Vows of Revenge, Whispers of Love

Three years in love. One moment to lose everything.

The world outside the windshield was hushed and silver, softened by a misting rain that kissed the glass like fingertips each droplet a fleeting promise, there and gone before it could be memorized.

A quiet street on the edge of the city, the kind of place where time moved slower, where the air smelled of wet asphalt and the faintest hint of jasmine from someone's forgotten garden. Trees lined both sides, their branches swaying like drowsy sentinels in the wind, traffic a distant memory, the occasional passing headlight blinking through the fog like a warning too soft to be heard.

Inside the car, it was warm. Not just from the heater humming softly beneath the dashboard, but from the kind of warmth made from breath and shared skin, from the way Ryan's thigh pressed against hers even when he didn't need to shift gears.

Victoria Lane leaned across the console, one leg curled up beneath her, the other bare to the knee where Ryan's palm rested. His thumb traced idle circles there, a habit he'd had since their first date, when he'd been too nervous to hold her hand properly and instead fumbled his way into this quiet, possessive caress that now lived in the marrow of her bones.

They weren't in a rush. They never were, not with each other. Time had a way of bending around them, stretching like taffy when they were together, collapsing when they were apart.

His lips ghosted over her jaw, slow and teasing. "You know, I don't remember what dessert we had."

She could still taste the wine on his tongue, the faintest hint of the Cabernet they'd shared over candlelight, the one he'd picked "You didn't have dessert," she murmured, eyes half lidded as her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. "You dragged me out of the restaurant like a man with dishonorable intentions."

"Dishonorable?" he repeated, mock wounded. His voice was low, rough at the edges in the way that always made her stomach tighten. "I gave you my jacket. That's chivalry."

"You gave me your jacket so you could look at my legs on the walk to the car."

Outside, the rain tapped harder. A symphony of tiny collisions against the roof, like a heartbeat during a first kiss. A drop traced down the fogged window beside her like a falling star. She used to make wishes on those as a girl. Tonight, she didn't need to. Inside, her skin was electric.

His hand moved slow and sure up her thigh, the calluses on his fingers catching against her stockings, the ones he'd teased her for wearing because he knew they were his favorite. Heat spiraled beneath her skin. She gasped when his fingers grazed her inner seam, but it wasn't just the touch. It was the way he looked at her when he did it.

Like she was sacred. Like he'd never stop choosing her. Like even if the world burned down around them, he'd still find her in the ashes.

"Do you remember this place?" he whispered against her mouth.

He nodded. His nose brushed against hers, an old habit, one that made her chest ache with how much she loved him. "First time I kissed you. Behind the loading dock. You were wearing that ridiculous yellow scarf."

"I still have it," she smiled, eyes flickering with the memory. It was stuffed in the back of her closet, frayed at the edges, still smelling faintly of old paper and his nervous sweat. "You tasted like vending machine coffee."

"And you tasted like strawberry lip gloss and defiance."

She bit her bottom lip, laughter bubbling up. God, she could still feel the brick wall at her back, the way his hands had trembled when he'd finally cupped her face, the way her heart had threatened to crack her ribs open. "You said I was dangerous."

"You were. Still are."

His fingers slid under the hem of her dress, and this time she didn't stop him. The fabric whispered against her thighs as he pushed it higher, his palm branding her skin. Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering as pleasure bloomed in waves from where he touched her. His thumb circled slowly, deliberately. Every stroke was a confession, every press a vow. She tilted her head back, mouth parting in a silent gasp.

He didn't rush.

Because this was theirs. This car, this rain, this moment no one could take it from them. Every touch was an echo of love. Every kiss, a promise already kept.

"I'll never get tired of this," he murmured. "Of you."

She reached for his jaw, pulled him back to her mouth, and kissed him like she believed it. Like it was the last truth left in the world.

Rain drummed louder above them now, a heartbeat against the roof. The kind of sound that made her want to curl into him and never let go. The rest of the world didn't exist. It was only them breath, skin, the whisper of her name against his lips as she trembled, her fingers digging into his wrist like he might vanish if she didn't hold on tight enough.

And then silence. Stillness.

Her head fell onto his shoulder, her cheek pressing against the cotton of his shirt, the steady thud of his pulse beneath her lips. Chest rising and falling in sync with his.

"You're my peace," she whispered.

He kissed her hair. His lips lingered, as if he could press the words directly into her skin. "And you're my home."

Ten minutes later, they were back on the road.

The car smelled like skin and rain and afterglow. Her head leaned gently against the cool window glass.

"I still can't believe you put up with me," Ryan said, glancing sideways with that crooked smile she'd fallen for in their final year of college. The one that made her stomach flip even now, even after a thousand repetitions.

"You make up for it in bed," she teased.

"Oh, I do, huh?"

"And with foot rubs."

"Now that's my legacy."

She laughed, turning to look at him. And in that moment, just before the horror, everything was perfect.

Then

Headlights.

Too close.

Too fast.

Wrong side of the road.

Coming straight for them.

"Ryan-!"

He reacted instantly. Muscle memory, instinct, the same reflexes that had saved them a dozen times before. The wheel jerked left. Tires shrieked. The sound was animal, raw, the kind of noise that lived in nightmares. The car fishtailed, water spraying in all directions.

The other car a sleek black sports coupe, its headlights like predator's eyes in the dark shot through the fog like a bullet. It struck them hard on the rear passenger side. The impact was a universe collapsing. Steel screamed. Glass erupted. The car spun

Victoria screamed.

They hit the guardrail. Snapped it. Metal twisted like tinfoil.

The world tipped. Upside down, inside out, a carousel of terror. Branches whipped the windshield. Leaves and splinters and the shriek of tearing paint.

Then

Impact.

The passenger side slammed into a thick oak. The sound was a gunshot. A bone breaking. A door slamming shut.

Her body lurched. Her skull snapped sideways, hitting the glass hard. Stars exploded behind her eyes, white hot and endless. The seatbelt locked and carved into her chest. A knife of fire between her ribs. Airbags detonated like fists. The smell of gunpowder and burning plastic. Blood smeared her vision, copper thick on her tongue.

Smoke. Gasoline. Rain.

Her ears rang high and sharp, like a siren inside her skull, like the universe itself was screaming at her to wake up, to move, to breathe.

"Ryan..." she wheezed.

No answer.

His head hung limply. A marionette with its strings cut. His arm was pinned. The wheel crushed. Metal teeth biting into his skin.

"Ryan!" she screamed, but it came out hoarse and broken. Like her voice had been shattered too.

She tried to reach for him. Her right arm moved barely inch by inch, stretching across the center console, her nails scraping against the leather, her fingers trembling toward his, just inches from his blood-streaked hand.

Too far.

Tears flooded her eyes. Hot, helpless, furious. Her chest heaved. Each breath a battle. Each heartbeat a dirge.

"Please, Ryan..."

She didn't feel the tears. Only the cold. The kind that started in the bones and spread outward, the kind no amount of blankets could fix. And the fear. The kind that tasted like bile, like the last words you never got to say.

And then

Black.