Sophie Lark

Follow the rules at first. Confound your opponent in the middle. And in the end, finish him without hesitation, without mercy, and without thought.

Play the opening like a book, the middlegame like a magician, and the endgame like a machine.

Sometimes you have to reach out. Even when you know you’re only reaching into empty air.

I put my lips up against his ear and I whisper, “Do you want me, Cal?”

“I don’t want you,” he moans, his voice husky and raw. “I need you.”

“You’re mine, Aida,” Callum growls in my ear. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch you.”

Jack halts in place, frozen in the act of advancing upon me. His big, square face looks confused.

“If you EVER talk to my wife like that again, I’ll empty that clip in your chest.”

“Could be,” Dante says, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “The Butcher is touchy. Insanely prideful, easily offended. He’s probably angry that we didn’t offer Aida to him first.”

“Fucking gross,” Aida interjects. “For one thing, he’s old. For another, I’m not a fucking pog.”

“Either way, it’s too late,” I growl. “You’re mine. And whatever he wants as a consolation prize, he’s not getting it.”

I kiss grab Aida’s face and I kiss her. I kiss her so long and so hard that we sink down under the water, then rise to the surface again, our mouths still locked together.

“You’re incredible,” I tell her. “Also, completely insane. You should have just run!”

Aida fixes me with her most serious expression.

“I would never abandon you,” she says

“Neither would I,” I promise her. “I’ll always find you, Aida.”

She kisses me again, her lips chilly and trembling, but still the softest thing I’ve ever touched.

I don’t grab her arm, because I can see how weak her grip is. I’m not dragging her down with me.

“I love you, Aida,” I say.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” she yells back at me. “You grab my arm, or I’ll jump in after you!”