Because I need to believe it.
Because the alternative—that she'll betray me again, that I'll have to kill her, that I'll lose the first person besides Mila who's made me feel something in five years—that's unbearable.
So I believe her.
Believe that this—her in my arms, her body still trembling from orgasm, her eyes looking at me like maybe I'm not just a monster—is real.
Even though I know better.
Even though every instinct screams that she's still hiding something.
I choose to believe.
Because addiction doesn't care about logic.
And I'm addicted to her now.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Dangerously.
I kiss her forehead and pull her closer.
"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
Chapter nine
Valerie
The burner phone rings at 2:47 AM.
I'm lying in my own bed for the first time in hours—Lev finally let me leave around midnight, after holding me in his arms like I was something precious instead of a spy he caught red-handed.
My body still aches. Still feels him inside me. Still trembles with aftershocks every time I shift position.
The phone rings again, vibrating against my nightstand, and dread pools in my stomach like ice water.
Patrick.
I grab the phone with shaking hands and answer. "Hello?"
"You missed your deadline." His voice is cold. Controlled. The kind of calm that precedes violence. "I gave you forty-eight hours for security codes. That was three days ago."
"I'm sorry, I couldn't—there was no opportunity—"
"Don't give me excuses." The temperature in his voice drops even lower. "I've been very patient with you, Valerie. Very understanding about your situation. But my patience has limits."
"Please, I just need more time—"
"No. No more time. No more chances." Papers rustle in the background. "You want to know what happens when you fail me?"
"Patrick, please—"
My phone buzzes. Incoming photo.
I pull it away from my ear with trembling hands and open the message.