Destroyed(83)

I’d lived almost ten years in silent persecution before the walls caved, sun shined, and pain rained anew.

A child was my cure.

The daughter of the woman I tried to kill.

It was time to face my past full of darkness and say f*ck you.

It was time to start new memories.





It burned.

How it f*cking burned.

Her every touch scraped flesh from my bones, searing me, helping me forget my past.

Her every look peeled away my crimes, offering neither judgement nor compassion.

Her every laugh shaved away my hopelessness, strengthening my will to fight.

But then there was the conditioning.

On top of her miraculous effect, I battled an entire lifetime of orders running fiercely in my blood.

“Kill her.”

“Annihilate her.”

“We won’t command again.”

“Do it.”

The orders were a constant stream of filth in my head.

I sweated and shook and ached with rapidly increasing urges, intensified with refusal.

Being in Clara’s presence gave me all the self-harm I ever needed. Never again would I need to lift a blade to my skin, or coax my blood to flow. As long as I had her near me, I had both pleasure and pain, hope and damnation, sickness and health.

I could never have guessed my Achilles heel would come in the form of a spritely young girl. But every time I looked at her, I felt myself changing, evolving, twisting. My body fought against the lifetime of discipline, shedding its old scales and rottenness.

The transformation gave me f*cking wings, but it also crushed me. What if Hazel was right? What if I couldn’t keep my oath and hurt Clara just like I did her mother?

I hadn’t meant to snap today. I tried to stop it even as I f*cked her. I just wasn’t strong enough, and that killed me to know how broken my handlers left me.

This isn’t right. Tell her to leave. Run. Never come back.

Looking down at the halo of brown hair surrounding someone so innocent, I knew I could never be a martyr and send her away. That would be a death warrant, and I was selfish—so incredibly selfish—to want both daughter and mother.

My eyes flew back to Zel, trailing after us with a fierce glare in her green gaze. Feelings I’d kept locked away shattered through my walls, swelling in my chest, recognising that whatever bond existed between us wasn’t something I could ever give up.

For the first time, I let myself acknowledge how deep my attraction for her went, how badly my body ached to join with hers in lingering lovemaking and not abusive f*cking. I wanted her to be my first—my first real connection.

I want her to touch me.

The realization knocked me on my ass. I made a vow right then and there to fix myself. To stand up and stop being a *. I wouldn’t stop until I was cured enough for Zel to touch every inch of me. I wouldn’t rest until I was strong enough to hug her and hold her close.

I thirsted to make the dream a reality.

My cock hardened at the thought of her mouth on me again, of her fingers trailing over my skin. I wanted to give her everything that I was—including my scars and tattoos. I wanted her to understand me, so she didn’t have to fear me anymore.

Opening the door, Clara dashed forward. “Wow!” Her bright cherub voice rung around the foyer.

My heart lurched in a mixture of torture and adoration. One thing was for sure: Clara would be my annihilation. She already held the fuse to destroy me completely.

And I didn’t care if she did. I would rather be destroyed by her than live the rest of my life struggling. Clara was my wakeup call. I couldn’t continue living as I had—it wasn’t a life. I wanted more. I wanted her. I wanted Zel.

I was never letting her go.

She was mine.

Her mother was mine.

Mine. Mine. Fucking mine.

Clara danced through my house, her tiny fingers stroking every statue I’d ever made. Just like her mother—she had to touch.

She wrapped stick thin arms around toddler sized bears; she shoved tiny fists into howling wolves’ mouths. She patted owls on their heads, and kissed the tops of ponies’ withers.

Her eyes swam with wonderment, and I wanted to give her everything.

I didn’t care that she ruled me. I didn’t care how crazy and unstable I came across being so obsessed by a child I had just met. No one would be able to understand the sheer freedom I felt after twenty-two years of living in the dark.

Clara was a walking sun, and I would trail after her through unlimited sunrises and sunsets.

My heart erupted into pieces, shattering with hope. Before I could stop myself, I murmured, “They’re all yours. Every last one.”

Zel froze beside me. “What?” Her eyes locked on mine. Amazement flickered, followed by annoyance, confusion. “You can’t. We have nowhere to store them.” She dropped her gaze, her shoulders rising and falling as her breathing accelerated. I didn’t blame her for being freaked out—for being on high alert, watching my every move. She had no reason to trust me and no idea what I’d been through to understand I would put a gun in my mouth and swallow a bullet before I ever hurt Clara.

I won’t obey. Vasily was the last child I would ever hurt.

Zel straightened her back, keeping her face closed off. “That’s very generous of you, but we can’t take them.”