Page 87 of Brutal

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That was out of left field.

Neither of us has mentioned Victor Halstead before now, but we both know his death is what she’s investigating.

She’s back to business.

Like what just happened doesn’t change anything.

Like I don’t change it.

I shouldn’t care. Caring makes a person weak. So I tamp down any emotion, and I feel something colder.

I look down at her.

Really look this time.

And I see it.

She’s not backing down. Not from me. Not from any of it.

“You don’t want that answer,” I say.

And I walk out of her bedroom.

Because I know if I stay here… If I touch her again… If I let this go one step further…

I won’t walk it back.

So I leave before I take more than I already have.

And before she does the same to me.

22

DELANEY

From the bedroom, I hear the front door close.

He’s gone.

No hesitation. No lingering. No second look. Like what just happened doesn’t require one.

That should bother me. But it doesn’t. What bothers me is how easily I let him leave.

I sit there for a moment, still on the edge of the bed, my pulse not quite steady, my breath still uneven.

I feel no regret. Not even close. The mattress is still warm from where he lay. I can still feel him.

I shut that down and push to my feet.

I don’t look in the mirror. I already know what I’ll see. Naked body. Flushed skin. Swollen lips. A woman who just let Samson Vexley pin her to a wall, nearly choke her, and take what she didn’t stop him from taking.

Go lock your door.

I hear the words in Samson’s voice. In fact, I’m surprised as hell he didn’t say them before he left.

My pulse kicks again. Not from fear. From something else. Something I refuse to name.

Turn away from it.

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