Burn for me

Chapter 4:The mission

CARTER'S POV

I stare at the letter knowing how much I have messed up.

"I did not kill you after all, doll."

The words blur in front of my eyes. My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding. I cheated on Wayne. I was drunk, but that is not an excuse. Because I do not regret a thing.

That is the worst part. The guilt should be crushing me. It should be eating me alive. But when I think about last night, about Rayne's hands on my body, about his voice calling me master, about the way he submitted to me—I feel nothing but heat.

I look around. I am clean. That is a first. And I do not feel any c*m left in me. He cleaned me. He actually cleaned me.

Why would he do that? Why would a monster like him be so gentle?

I look around the hotel. It is really nice. I do not think I have been to a place this nice even when on missions. The bed sheet is silk, soft against my skin. The windows are illuminating the best part of the wretched town. The morning sun pours in, casting golden light across the room. For a moment, Talber almost looks beautiful.

I lay down for a bit to get my thoughts together.

My mind is a mess. Rayne. The mission. Wayne. The mafia. Everything is tangled together, and I do not know how to untangle it.

I close my eyes and try to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

I went to the toilet to check myself in the mirror. My reflection stares back at me. Dark curly hair. Green eyes. A face that looks too innocent for what I did last night.

Luckily, there were not any marks on my body. No bruises. No hickeys. No evidence of what happened.

Did HE do that on purpose?

I was thinking when it hit me.

I had a job.

The mission. The Stephano family. Stephano Lyon. I am supposed to be undercover. I am supposed to be gathering evidence. I am supposed to be bringing them down.

Instead, I spent the night with the son of the man I am supposed to destroy.

I am fully sober now, and the weight of what I did is dumped on me. It crashes down like a wave, suffocating me.

I cannot let Wayne find out. Or should I just tell him? I promised no secrets.

Ugh. I do not think I have the courage.

I pack my stuff and leave the hotel. The lobby is quiet. The receptionist looks up as I walk past. Her eyes go wide. She looks surprised to see me.

Then I guess that letter was no joke. f**k.

I walk faster, pushing through the revolving doors. The cold air hits my face. The streets of Talber are busy, full of people going about their lives. They have no idea what I did last night. They have no idea who I am.

I still have a job to do. So I head to the office.

The station is chaotic as usual. Officers rushing around. Phones ringing. Papers everywhere. The smell of coffee and stale air fills the room.

I head in and try to sneak my way into my office.

"Where the hell have you been, Carter?"

I stop in my tracks. s**t.

I exhale, my shoulders dropping. I turn around slowly.

The Lieutenant is standing in the doorway of his office. His arms are crossed. His expression is stern.

"You always do this before a job," he says. "But this one is big. You cannot mess it up."

I nod, running my hand through my hair. "I know. I know. I am ready for it. I came to take the files about Mr. Stephano."

The Lieutenant's eyes narrow. "And Wayne has been looking for you. He is going crazy," he says.

Typical.

"Okay, Lieutenant. I will be heading off now."

"Don't you want to see Wayne?" he adds.

I pause. My heart clenches. I should see him. I should face him. But I cannot. Not yet. Not after what I did.

"I will see him later," I say. My voice is flat. Dismissive.

I search the table, my eyes scanning the mess of papers. I see the files. Red. Thick. Labeled with the name I have been hunting for months.

Stephano Lyon.

I grab them and head out of there without a second thought.

I take a cab and head to my small rundown apartment.

The ride is short. The streets blur past. The buildings get smaller, more run-down. This is where I live. A tiny place in a bad part of town. It is not much, but it is mine.

I pay the driver and get out. The building is old. The paint is peeling. The stairs creak under my weight.

I climb up to my floor. My heart is pounding. I do not know why. Maybe it is the guilt. Maybe it is the fear.

I reach my door.

I see the door opened.

What the hell?

