Page 43 of Brutal
Not a promise. Not a refusal.
Good enough.
I open the door. I could walk her to her car. I should offer.
I don’t.
She steps out into the cooler air.
She turns once at the top of the steps, as if she might say something else.
She doesn’t.
Then she walks to her car.
I watch her this time.
Not the whole way.
Just long enough.
I return to my office and close the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the house.
Silence fills the space.
I stand at the desk for a moment and then sit. My thumb finds the ring before I consciously think about it. The edge of the engraving presses against my skin as I turn it slowly.
The key.
Always the key.
I run my thumb along the teeth, feeling the uneven cuts, the deliberate asymmetry.
I think of her fingers hovering just above the carving on the wall.
Not touching.
Some doors aren’t meant to be opened.
The words sound different now.
Less like a rule. More like a challenge.
I turn the ring again.
And again.
The metal warms under my touch.
I’ve never had trouble opening anything I’ve set my mind to. I’ve never left a question unanswered once it’s taken hold.
Delaney Cross is becoming a question.
And I don’t like leaving things unanswered.
Especially not when they stand in front of me and look back without flinching.
I still feel the echo of her presence in the room.
