Sweet Salvation (Ruthless Games 3)

I go willingly, keeping pace with his long strides.

This won’t be the last time we see Victoria or Caleb. There’s still a shitload of stuff to figure out.

But right now, I need to go home.

As soon as we get back to Theo’s place, all four of us head upstairs.

We don’t even discuss it, just like the guys didn’t have to speak before they pulled me down onto the sofa with them back at Victoria’s house.

We need to be together right now. As bone-tired as I am, I know I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t have all three of them with me.

Touching me.

Breathing the same air as me.

Reminding me with every small movement that they’re still alive.

I strip off my borrowed jeans and crawl into bed, and the men are right behind me, shucking their shirts and pants and sliding in beside me. I end up sandwiched between Theo and Marcus, with Ryland’s hand tangled in my hair.

The heat of their bodies warms the space beneath the covers, enveloping me in a sort of cocoon.

I think I try to say something, but before the words can make the short trip from my brain to my mouth, I lose them.

And sleep finds me.

It’s a good sleep.

The first restful sleep I’ve had since before we went to that fateful party at Luca’s house. It’s like my body knows it doesn’t have to fight anymore, doesn’t have to maintain awareness and be ready to lurch into action at any sign of danger.

Part of me expects that I’ll dream of Caleb, of the day he was taken from me—but instead, I don’t dream at all.

By the time I finally crack my eyes open, it’s dark outside again. A full day came and went since our visit to the graveyard, and I’m sure news of Luca’s death has begun to spread across Halston—along with the deaths of Adrian, Michael, Gabriel, and their men.

I blink lazily, gazing up at the ceiling. A small beam of moonlight creeps through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the room just enough that when I turn my head, I can see the three men laid out beside me.

God, they’re fucking beautiful.

That’s not new information, of course. I’ve known that since the first time I laid eyes on them.

But they look even more stunningly handsome right now than they ever have before, their faces softened by sleep, and I realize after a long moment that it’s not them who are different—it’s me.

For the first time in weeks, I feel like I have time to just look my fill. To appreciate the subtle curve of Theo’s jaw and the way Marcus’s eyelashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks. The way Ryland’s tattoos scrawl across his skin, highlighting the muscles beneath.

They look like dangerous, powerful gods.

And they’re mine.

The surge of possessive satisfaction that rises up in me at that thought makes me smile.

They’re still gathered around me, but they’ve shifted a little in their sleep, and I move slowly as I wriggle out from between them and crawl off the bed. Slipping off my panties, I walk naked across the room and head into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before flicking on the light.

I don’t bother looking in the mirror as I turn on the shower and test the temperature. I know I still look like a bruised, battered mess.

But I don’t feel like one anymore. Despite the aches and pains in my body, I feel light. Strong.

It’s over.

The reality of that is still sinking in, and I don’t think I’ve fully grasped it yet. But every time the thought passes through my mind, it feels more real.