Mack (King #4)(31)



He continued, “I always knew King did it out of his own distorted sense of love for me, and, of course, I felt as guilty as hell that he’d given up his chance to truly live again for me. But there were quite a few centuries where I stayed as far away as I could from him.”

“Where did you go?”

“Anywhere that I thought my skills might be useful. I fought in almost every war you could imagine—the Civil War, both World Wars, Korea—I followed the blood. I flew planes and helicopters, manned gunning stations, served in the infantry, drove tanks—I’ve done it all.”

It was an oddly patriotic way to make lemonade out of his situation.

“It wasn’t until the Gulf War that I finally gave it up,” he said.

“Why?”

“I was in charge of torturing prisoners. Three hundred and sixty-eight people experienced my handiwork. One day, I was overseeing the interrogation of a woman not much older than you are now. I remember thinking to myself that I knew she was hiding something. I could see it in her eyes. The two men in my command weren’t making any headway, so I took over. And there was a moment when she screamed that I woke up and realized where I was and what I was doing. Almost like I’d been in a daze for centuries. I was so sick, so disgusted with myself that I walked out and never looked back.

“Afterwards, I was lost for a few years. I don’t remember much other than I traded my freedom to a woman who had a very special gift and could make me forget in exchange for…my services.”

“By services, I’m guessing you mean sexual favors.” I saw no need to beat around the icky bush on that one.

“More than that. She kept me tied up in her basement. King finally found me and bartered for my freedom, but I was gone. Mentally gone. It took him another few years to bring me back. But he never gave up.”

“He really loves you.” I suddenly found myself conflicted about this King man. As for the rest of Mack’s story, it would take a lifetime—perhaps more—to truly digest what it meant to fight and kill like he had. It was just too damned…complicated.

“My brother does love me,” Mack said. “Which was why I did everything I could to help get his life back. Now, he’s alive, free of his curse, has Mia by his side, and a baby son.”

There. That was it! The key to getting Mack to hope again. A little light had flickered in his eyes just then as he’d told me about his brother’s new life. He felt good about it. Perhaps it was something he even wanted for himself.

“If your brother was cursed and not such a nice person, I can imagine he has difficulties letting go of the past.”

Mack shook his head. “Everyone always thinks I’m the nice brother, the good one. But compared to me, King is a goddamned saint. I’ve killed thousands of people, Theodora.”

I looked down at my hands, letting that sink in. “Most of them were in wars.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. Because if you think you’re a monster for killing men during war, then logic would say that every person who has ever killed for their country is also unworthy of living. I’m sure that’s not how you feel.”

“I killed because it made me feel good. Not because I gave a shit about politics or felt a patriotic need.”

“Doesn’t matter why. The act was the same.”

“It is very different—look, this is pointless, Theodora. We both know there’s much, much more I’m not telling you, so you’ll simply have to believe me when I say that I’m not a good man. I must be stopped.”

Goddammit! He’s so f*cking stubborn! Once again, the fact that he felt like he needed to die just to protect everyone from him was yet another testament to his good heart.

“Okay. Fine. You’re horrible and evil. You deserve to die, which is why I’m going to kill you. Just as soon as you tell me about the other times we met—things I said or did or—” I needed more information. Facts.

“There is no time. My brother will be here soon. I can already feel him getting closer.”

Dammit. I knew that there was more going on here than just a simple case of me not being able to remember. Something must’ve happened to make me forget, and it was possible I had the answers to help Mack locked away inside.

“Then just tell me about the last time we met.” I was desperate for answers or clues or anything that would tell me what to do.

Mack groaned. Yes, it was a sexy deep groan. Ignore, ignore, ignore…

“Please, Mack. Because after you’re gone, I will have lost my chance to know.” Of course, I had zero intentions of killing this beautiful man.

Mack nodded solemnly and then lifted up his sleeve and pointed to one of the dates written in script on his arm. “This was the last one.”

Holy shit. “Those tattoos are a record of us.”

“Yes.”

Frankly, for such a man to do something so sentimental made my insides liquefy into a sweet syrupy concoction. “That’s very…touching.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. It was the only way I had to mourn my loss.”

My brows furrowed. “I didn’t realize you took it so hard.”

“Every time you died, a piece of me died with you. There’s nothing left now.”

His words only cemented my resolve. I’m not throwing in the towel. No f*cking way. My brain barely knew this man, but my heart did. And everything about him made me want to fight tooth and nail to keep him. But if I told him that, the monster would come out.

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