Page 73 of Reaper's Desire

"Fine. I don't care anymore." I shove my feet into my shoes and grab the door handle. "At least they're not making me trust them while planning my murder!"

"I wasn't planning your murder. I refused the contract once I knew. I chose you over everything—my reputation, my life, my entire fucking existence. I chose you."

"You chose to lie to me. You chose to manipulate me. You chose to make me think I was safe when I was sleeping next to the man who was hired to kill me."

"I was keeping you safe—" Julian stares at me, and I can see the devastation on his face, the desperate need to fix this. But there's no fixing this. There's no coming back from this level of betrayal.

"Isabelle." He takes a step toward me, his hand outstretched. "Please. Just listen?—"

"Don't touch me." I yank the door open. "Don't come near me. Don't follow me. Just—just leave me alone."

"I can't do that. If I leave you alone, you'll die."

"I don't care!" Tears spill over my lashes. I hate that I'm crying in front of him, but I can't seem to stop. My emotions are out of control, and I just need to get out of this room. "I don't care anymore! I just want to get away from you! I'd rather be dead than be with you."

He flinches like I've struck him. For a moment, his expression looks utterly broken, like I've reached in and torn out his heart. I stare at him, at this man who was hired to kill me and chose not to. Who's been protecting me while lying to me. Who's risking everything to keep me alive.

And I hate him. I hate him for lying, and manipulating me, and making me trust him. For making me fall for him while knowing the truth the entire time.

I hate him for being exactly what he is—a killer who was hired to end my life.

So I run. Down the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the cheap carpet, past other hotel room doors, past the elevator, toward the stairs. I take them two at a time, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I don't have a plan. I know by now that using my credit cards will leave a trail, and truthfully, deep down, I know Julian is right. Without him, I'm a dead woman.

But I can't stand being near him a moment longer.

I burst out of the stairwell into the hotel lobby, then push through the front doors and out into the Prague night. My vision is blurred, and my chest is tight, and I can barely breathe. But I keep running, away from the hotel, Julian… everything, until my feet hurt and my lungs burn and my tears finally run dry.

I fell for a man who was hired to kill me, and now I'm alone in a foreign city with assassins hunting me and no one to protect me.

But at least I know the truth now.

19

JULIAN

Iwatch her run.

She grabs her bag, her clothes barely on, her face streaked with tears and rage and betrayal. She doesn't look back or give me a chance to explain further… she just runs. The door slams behind her, and I'm left standing in the hotel room with my pants still undone.

I should let her go. That's what she wants. That's what she asked for. She made it clear—she never wants to see me again. She'd rather die alone than spend another second with me, and that makes me feel worse than I've ever felt in my life before.

But… all the feelings that I've been fighting, the ones that made me want to spill so much more to her on that balcony than I did, to pour out all the pain I've kept locked in my heart and hope she'd somehow understand or at least comfort me… those all come rushing in. Like air filling empty lungs, I feel them all surging up inside of me, now that she's not here.

I wantedcomfort. I locked away the longing for that when my mother died. No one could ever comfort me like her, and without her, after what I'd become to try to save her, I couldn't imagine that any woman ever could. And anyway, that would just beasking for more loss. More pain. As much pain as I've inflicted on others, I couldn't imagine any just world would ever allow me to have any peace and happiness of my own.

But now…

I feel things for her that I've never felt before. Things I didn't even feel the one time I thought I was in love, back when I was just a stupid teenager going into the military and had no idea what the life ahead of me was going to be like.

I should let her go. But I can't. Because the moment I stop protecting her, she dies. Without me, Isabelle is on a ticking clock that will run out quickly. The mafia doesn't forgive or forget. And they sure as hell don't give up on a contract just because the target runs away crying.

They'll find her and kill her. Unless I stop them.

I stand in the empty hotel room, my chest tight, my hands clenched into fists. I stand there for ten minutes, wrestling with all the conflicting emotions inside of me, and then I move.

I dress quickly, shoving my wallet back into my jeans, and head out of the room. I take the stairs two at a time, my mind racing through possibilities. She's emotional. She's not thinking clearly. She'll make mistakes—use her credit card, take a taxi that can be traced, go somewhere obvious. She'll leave a trail, and I'll follow it.