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She’s trying to catch her breath, shaking her head from side to side like she’s battling what she has to say.

“You don’t want me, Kade…I’m broken,” she whimpers.

“Then let me put you back together, Viper.” She couldn’t be more wrong. I have never wanted anyone more than I want her. I don’t care if she is broken. Nothing she can say will change the way I feel for her.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she chokes.

“Then tell me, let me in,” I plead. I move my hands to cup her face and tilt her head so she looks at me.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on, Emilia,” I plead again.

“I need you to promise me something before I explain,” she proclaims.

I don’t say anything. I’m not promising anything. If she asks me not to kill him, I can’t commit to that, and I’m not one for breaking a vow.

“Kade, this isn’t just my life at play here, it doesn’t just affect me. I’m only asking for you not to act impulsively,” she asks.

“Fine, I’ll try to control myself and only act when you’re ready,” I promise.

“But… when the time comes, know I will not hesitate to kill the bastard regardless of me being a sergeant. I will rip his throat right out if I feel it justified and you will not stop me; I will show no restraint.”

“When the time comes, you’ll have to get in line, Sergeant,” she declares.

There is the little Viper I know. The image of her covered in blood invades my thoughts. My god, I need serious help.

“You might want to sit down then if you want to hear this story.” She bows her head as if in sorrow. “You’re going to see me completely differently after hearing this… I won’t be your Viper anymore,” she whispers.

“You will always be my Viper, regardless of what you tell me,” I declare.

She looks at me with longing in her eyes, like if she looks away for even a second, I’ll disappear completely. I pull her towards the front of the alcove facing the waves. The sound of the water soothing and oozing a sense of calm. She plays with the sand running it through her fingers. I think it grounds her to the present, like she’s going somewhere she doesn’t want to be. I place my hand on her thigh in hope it might offer her some comfort.

She releases a shaky breath. “Please stay with me,” she pleads.

“Always,” I promise.

EMILIA

12 years prior

I’m in the basement, my reading nook in sight. The familiar bookcase filled with my favourite novels, my favourite escapes from reality. The small rocking chair in the corner of the basement is my sanctuary. I’m curled up in the chair with my book perched on my knees when I hear the door hinges creak. Tom Andrews, the son of my father’s closest friend. I grew up knowing him, hating him, despising him. He is cruel and cold, always has been. Ever since he killed our cat, I have known he is a monster. He has been present more often lately—since Thea died. Always lingering too long, staring at me from the shadows, observing.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“Now, now, my pet, is that any way to speak to your master?”

“I am not your pet and you are not my master. Get out now!” I leap from my seat as I demand he leave, but he doesn’t budge. His eyes are like a predator’s. They’re alert, calculating, like they’ve identified their prey. He stalks towards me, pushes me so hard that I fall on the floor. I try to get up when he straddles me and pins both my arms above my head. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m completely frozen. I don’t know what to do.

“Now, you’re going to lay still, or not, I kind of like it when they fight. I especially liked it when your sister fought me. She couldn’t in the end though. I’m too strong, too powerful and I will have what I want.”

My sister, Thea, he’s talking about Thea. The panic is rising, I’m kicking out but I can’t make contact with anything important. His grip is tightening on my wrists. I can’t pull them free. He’s ripping at my shirt, exposing my breasts. I’m not going to be able to stop this, there is nobody in the house, nobody to hear my screams or pleas.

“At least your body is better than your sister’s. It’s a real shame she had to go and kill herself. I did enjoy her…thoroughly.” His laugh is satanic, cruel, cunning.

I stop fighting in that moment, trying to retreat to a place of safety in my head, but it’s not working. I have to fight, I can’t give up. I kick out, I try and get my arms free, I even try and use my head, but he dodges my strike at the last minute. He grips both of my wrists with one hand, wraps the other around my throat and squeezes. “Oh we’re going to have so much fun, my submissive little pet.”

He takes from me. His hands roaming all over my body. Nothing about it is loving or filled with care. It’s greedy, it’s forceful. He bites at the skin on my inner thigh, marking me— possibly permanently as blood from the wound trickles down my leg.

I think of anything else in this moment. I think about braiding my sisters hair for her when she couldn’t work out how to do it herself. I’m thinking about the beach and how the waves sound, crashing against the rocks and sand. I’m thinking about my books and what adventures the characters would often embark on. Anything but this. Anything but the feeling of him inside me.