“I will,” Dad promises smoothly, his black eyes flashing with cold determination as he nods toward the open elevator. “I always do.”
Locke steps up beside me. He doesn't say a word. He just grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up, and presses one final, devastatingly deep kiss against my lips.
It’s possessive, intense, and thick with a dark promise that seals itself into my soul. The heat of it lingers on my skin long after he pulls back.
The three men step backward into the elevator car. Dad reaches out, pressing the button to lower the car to the private garage below.
Locke holds my gaze as the heavy brass doors slowly begin to slide shut. His gray eyes burn with a promise that rings clear across the expanding gap:
I am coming home, baby.
The doors seal
