Page 68 of Shadow Of Sin

Three months ago, Dmitri walked into my life with a folder and a smile and turned me into a tool. Two weeks ago, Wolfe walked into my life and turned me into a spy.

But in this moment, I’m not thinking about myself. I look at Wolfe. “You’re scared,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never seen you like this before. Your thumb stopped. You’re not tapping, you’re not moving, you’re not doing any of the things you normally do when your brain is firing.” I hold his gaze. “You’re completely still. And you’re never completely still.”

His jaw tightens but the rest of him doesn’t move. It’s like his whole body locked up and doesn’t remember how to restart.

“That call hit you on a different level,” I say. “And that’s the part that’s freaking you out, isn’t it? Not the threat. The fact that it landed. The fact that Dmitri found the one thing that actually gets to you.”

His expression is shadowed by something raw I haven’t seen before.

“Nobody touches you,” he says in a low voice. It’s the voice he used when he shut down Ronan. “Nobody gets near you or Sal. I don’t care what it costs.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” I fold my arms. “And that terrifies me.”

We stand there. My kitchen. His chair. The knife on the counter. The space between us that’s been shrinking for weeks.

“You should go,” I say, twisting my hair. “Make your plans. Run your scenarios. Do the Wolfe thing.”

He stands up. The chair legs scrape against the worn wood floor. He walks to the door.

“Wolfe.”

He stops, his hand on the frame.

I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore.

“I didn’t mean that. Don’t go.”

It comes out before I can stop it. Two words that just fall out of my mouth like they’ve been sitting impatiently behind my teeth since Tuesday night, just waiting for the lock to fall open.

He stands there, half in, half out.

“The calls are made,” I say. “Sal is covered. There’s nothing else you can do tonight that you can’t do from here.”

“Eva—”

“Please.”

I hate how it sounds to my own ears. Needy. Exposed. Everything I swore I’d never be again. But Dmitri just told this man that I’m expendable, and Sal is a thread ready to be snipped, and the only thing standing between me and the dark is a guy in a Metallica shirt who admitted he’s scared of losing me.

I’m so goddamn tired of being afraid alone.

He closes the door, flips the deadbolt, then fastens the chain.

My heart leaps into my throat when his eyes latch onto mine. I glance down. His hands are clenched at his sides.

I close the space between us and reach for one. I uncurl his fingers and press my palm flat against his. His hand is bigger than I expected. Warm. I can feel the pulse in his wrist hammering against my skin.

“Your heart rate is elevated,” he says.

“No shit, Wolfe.”