It makes me wonder whether this entire state has been silently tortured.
Saint cups my face, forcing me to look up to him, reading the murderous look in my eyes. “I need you to listen to me. You and Regina? I already know. You’re not going after the twins alone. You leave them to me. I won’t risk you.”
I should be lulled by his protectiveness, that it’s still there after all this time, albeit the threats a little more real.
But his words drone out, because that vengeance that always simmers away inside me?
It rages until boiling point.
That darkness that always slinks in the background threatens to ink through my vision.
33
Saint
All The Things She Said - t.A.T.u.
Icouldn’ttellyoua fucking word that’s being spoken around me, because that’s exactly what she does to me.
Invades my senses, demands my attention, all with a simple fucking look.
The image of her is still ghosting across my vision.
The smell of her vanilla shampoo is still infused in my airways from last night, her tiny frame still humming beneath the palms of my hands.
I never show weakness, but with Indie?
She’s managed to crash through the fortress I built in her absence.
She doesn’t even need to try; she just needs to breathe the same fucking air as me.
I wanted to keep everything hidden from her, didn’t want to cause her fear by sharing the knowledge that she could have met her demise if I’d been seconds later that night.
Because the MontgomerysmadeOmnia.
It’s their blood-soaked family heirloom.
They have to take it a step further when they’re redeemed; they need to kill as part of their condition.
My nightmares consist of reenactments of what she almost succumbed to.
If Rex and I hadn’t made it, if she never got the chance to send me her location, she’d never have made it out of that building; that was Conrad and George’s intention all along.
The skin across my knuckles bleaches white at the thought.
I could see it. That haunting glare last night?
I misvalued her.
A hint of the darkness rolling over her, like a silk veil slowly preparing to drown her, letting a demon rise in her place.
She was morphing into something demonic right before my eyes.
A sick, twisted part of me wanted to draw it out, see what she would unleash.
I wanted to see if her wickedness matched my own.
But the sane part of me—the very small fucking fraction of it—had to snuff it out.
