, but her voice burst out strong. “My place is at your side.”

“Schraeder Fane was out of the country for a few months,” he explained, “leaving his pretty new wife at home alone.” He tipped his chin down at me. “I just couldn’t resist having my way with his pretty little bride.”

My father continued, “When Schraeder came home to a pregnant wife, there was no hiding what I’d done. He was prepared to raise you as his own and leave town with his little family, but I couldn’t have that. Real men don’t let other men raise their sons.”

“So the night you were born, I came and claimed what was mine,” he stated. “She screamed and cried. And then spent the next several years depressed and drunk. I really didn’t think she’d take it so badly, but . . . things got a little better for her when Rika came along.”

She wanted me even with what my father did to her? Her husband wanted me anyway?

What if she didn’t like what she was seeing? What if that’s why she never approached me? What if she saw me growing up and thought I was turning out exactly like him? What if she was scared of me?

The weight in my gut started to dissipate, and I wasn’t running. I wanted to see this. I wanted to make sure he died.

“Go with Banks and Kai,” I told her. I wanted her out of Thunder Bay tonight. In the city, with new air and space. Away from this shit. She held in her tears as she kissed me and whispered, “That’s not your life anymore. I don’t leave.” I couldn’t help the smile that broke out as she kissed me again. I wouldn’t admit it to her, but that fucking made my night.

It dawned on me after I arrived that, while I was happy she was out of harm’s way with my father gone, I still didn’t want her walking through this world without me. I didn’t want to miss anything. For that reason, maybe I regretted doing what I did.

“Who’s your employer?” I asked, suspicious. “Who’s paying you? Who’d pay the city off to look the other way about this?” He just stared at me, unblinking, and then answered, sounding almost serene. “Someone who wants you to have a chance, Mr. Torrance.” And I sat back in my chair, my eyes finally open and knowing the answer without Cason telling me. Christiane Fane.

Unfortunately, not as fine as I wanted, though. “I have no money, no home, a wife, and a probably pregnant girlfriend,” I said, trying to tease.

It doesn’t hurt, though. Not at all. It actually feels kind of good, because the annoying sting of the cut is suddenly gone. Just gone. Like a kill switch.