“Don’t worry, Gina,” he said, reaching for her wrist. “I’m the keeping kind.”
The basement stairs groaned beneath her weight. The air turned cold and wet, smelling of earth and iron and something else—something sweet, like overripe fruit. gina valentina pure taboo
The police had stopped looking. Julian hadn’t. “Don’t worry, Gina,” he said, reaching for her wrist
Julian smiled. It was the same smile he used at dinner parties, the one that made neighbors say, What a devoted stepfather. ” he said
Julian descended one step. Then another. The floorboards didn’t creak beneath him; he’d memorized their secrets long ago.
Gina’s back hit the cold concrete wall. The key was still in her hand, small and useless.
“I was going to tell you tomorrow,” he said softly. “On your birthday.”