Page 102 of Heart Over Heels

“We’re here,” Oz announced, staring out the window like he’d been tracking our approach for miles.

The limo eased to a stop.

“Thank fuck,” Elliot muttered, scrambling for the door the moment it unlocked and nearly tripping in his hurry to escape.

I huffed a laugh and shook my head as the others poured out into the Dollhouse parking lot. Zephyr alone took his time, slinking slowly toward the exit while the light burned in his violet eyes.

I wondered if Daddy Beck knew he had a baby voyeur on his hands.

When only the two of us remained, I leaned in again and skimmed my lips over Mercer’s jaw. “We can take this inside if you want,” I whispered huskily. “But from what I’ve been told, this limo has more than enough space to accommodate?—”

“Wait,” Mercer said.

I barely registered it. Then he said it again—louder and sharper.

“Wait!”

That one went past me, out the open door and toward the dancers gathering near the club entrance.

Mercer slithered out from under me and bolted into the lot, his posture shifting from panicked to protective in the space of a breath. He started waving the dolls back, guiding them away from the building or a threat I had yet to see.

I left the car next. My feet hit cement, and my body followed an invisible thread straight to him.

Coming up behind him, I touched his shoulder, prompting him to face me.

“Mercy, what’s going on?”

He looked between me and the building, and something terrible pinched his eyes. “It’s not… it may not be safe,” he said,voice tight. “There might be a trap…” He swallowed hard.“Just… please let me check first, and then I’ll-I’ll tell you everything, okay?”

Everything.

The word tasted like déjà vu. Like empty promises and offers made.

Like men who promised me their everything, then took mine instead.

Mercer glanced over the group to ensure no one had crossed the invisible line he’d made before he commanded, “Wait here.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Mercer

The arcade trip had been half magic, half misery, and seeing it end like this was like watching a bomb drop from overhead, knowing no matter how far or fast you ran, you couldn’t escape the blast.

The dolls stood where I’d placed them in a group. Beck and Colette were among them, and the latter watched me with her head tilted like she could smell the shift in the air. She probably could. Hellhound senses and all.

I didn’t know what waited inside the club. It might have been an ambush or nothing at all, but I couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t riskthem.

So, I was outing myself. Blowing whatever cover I might have had and sabotaging any chance at sparing myself a barrage of questions and a crippling amount of blame.

Maybe it would be a relief to come clean.

Guilt had been gnawing at me for days. Eating away at my sanity and robbing me of sleep. Not that I slept like a normal person anymore. Working at the Dollhouse until dawnmeant night and day had swapped places, and my shame had consumed all the quiet hours in between.

Maybe Darby would understand.

I did it for my daughter—for Molly—the one person in this world I couldn’t fail. Darby knew what it was to love someone so deeply you’d stop your own heartbeat if it meant theirs kept going.