Chapter 1 The Last Night
- The rain was biblical. A savage downpour that hit the penthouse windows like it was trying to break in. Thunder rolled over the city skyline, and lightning flickered above the towers like warning signs no one noticed.
- Except Callum Maddox.
- He noticed everything.
- Especially the woman curled into the crook of his arm, half-asleep and wrapped in nothing but one of his black dress shirts and the silk sheets they’d destroyed hours ago.
- Emery Thorne.
- The only person who’d ever made him forget to look over his shoulder.
- She shifted slightly, thigh brushing his under the covers, skin warm from the whiskey, the fireplace, and everything they’d just done. Her damp auburn hair clung to her shoulders, her lips still kiss-swollen, and her green eyes blinked up at him, hazy with that soft post-orgasm daze that made his heart ache.
- He never said it, but she knew.
- “You’re staring again,” she murmured.
- “You’re naked in my bed,” he said roughly. “What do you expect?”
- Her smile was slow. Secret. “I expect you to be used to it by now.”
- “I’m not.”
- She lifted herself onto her elbow, hair falling over her face like a curtain, eyes burning into his. “Then maybe we should fix that.”
- And just like that, he was on her again.
- His mouth crashed to hers, tongue demanding, teeth nipping. Her breath caught as his hand slid down, between her thighs, fingers already knowing exactly how she liked to be touched.
- “Callum—” she gasped, arching under him. “God, yes—don’t stop.”
- “I’m not fucking stopping.” His voice was a growl, his body caging hers like he was trying to brand himself into her soul. “I’m going to ruin you all over again.”
- She moaned, fingers clawing his shoulders, nails raking down his back as he slid down, mouth following the path of his hands—throat, breasts, stomach—until he was between her thighs, tongue tracing over her like a worshipper at the altar.
- She came undone with a cry, back arching, one hand in his hair, the other grabbing the sheets like her life depended on it.
- But he wasn’t done.
- Not even close.
- He flipped her, pulled her up on her knees, and thrust into her in one brutal, perfect stroke that had them both cursing.
- “Say it,” he panted in her ear, gripping her hips as he moved deeper, harder, more desperate with every second. “Say what you always say.”
- She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes wild, lips trembling.
- “You’re my favorite bad idea, Maddox.”
- He lost it.
- He drove into her like he was trying to bury himself so deep she’d never leave. Each stroke was a promise. Each moan, a confession. He grabbed her hair, kissed the back of her neck, and spilled inside her with a groan that shattered him from the inside out.
- And when they collapsed together—bodies tangled, sweat-slicked and breathless—he held her like she was the last good thing in the world.
- Because she was.
- 💔
- “Don’t move,” she whispered minutes later, curled into his chest. “I like it right here.”
- “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, hand tangled in her hair.
- “You always say that like a threat.”
- “It is.”
- She laughed.
- It was the last time he ever heard it.
- 💔
- She shifted in his arms. A small noise left her lips. Then another. Not laughter.
- Something else.
- “Em?” He sat up slightly, brushing a hand down her spine. “What’s wrong?”
- “I…” She blinked up at him. Her pupils looked wrong. “I don’t feel right.”
- His stomach dropped.
- “What do you mean?”
- Her body tensed, then jolted once—violently.
- “Emery—baby—hey, breathe, talk to me.”
- Her lips moved. No sound. Then a faint whisper:
- “Callum…”
- He sat up fast, grabbing her face. “You’re okay. Look at me. You’re okay.”
- But she wasn’t.
- Her skin had gone pale. A faint tremor took over her limbs. Her chest rose in sharp, uneven gasps.
- He hauled the blanket around her and grabbed his phone, pressing emergency as he tried to keep his other hand locked on her pulse.
- “911, what’s your emergency?”
- “My girlfriend—she’s not breathing right—she just—fuck, I don’t know—she’s seizing or something—just get here now!”
- He threw the phone, held her closer.
- She looked up at him.
- Like she was already fading.
- “Emery, no. No. Don’t do this to me—don’t you fucking dare—stay with me, you hear me?”
- Tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t care.
- “Stay. Please. Just fucking stay.”
- Her hand brushed his chest weakly—right over his heart.
- “Callum…” Her lips barely moved. “…love you.”
- Then she went still.
- No breath.
- No heartbeat.
- Just silence.
- And Callum Maddox broke.
- He screamed her name. Over and over. Pressed his mouth to hers. Tried CPR. Anything. Everything.
- By the time paramedics arrived, he was on the floor, holding her lifeless body like he could pull her back with the strength of his grief alone.
- They said it was a sudden event. Possibly a seizure. A clot. Her heart.
- No one had answers.
- But Callum didn’t believe them.
- Because he remembered the chocolate she ate earlier. Just one piece. From a box left at the front desk.
- No card.
- No brand.
- Just a ribbon and a smile.
- And now she was dead.
- And everything inside him was too.