The next four weeks creep slowly past without incident. I still haven’t seen Jones although his doctor does call me daily, as promised. Kill kept his word. I’m free from my contract. I half expected him—wanted him—to come back for me, to change his mind and forcefully take me back to Rockcliffe House, but he hasn’t. I haven’t seen him or anyone associated with him.

In fact, it’s almost like those two weeks didn’t happen at all.

Almost.

Except that I can’t forget them. Can’t forget how they made me feel. How he made me feel. And I can’t help but wonder if he walked away because of what he found out when he went to Florida. Because he said as much, didn’t he? Not only heard but saw.

The news reported Judge Callahan’s disappearance three weeks ago, but the story isn’t a headliner anymore. People move on. They forget. At least these sort of things, they do.

Turned out Kill was right about one thing. It doesn’t make a difference to know that he’s dead. That he suffered when he died. It doesn’t make any difference at all because the dragons, they’re inside us. Inside me and Jones.

Having mine slain didn’t make a difference in the end.

Almost having a hero didn’t matter.

Almost doesn’t matter.

I shut the lid of my laptop and look around my dark apartment. I can’t work. I haven’t been able to since everything happened. I think about Jones and wish I could talk to him. Just hear from him that he’s okay. Even though I know it’s for his own good, it still hurts to stay away.

It’s late and I didn’t bother to turn on any lights. The sounds of the city fill my apartment and street light filters in from between the slats of the blinds. I get up, go to my bedroom, switch on the lights there.

Tonight, I’m going to go through with it.

Tonight, I’m going to take back my power. My control.

Tonight I’m going to put Killian Black out of my mind, even if it means breaking the one condition he gave me.

From inside my closet, I find one of the dresses I used to wear when I went to The Black Swan. After stripping, I put it on and look at my reflection. The little pink dress is too short and too tight. Too cheap. It exposes too much of me. It says that I’m available. That I’m on the prowl.

I pull my hair into a ponytail and apply makeup. Heavy makeup with dark lipstick. The makeup, too, matches the dress. It sends the same message.

Not bothering with stockings, I slip on a pair of fuck me pumps. They hurt my feet, but I need that too right now. I don’t stare too long at my reflection. I don’t want to do this but I have to. This is the only way I’ll be free of him. I just need to go back to the way things were. To a time before him.

I put on a long coat and head out to my car, which is parked around the corner. This is the third time I’m going to The Black Swan, except that this time, I’m determined to enter the bar. The last two times I turned around and drove back home. Like I’m keeping my end of the bargain. My promise to him. Tonight though, I’m going through with this. My time with Kill is up anyway. He can’t expect me to never fuck again. I’m sure he doesn’t care at all who I fuck, actually. If he did, he wouldn’t have walked away.

I arrive too quickly and I have to force myself to get out of the car. The parking lot is full and lights flicker inside the building. It’s run down, outside and in, the wood looking like it’ll collapse at any time and maybe that’s part of the appeal for me. I get to the doors, pull one open. I’d forgotten how the scent of cigarette smoke mixed with that of cheap whiskey. How it clung to your clothes and hair for days.

I see the eyes that turn my way when I step inside. Scanning the room for my prey, I make my way to an empty stool at the bar. That’s how I look at the men here. Prey. That’s all. They will serve a purpose. Feed my need.

“Whiskey neat,” I order, not sure why because I’m not a whiskey drinker, but tonight, when the bartender sets the chipped glass in front of me and pours, I swallow it all and signal for a second.

The liquid burns my throat. It’s not like Kill’s whiskey. The burn of the good stuff is different. But that doesn’t matter. I swivel around in my seat, lean my back against the bar. As I scan the eyes of the many men here, I zero in on one. A tall, blond, and not so handsome stranger.

He’s standing against the wall with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-full beer. He raises his glass when he sees me looking.

I cock my head to the side. Finish my drink. Stand.

I’m still wearing my coat, but I unbutton it, slide it off as I turn and walk toward the bathrooms. I don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

The ladies room door opens and a woman stumbles out, gives me a nasty once over as she lets the door drop rather than passing it to me. She can go fuck herself. I enter, go to the farthest stall. It’s the biggest one.

I hear the door open behind me and I turn to find the man standing there awkwardly.

Reaching into my pocket, I take out a condom.

I feel a little queasy to do it, but this is why I came. This is how I’ll take back what I gave to Kill.

He gives me an uneasy smile.

I set the condom on the counter. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before,” I taunt, then push into the bathroom stall and reach under my dress to take off my panties, but I can’t.

Footsteps follow. I hear the ripping of the package. I take a deep breath in, try to calm myself.

