Page 2 of This Violent Reckoning

Just her.

I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in, steady as a God damn rock. She can fight it all she wants, build her walls as high as she can. I gently begin swaying to the soft beat that fills the lodge, and with every sway our bodies make, I try to speak with my body what my mouth can’t put into words.

I’m still here.

And I know the truth.

She was never broken.

She was built to survive.

And she’s mine.

She’s always been mine.

We’re not even dancing anymore, but I don’t move. I stand there, wrapped in the quiet of her presence, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she doesn’t seem out of reach. She’s not lost to the pain and devastation that’s kept us apart, that’s built itself into a wall I haven’t been able to climb. And I’m begging her—silently, desperately—to come back to me.

A throat clears behind us, snapping the moment in half. Lou blinks slowly, and I feel it—the walls she’s worked so hard to build slamming back into place. She steps away from my touch, and just like that, the space between us stretches wide again as she turns and walks toward the exit. My heart drops, but I force myself to keep it together.

"Please don’t go, wildflower," I beg, my voice rough and desperate.

And then I feel it—my mama’s hand on my arm, light but firm, a quiet anchor in the chaos. She doesn’t speak, but her touch says everything—she’s here, watching, understanding this moment better than I ever will.

I pass Bash to my mama, and she looks me dead in the eye. “Go after her.”

I don’t think twice. I’m already moving, catching up to Lou just as she slips outside. Her damn hair glows in the moonlight like a beacon, pulling me toward her, no matter how much space she tries to put between us.

“Louisianna! Stop fucking running from me!”

She moves even faster, looking to escape me, but she can’t.

She can’t escape this.

She can’t escape me.

I close the distance between us in a heartbeat, my hand catching her arm and gently, but firmly, spinning her around to face me. Before that sharp, vicious tongue of hers can cut me down, I step in, crowding her, pressing her back into the cool night air. I silence her with nothing but the weight of how close I am, the space between us now charged with something impossible to ignore.

The night air bites at my skin, sharp and crisp, a reminder that the world is still and cold around us. The lake stretches out behind her, a dark mirror reflecting the pale moonlight, its surface rippling softly as if it, too, feels the tension between us. The silence hums, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of night birds, while everything else fades into the background.

But I don’t let go. Not for a second.

Because when someone is your beginning and your end, you don’t let them go without a fight.

Louisiana Wright is the beginning of everything for me. I’ve loved this infuriating woman for most of my life, and I am done riding shotgun while she throws a decade-long temper tantrum. I am tired of pretending—of this whole damn charade between us. Watching Evie and Maddox today made it clear: I want that too. Not with just anybody…I wanted it with her.

My body is flush against hers, every inch of her warmth sinking into me. I lean down, breathing her in—her scent wraps around me, familiar and intoxicating. It’s her skin, her hair, all of her. And just like that, the world drops away as I gaze down at her.

There’s only the pounding of my pulse and the fire that’s always burned hot and untamed between us.

“I’m done letting you walk away from me.”

She squares her shoulder and lifts her chin defiantly. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re done with.”

“Good because I don’t give a fuck what you want.” I snake an arm around her waist and pull her flush against me. She pushes at me and tries her best to wiggle free, but it does no good. I’m not giving up that easily. Then it hits me—that scent, it slams into me.

Freshly bloomed Magnolias and a hint of paint. Fucking hell. That scent is 100 percent her. I drop my head and breathe it in like I need it to stay upright, hell maybe I do.

“Fuck,” I growl against her slim throat. “Keep doing that, wildflower. I dare you.”