Chapter 3

Leon's voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.

He didn't look at me. He just took a few long strides toward the drawer.

"It's nothing!"

I scrambled up off the floor, ignoring the sharp sting in my wrists, and sprinted barefoot into the bedroom, throwing myself in front of the nightstand.

"Leon. The cuffs are off. Your rescue is over. Get out of my apartment. Now."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, bluffing my way through an order I had no power to enforce.

Leon stopped in his tracks. He looked down at me.

Ash from god knows where still clung to his navy uniform, and in his deep-set eyes burned something that terrified me.

"The incident report has to be complete," he said coldly. "I need to confirm there's nothing dangerous in this room. Or anything that belongs to that random guy."

"I already told you there's no random guy! It's a toy I bought myself, okay? Is that a crime?" I was practically screaming.

"A toy?"

Leon raised an eyebrow and suddenly took a step closer.

I instinctively stepped back, my spine slamming into the wall.

Nowhere left to go.

He planted one hand against the wall beside my head, boxing me completely into his shadow.

"Violet. When you lie, your left hand always picks at your right thumb."

He bent down, his warm breath washing over my face.

"Just like right now."

I yanked my hand behind my back, my heart hammering wildly.

"Move." His voice dropped, laced with a command that left no room for refusal.

"No! This is my privacy!"

I planted myself in front of the nightstand, unmoving, like a lioness guarding her cubs.

That drawer held every secret I'd buried over the past three years.

It held my most shattered, unguarded moments. It held the most humiliating depths of a love I never got over.

If he saw it.

If he found out how miserable these past three years had really been for me.

Whatever pride I had left would be destroyed completely.

"Privacy?"

The fire in Leon's eyes flared up again.

He thought I was protecting the secret of some man who didn't even exist.

"There's no such thing as privacy at an LAFD rescue scene."

He reached out abruptly.

"Leon, don't!"

I lunged at him like a madwoman, trying to wrap myself around his arm.

But the strength gap was too great.

He used just one hand, hooking it around my waist, and lifted me clean away from the dresser like he was picking up a stray cat.

I fought back with everything I had, my nails tearing a streak of blood across the back of his hand.

Leon didn't even flinch.

He pinned my arms behind my back and pressed me hard against the wall.

The rough fabric of his uniform scraped against my thin slip, his chest crushing against my back, pinning me completely in place.

"Let go of me! You lunatic!" I screamed, falling apart, tears streaming down my face.

"Shut up."

His voice came out terrifyingly hoarse, with a tremor he probably didn't even notice himself.

His jaw pressed against the side of my ear, his breath scorching hot.

"Three years ago," he said suddenly, his voice so low it seemed to be dragged out from between clenched teeth, "you broke up with me. Out of nowhere."

My entire body went rigid.

"It was because of this guy. Wasn't it."

"What the hell are you talking about!"

"These past three years," his voice began to shake, and it wasn't anger—it was something else, "have you been seeing him this whole time? Since the day we split?"

"No! There is no man! There never was!"

"Then why are you guarding this drawer like your life depends on it!" he roared. "Violet, stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying to you!" My tears finally broke free, spilling over. "You don't understand anything!"

His fingers dug into my wrist, the pressure almost unbearable—then, a second later, loosened slightly, as if even he was shaken by his own loss of control.

"Then let me see," his voice went cold again, terrifyingly cold, "exactly what's worth locking away behind a combination code for three whole years."

He pinned me to the wall with one hand.

His other hand reached for the locked drawer.

"The code," he demanded.

"I'm not telling you! Get out! Get out of here!"

Leon let out a cold laugh.

He didn't push me for an answer again. Instead, he pulled a compact forcible-entry axe from his belt.

The back of the axe slammed down onto the wooden drawer front, splinters flying.

The combination lock warped, then shattered on impact.

Leon dropped the axe and yanked the drawer open.

Inside was a single black tin box.

It was the packaging from the box of chocolates he'd given me on our very first Valentine's Day together.