What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t what I want. It’s not the same. It’s not—

But the stall door opens and the stranger stands there looking me over. When he grins, I think he needs braces. He undoes his belt, pulls it apart, unbuttons his pants. Beige pants with a stain on one thigh. Mustard maybe.

I shake my head. This isn’t what I want.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

I push past him, but he catches me. “I change my mind,” I say with as much strength as I can muster, realizing for the first time in all the years I’ve been doing this how dangerous it is. How lucky I’ve been.

“Hold on there, sweetheart—”

Sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that.”

He’s licking his lips and he’s too close, too disgustingly close.

“Let go of me.”

But he doesn’t release my wrist while sliding his other hand down my hip, up my thigh.

“Don’t touch me!” I shove against him, but he’s big and he’s not as drunk as I thought earlier.

“You got me all worked up,” he says, hiking my dress up. “You want it rough? That what it is?” He spins me around, shoves me painfully against the wall, shoves my dress to my waist.

“Let me go!” His dirty hand covers my mouth and I hear him unzip his pants, hear his breathing change when his fingers slide into the waistband of my panties. “No! Stop!”

The bathroom door slams open then and before I know it, someone pulls him off me. I turn to face the room just as the back of the man’s head crashes into the mirror over top of the sink, shattering it. With a scream, I turn my back as shards rain down.

“She said stop, you fucking asshole.” It’s Kill. He’s here. When the man slides sideways from the counter, Kill draws him up by the collar. “What part of no didn’t you understand, dickhead?”

The man doesn’t even get a single hit in. Kill is pummeling him, his fury fierce, out of control.

“Kill, stop!” I’m calling out, trying to drag him off. “It’s enough! It’s enough!”

Hugo walks in then, gives me a look. I realize then why no one has busted into the bathroom because they have to hear what’s going on.

Kill straightens, turns his angry gaze to me. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head no.

“Good.” He turns to Hugo. “Take this asshole out back and make sure he learns a lesson.”

Hugo is already dragging him away and Kill takes a step toward me.

I back up, the violence in his eyes frightening.

“I gave you one condition,” he says, looking me over from head to toe. I realize my dress is still bunched around my waist when he tugs it roughly down.

“I…the four weeks—”

“Bullshit. I didn’t put an expiration date on it.”

I’m backed against the wall and he’s got me trapped.

“This is dangerous, Cilla. These men—”

“Are dangerous? Like you?”

“I’m not dangerous to you.”

“You’re the worst for me.”

He cups my chin, forces me to look up as he searches my face. I do the same. I’ve missed him. I’ve missed him so much.

“What were you doing?” he asks, the look in his eyes no longer angry but something else. Something tender.

“Taking back control. I thought.”

He shakes his head. “What made you come in this time?”

“How did you know?” I ask.

“I’ve had men on you.”

“You’ve been watching me?” He doesn’t reply. I shake my head. “You always liked watching, didn’t you? You install cameras in my apartment too? Sorry it’s been such a snore.”

What I say has obviously annoyed him because he takes my arm roughly and walks me toward the door. “Let’s go. We’re done here.”

“I’m not done here!” I dig my heels in.

He stops. “You are done here. For good.”

“You can’t do this.”

“Like hell I can’t. I change my mind.”

“What?”

He gives me a wicked grin, and before I know it, he hoists me up over his shoulder and smacks my ass hard.

“Ow!”

He walks through the door, into the bar which is remarkably quiet all of a sudden. “I said I change my mind. I don’t release you from your contract. I’m taking you back, in fact.”

A cold gust of air hits the backs of my thighs when we step outside. Hugo comes around the corner rubbing the knuckles of one hand, and I get the feeling he sees everything even when he doesn’t seem to be looking at anything particular at all.

We reach Kill’s car and he opens the door. He lowers me down to stand. “You can’t just take me.”

“Really? Why not? Who’s going to stop me?” he asks before shoving me into the backseat and sliding in beside me. Hugo closes the door and Kill turns to me. “I can do whatever I want, Cilla.” He watches me intently.

Hugo starts to drive.

“You’re self-destructing,” he says.

“What do you care? You walked away.”

“That bar is filthy. Fucking a limp-dick stranger in a bathroom stall? That’s not you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know everything about you. I know your deepest, darkest secrets. And I know you need a hero. A dark one.”

I stop at that, press the heels of my hands into my eyes. When I pull them away, I find him watching me. This is so fucked up. I’m so fucked up.

“What do you want from me?”

He leans in close, his gaze sweeps over my face, pausing at my mouth for a long minute before returning to my eyes.

“I already told you. I want everything. Every fucking thing.”