"He taught me that love is weakness," I continue, unsure why I'm still speaking. "That sentiment gets you killed. That the only way to survive is to take what you want before someone takes it from you. Kindness was beaten out of me before I was old enough to remember having it. Compassion was carved away with shadow magic that left scars you can probably feel on my back."
Her fingers twitch against my arm, and I realize she has felt them—the raised lines that crisscross my shoulder blades, evidence of lessons learned in blood and darkness.
"Every time I showed weakness, he punished me. Every time I showed mercy, he made me watch him destroy whatever I'd tried to spare. After a few centuries, you stop trying." I laugh softly, but there's no humor in it. "He once told me that fated mates are a myth perpetuated by weak Alphas who can't control their instincts. That any Alpha worth his bloodline chooses his Omega strategically, claims them, and breaks them into obedience."
I pause, feeling her tense against me.
"I believed him," I admit. "For centuries, I believed him. The Omegas I took, I took because I wanted them, used them until I didn't, and discarded them without a second thought. That's what power means—taking what you want and feeling nothing when it's gone."
"And now?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
"Now?" I press my lips to her shoulder, feeling her pulse flutter beneath the kiss. "Now I have a fated mate who tried to kill me with hairpins and whose hatred I can taste like copper on my tongue. Now I'm locked inside an Omega whose contempt for me rivals my father's disappointment." My arm tightens around her. "And I find I don't want to break you at all. I want to watch you burn."
She's silent for a long moment. Through the bond, I feel her processing, analyzing, filing away information like the diplomat's daughter she is.
"So that's your excuse?" she finally says, and there's an edge to her voice. "Daddy was cruel, so you get to be a monster? Poor little Shadow Prince with his traumatic childhood?"
I laugh, genuinely surprised by her audacity. Most people would offer sympathy, or at least pretend to. Not her.
"No excuse," I reply. "Just explanation. I am what he made me. But I am also what I chose to become. Every cruelty I've committed, I chose. Every life I've taken, I took willingly. I could have been different—I could have broken the cycle, become something other than what he wanted." My shadows coil around her wrist, a gentle reminder of what I am. "I didn't. That's on me, not him."
"Why are you telling me this?" she demands. "What do you gain from it?"
It's a good question. I'm not sure I have an answer.
"I don't know," I admit, and the honesty surprises even me. "Perhaps I want you to know who you're planning to murder. Perhaps the bond is lowering my defenses. Perhaps I'm simply tired of being the only one who remembers what made me this way."
"Or perhaps you're trying to manipulate me," she counters. "Make me feel sympathy so I let my guard down."
"Perhaps," I agree easily. "I am a monster, after all. Manipulation is what we do."
But through the bond, she can feel that I'm not lying. The fated mate bond doesn't permit lies, not about things that matter. And somehow, impossibly, this matters.
We lie there in silence for a while longer, my knot slowly beginning to soften. I can feel her exhaustion through the bond, the toll of the night catching up with her. But she's not sleeping—she's thinking, analyzing, adding this new information to whatever mental file she's building about me.
"You killed Asher," she says quietly, and the name hangs between us like a blade. "You murdered the man I loved, and you expect me to feel something for you because your father was cruel?"
"I expect nothing from you, Omega," I reply, my hand still resting on her hip. "Certainly not sympathy. I told you—I'm not offering excuses. Just explanation."
"There's no explanation that justifies what you did." Her voice is steady now, hardened. "No sad story about your childhood that makes watching the light leave his eyes acceptable."
"I felt something when he died," I say quietly. "Satisfaction. He was a threat to what I wanted, and I removed him. I'm not going to apologize for it."
"I wouldn't believe you if you did."
"No. You wouldn't." I press a kiss to her hair, feeling her stiffen against me. "But for what it's worth, I understand your hatred. I earned it. I'll earn more of it before this is done."
"You sound almost proud of that."
"I am what I am, Omega. I stopped pretending to be otherwise a long time ago."
My knot has softened enough that I could pull out now, but I find myself reluctant to break the strange intimacy of this moment. We're still enemies—that hasn't changed. She'll still try to kill me, and I'll still enjoy watching her try. But something has shifted between us, some wall has cracked that I didn't even know existed.
"When I finally figure out how to kill you," she says, her voice steady now, "I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember that you showed me your weakness, and I still destroyed you."
I smile against her neck. "I look forward to it."
Finally, I feel my knot subside enough to separate. I almost regret it.
