CHAPTER 99: WRONG AGAIN

’I want you Craig’

That pushed him over the edge.

He grabbed her, pulling onto his lap like he’d been waiting forever. The car rocked from the movement, the console biting into her thighs, but she didn’t care.

Neither of them did.

All that mattered was the heat, the way their mouths crushed together, all tongue, heat and hunger.

He kissed her like he was drowning in her. Like he’d never survive without this.

Not letting go, he reached down and shoved the seat backward, making room for her body to press flush against his.

His hands were already pulling at her zipper, and with shaking fingers, he dragged it down, letting the jacket fall away. Her skin was warm, too warm, burning against his as he pushed her shirt up, just enough to expose the swell of her breasts.

Craig groaned when he saw her, bare and flushed in the faint glow of the dashboard lights, and he didn’t hesitate, his mouth went there next. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, licking, then switching to the other while his hands cupped her greedily.

She gasped, grinding down on him from the contact. Her head fell back, and she rocked her hips again, desperate for friction.

That made him growl.

Her movements, her heat, her moans—he was losing it. His grip on her waist tightened, fingers digging into her skin, keeping her right there as she ground herself over the bulge in his jeans.

"Merlina," he breathed against her chest, voice wrecked and reverent. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me."

"I do," she whispered, eyes lidded, lips parted as she stared down at him. "I want you inside me."

Craig swore under his breath, something filthy and desperate all at once. His eyes went darker, blown wide with desire. He kissed her again, hard and deep, and then pushed her skirt up to her waist.

One hand slid between her thighs, fingers grazing her softest, wettest place and he groaned at how ready she already was.

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his forehead to hers, "I wish I could taste you right now."

That had her trembling. Without a word, she reached down and unzipped him, her hand wrapping around him. Hot, thick and aching, he bit back a growl.

He didn’t wait.

He guided her down onto him, the tight heat of her making both of them moan at the same time. Her body stretched to take him in, and when he was fully inside, her hands braced against his shoulders, her thighs trembling around him.

Then she moved.

Riding him slow at first, just the two of them, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in like this might be the only time they’d ever have again. But that didn’t last long.

The tension snapped too fast, the heat rising too sharp, and soon her pace quickened, desperate, matching the pounding of their hearts.

His lips never left her, it was all over, her mouth, her neck, her breasts, his teeth teasing softly over her nipple before sucking it again, pulling moans from deep in her throat.

"I missed you," Merlina cried out, breaking in the middle of a thrust.

Craig’s hands clenched around her hips, his own rising to meet hers. "Godd,I missed you too."

They moved harder. Faster. The sound of skin on skin echoing in the steamed-up car, the windows fogged completely now. Her hands gripped his jaw, kissing him again, their mouths crashing and gasping between breaths and groans.

When they came, they came together, trembling, panting, undone.

But they didn’t stop.

They stayed there, bodies locked, lips brushing, her head on his shoulder, his hand tracing circles on her back as she caught her breath. The world was quiet again. Just their heartbeats. Just this.

For the first time in weeks, Craig felt whole.

He dropped his head back against the seat, still holding her in his lap, arms wrapped tight around her.

Merlina kissed his jaw, her breath warm. "I’m not sorry about this," she whispered.

"Me neither," he said, kissing her temple. "Not even a little."

Craig sat in his car for a long time after Merlina slipped out and whispered goodbye, her lips still tasting like promises he wasn’t sure he deserved.

His shirt was rumpled. His skin was marked with her heat. And yet, it wasn’t the sex that lingered.

It was her.

The way she moved against him like they belonged together, the way her voice broke when she said she missed him. The way she looked after, like she was still holding back something that might destroy them both.

But still, he felt whole for the first time in weeks.

So when he finally walked into his house, keys still dangling from his fingers, he didn’t expect the sucker punch waiting for him on his screen.

’Hey Craig, about your friend’s case, I think I’ve found a way to track whoever has been sending those messages. Call me, or tell Merlina to reach me.’

Craig’s stomach dropped.

The words from Miles blurred into a single weight in his chest. He didn’t want this.

Not now.

Not when things were finally starting to make sense between them.

He didn’t believe Conor was capable of any of it. Not the threats. Not the stalking. And definitely not murder. But even Craig knew the ugly truth of life: no one ever really saw the whole picture, not even when it came to family.

Never say never.

He clenched his jaw and called.

"You better have something good."

Miles’s voice crackled through the line, his tone distracted. "I do. It wasn’t easy, but I traced one of the messages through an old signal bouncing trick, sloppy, but clever. Took some digging, cost me a few favors, and it’ll run you about six hundred."

Craig didn’t even blink. "Okay. Send me your details."

"Thought so. Anyway, the IP led to a dead zone outside Belford. Half-abandoned property. Quiet. Hidden. But the signal hit the router there, last week. Someone’s still using it."

Craig’s hand curled tighter around the phone. "Send me the address."

"You’ll tell Merlina, right?"

He hesitated.

Then, "No. Not yet."

Not because he wanted to keep it from her, he just needed to know ahead. Besides, he wasn’t sure it was safe. Whatever this was, he didn’t want her walking blindly into it.

The next day, Craig drove without music, without thought, hoodie pulled low and dark glasses masking his eyes. The address led him an hour out.

Winding roads, scattered trees, and cracked pavement. Fog rolled over the land like smoke that refused to lift.

The building stood at the end of a broken path, part farmhouse, part bunker. Brick and stone swallowed by ivy and years of silence. A metal gate creaked in the wind.

No cars.

No signs of life.

Nothing but an eerie calm that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He parked a few feet away, cutting the engine. Sat still. Watched.

Always observe first, that’s what his father used to say.

Craig moved quietly, staying close to the trees as he checked out the area. The windows were small and had bars over them. The front door looked solid, with a strong lock and a hidden camera above it.

He didn’t try it.

Instead, he went around the back, boots silent over fallen leaves. A damaged window board swung beside the glass. He approached slowly, peeking through the smudged window.

And paused.

Someone was inside.

Not just someone, a woman.

She sat at a long wooden table in the dining area, back straight, a white sweater hugging her frame. A steaming mug rested in her hands, and in front of her, a book, its pages wide open, her fingers gliding over the words with slow precision.

Her hair was thick. Dark. Tied in a low twist.

The entire scene looked... peaceful.

Craig leaned in, inching closer, trying to catch a better look at her face. The steam from the mug briefly clouded the glass. Then it cleared, and he saw her.

Saw her clearly.

He froze, breath stuck mid-air.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.