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I pull back enough to look at him. “Did you have anything to do with them?”

He shakes his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “No. But I wish I had. When you were in the hospital, I hated seeing you in that dull gown every day. That wasn’t you.” His fingers keep tracing the lightning bolt, almost reverent. “You’re all color and light, Cammie. That’s what I saw the first night we met. Your brightness is what I’ve been missing in my life.”

“Yeah,” I say, a little breathless. “I figured the clothes were Piers. The price tags were completely out of control.”

Finn laughs softly. “Probably.”

I study his face for a second, then it clicks. “Wait… you’re my pillow guy.”

His cheeks flush.

I laugh, delighted. “Oh my god, I couldn’t figure out who kept leaving them. They never smelled like anyone, so I had no clue. It was you?”

“I didn’t touch them,” he admits, ears turning redder. “I picked them out, but I didn’t want to put my scent on them. I didn’t want to make assumptions about what you want from me.”

I cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his warm cheeks. “I want it all, Finn. Including your scent.”

Finn’s eyes soften. He leans in and presses his face to my neck, scent marking me slowly, thoroughly. Warm rain and fresh green leaves bloom across my skin, sinking in deep. When he pulls back, his eyes are shining.

I rest my forehead against his. “You’ve been trying to make this my home since the moment I got here, haven’t you?”

He nods, no hesitation. “I have.”

And just like that, I know. Finn sees me. The real me. Not the bright clothes and loud personality. He sees the essence of who I am. And he’s down bad for it.

I kiss him again, pouring everything I’m feeling into it. When we finally break apart, I stay curled against his chest, his arms tight around me, and let myself believe that this could really work.

thirty

Leith

The highway hums under the tires as I drive. The sun is starting to dip low, painting everything in that hazy orange light that usually calms me down. Usually.

I've been driving for hours. Checked in with a couple of my guys on a few jobs, made sure everything was running smoothly. But mostly I needed to be out of the house. Away from her gravity. It's too strong. Too consuming. Every time I get close I feel myself getting pulled under, wanting things I shouldn't let myself want yet.

My phone rings through the car's system. I hit the button on the steering wheel without looking.

"Drake."

"Leith." The detective doesn't waste time on a greeting. We've known each other long enough that he doesn't bother with pleasantries.

"Any news?"

There's a short pause on the line. I already know what he's going to say.

"Still no trace of her," Drake confirms. "Shayna Cummins has gone underground. Her apartment's been abandoned. Neighbors haven't seen her since the assault. The Overstreet pack swears they haven't heard from her either."

I make a low, disgusted sound. "Yeah? How'd that beta take it?"

Drake huffs a dry laugh. "Seemed a little down about it, actually. Kept wringing his hands like he missed her or some shit."

"Little pissant fucker," I mutter. "If he's hiding her—"

"He's not," Drake cuts in. "We've had eyes on all three of them. They're too stupid and too scared to lie this well. She's gone dark on her own."

I flex my hands on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. The image of Cammie lying in that hospital bed flashes through my mind. Pale, hurting, and too fucking still. That crazy bitch put her there. And now she's vanished like smoke.

"Keep looking," I say.