Destroyed(139)

Every day that passed healed as well as hurt. And I often heard Clara in my head. She’d become my unofficial conscience. My lifeline when the conditioning grew too strong.

September, Hazel went into labour. She’d opted for another caesarean after the complications with Clara’s birth, and I watched absolutely f*cking terrified as she brought not one, but two lives into the world.

My heart broke, mended, and then shattered all over again to think we’d been given one new life, and Clara had somehow found a way to come back to us. I couldn’t thank the universe enough. I became a f*cking fool—wandering the hospital corridors in a daze while I waited for the nurses to make Zel comfortable.

It’d been a whirlwind of fear and joy. I hadn’t wanted to watch Zel be cut open and two little lives pulled out, but she made me stay and hold her hand.

It was the least I could do.

And I’d fallen head over heels all over again. She was so f*cking strong. So brave.

Once Zel had been stitched up and the babies cleaned and weighed, Clue and Ben arrived to coo and blow kisses at the tiny bundles in blankets. Ben had seemed more smitten than Clue. His dark skin flushing with awe and eyes filling with future possibilities whenever he glanced at his woman. I had no doubt he had babies on the brain.

I hadn’t gone near the twins. I hadn’t lied to Zel when I said I was petrified. I wasn’t strong enough. I wanted to see them, touch them, but I stayed away for protection.

The moment I’d set eyes on them, I’d been possessed. The love I’d had for Clara increased as my heart swelled for my children. A family I never thought I would have.

I never wanted to be a father. I never thought it would be in my future. I didn’t think I would care for anything or knew how to love. But Clara cured me of that ridiculous notion. She’d taught me what my true purpose was. She brought me back to life and if it was up to me, I’d have a f*cking plethora of children.

I sighed, entering the private room where Hazel rested. It was late, and the neonatal wing of the hospital was hushed.

The bedside light glowed softly, pooling around Zel. I stopped beside the bed, drinking in the tiredness around her eyes, her tangled hair spread on the pillow. She couldn’t have looked more perfect. She’d fought and won. She’d created two intricate, incredible little lives.

Her forehead furrowed while she dreamed and I wondered what went on behind her mask. Oscar had been right about her. She was quiet but there was so much I didn’t know about her. So much she hadn’t shared. I didn’t know who’d fathered Clara. I didn’t know how she got the scar below her eye.

I’d tried to piece together little puzzles of what her life might’ve been like before Clara, but found I couldn’t. She hid her past so well and threw all her attention into her future.

I hadn’t pried because I wanted her to tell me on her own terms. But the curiosity never left. Then again, she didn’t know much about me. We’d come into this relationship hiding who we truly were and found a new identity in each other.

Our baggage had no room to be aired. And I liked to think nothing in our past mattered. If we kept it sealed and hidden, it would eventually cease to exist. Just a distant memory.

Reaching to cup her pale cheek, I swallowed back the overwhelming love.

Her green eyes opened. Foggy at first, but the moment she recognised me, her smile beamed with affection. Affection for me. What did I ever do to deserve her?

She cleared her throat and shifted, wincing a little. “Have you held them yet?” Her voice was hushed in the quiet space only interrupted by low beeps and monitors around the room.

A flash of fear darted down my spine. Hold them. I couldn’t. The past few months had been torturous. Day by day, the conditioning grew stronger again rather than fading.

I’d hoped it would disappear the more I ignored it, but it was the exact opposite—crushing me from the inside out.

“No. I can love them from afar.” I dropped my hand to link with her fingers, tensing a little as her grip threaded with mine. The familiar, unforgiving orders radiated up my arm, coercing with commands to hurt her.

“They’re yours, Roan. You have to hold them. They need to see their father.”

I swallowed hard, looking over at the twin bassinets. The babies were barely visible in bundled up blankets. They wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made Zel my handler.

Not a day passed that I didn’t thank my f*cking genius plan at giving her power over me.

If I hadn’t, she’d be dead.

After the incident in May, I’d had two more episodes. Two more times where she had to leave the realm of my equal and assert command over me. I’d told her how to say it, what tone of voice to use.

“Take your f*cking hands off me, Operative Fox. Stand down this instant.” She cried every time she had to yell it, but at least she was alive. I didn’t begrudge her the power over me. It was the only way to love her and not chain myself twenty-four seven. Sleeping with handcuffs was bad enough.

“Maybe when they’re older, dobycha. Don’t make me. Not tonight.”

Her eyes flashed and the strength I loved about her tensed her body. “Tonight, Roan. It’s important.”

I wanted to scream at her not to push. This was one instant where I didn’t want her help. I needed time. Time to get my head straight and hope to God I had control. I stupidly hoped I could wait till the twins could speak and teach them the command to stop me.