My blood runs cold. My hand instinctively moves to my waist, where my gun should be. But I left it in my bag. Stupid. So stupid.

I push the door open slowly. It creaks on its hinges.

The apartment is dark. The curtains are drawn. I cannot see anything.

"Hello?" I call out. My voice is shaky. "Who is there?"

A figure steps out of the shadows.

Blue eyes. Brown hair. Broad shoulders.

Wayne.

"Wayne?"

My voice comes out shaky, uncertain. I look into his eyes, and they are shaky. That is not like him. Wayne is the kind of guy who would fight a lion for me. He is strong. Steady. Unshakable.

But right now, his blue eyes are trembling. There is something wrong. Something is definitely up with him.

I take his face up and calm him. My hands cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. His skin is warm beneath my fingers.

"Wayne, look at me," I say softly. "What is going on? What happened? Tell me."

He looks down on me, his eyes searching mine. His mouth opens, but before he can say anything, I notice that my room is even more messy and worse than I left it.

My eyes scan the space. Clothes are thrown everywhere. Drawers are pulled open. Papers are scattered across the floor.

I know I do not clean often, but I definitely did not leave my room like this.

I slide past Wayne to look at what is before me. All my mission files that I had stacked up had been disrupted. The red folders are tossed across the floor, their contents spilling out. My clothes are tampered with. The closet door is hanging open.

I look at Wayne. He did not move. He just stared at me.

"Wayne, did you do this?" I ask.

His eyebrows furrow. "Do what?"

"Did you scatter all my files and clothes because you were looking for me?"

He pauses for a second. His jaw tightens. "Why would I do that? This is how I met it when I came." His voice is flat. Defensive. "This is the last place I checked, and I arrived a few minutes ago."

I believe him. Wayne is a bad liar. He has always been. And right now, his eyes are telling the truth.

But that means someone else was in my apartment.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I have questions, but first I have to know what happened with Wayne. He looks so broken. So lost. I have never seen him like this.

I go to him and hug him. My arms wrap around his broad shoulders. I press my face into his chest. I need this. I need him.

He does not hug me back. His arms stay at his sides. Instead, he pats my head, his touch mechanical. Distant.

Then he gets serious. I feel the shift in his body. The tension in his shoulders.

He pulls back and looks down at me. His blue eyes are hard now. Demanding.

"Carter, where were you last night?" he asks.

His voice is calm, but there is an edge beneath it. A sharpness that cuts through me.

I freeze. My heart stops. My blood turns cold.

Even when I knew I should not have, even when I know when and how to lie—it is my job, after all—I falter. I cannot speak. I cannot think.

Because Wayne knows everything about me. He has known me since I was seven years old. He can see right through me.

But I have to keep it a secret. I cannot tell him. I cannot.

He scoffs. His lips curl into a bitter smile. "You cannot tell me, can you?"

His voice is soft. Shaky. It breaks my heart.

"It is fine, Carter. You do not have to tell me everything," he says.

He pulls away and sits on one of my couches. He stares at the ceiling for a bit. His jaw is tight. His hands are clenched into fists.

I watch him, my heart pounding. I do not know what to say. I do not know what to do.

Then he asks, his voice low and flat: "You were at the Oblivion, were not you?"

I freeze again. But this time it does not last long, because how could he have known?

I look at him, my expression stern but guilty. "How do you know that?"

He snaps. His head whips toward me, his blue eyes blazing.

"Because I was f*****g looking for you!"

The words hit me like a slap. I flinch.

"You did not want me to know, and here I was worried. We got information at the station that Stephano Rayne was seen at the Oblivion." His voice rises. "I wanted to tell you. I searched everywhere for you. But you did not tell me anything."

His voice cracks. He looks at me, his eyes filled with sorrow and anger.

"What if something had happened to you?"

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. The guilt is crushing me. The weight of my lies is suffocating.

He stares at me, his blue eyes piercing. His voice drops. Low. Cold.

"Did you see Stephano?"