Dreadnought (Nemesis #1)(30)

“But now I-I know the truth no one would tell me because they thought they were protecting me.”

No one is who they seem. She hadn’t felt this alone since she had first gotten her scars.

“All you had to do was ask. I would have told you everything and anything you wanted to know about me, about the family. I told you I would never lie to you, and I meant it. You were just too scared to ask, because then it would have been real. That’s why I was waiting for you to ask me. I wanted you to be ready for the truth.”

Her eyes drifted back to her lap, knowing he was right. That was why she hadn’t asked him.

“And yes, they thought they were protecting you, but I didn’t agree with it. They lied to you; pretended to be something they weren’t. I never have. I’ve made it obvious who I am since the beginning. I’ve only ever wanted you to see me for who I am, Chloe.”

She remembered back to the night he had repeatedly slammed the bat down on the lifeless body, and how he had looked right into her eyes, showing his true self …

The thought that was meant only for her passed her lips, “You’re a killer.”

“Yes, I am. I have killed many and tortured more.” The dark voice filled the space between them.

Chloe kept wringing her now tortured hands at how visible the monster in him was. She needed to get away from him. Far, far away.

Trying to calm herself, she began repeating the words, “Amo will come for me.”

Lucca’s voice turned deadly. “He’s a killer, too, darlin’.”

She started shaking her head, not wanting to hear it.

“He’s killed, and so have Nero and Vincent.”

Shaking her head harder, she refused to believe it. “No, Elle wouldn’t be with—”

“She learned to accept it, just like you will.” He said it like it was a promise.

“Amo’s not like you.”

“No, he isn’t,” he agreed. “Amo pretends to be something he’s not with you.”

Again, she shook her head, not believing.

She repeated the words of her last hope, “He’s going to save me.”

Standing, he went to the other side of the desk, towering over her. “You think Amo will save you from me?” He took a strand of her hair, wrapping it tightly around his finger.

Her breath caught in her throat, her words no longer able to come out.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

When she didn’t, he tugged the dark silk he held captive.

Chloe raised her gray depths slowly, meeting his blue-green ones through her lashes.

“No one is taking you from me, darlin’.” Tugging her hair once more, he brought her closer to him. “You’re mine, Chloe Masters. You have been since the moment I saw your scarred face. You just didn’t know it.”

For four long years, her body had been claimed by the one she had believed to be the most heinous of beings, but now she could feel the old bonds the devil had placed on her breaking, and new chains were taking its place. These chains were heavier, tighter, showing her that she had been claimed by a more evil being. Her body had been claimed by the boogieman.

Unraveling the strand around his finger, he was so close, almost brushing his fingertips upon her neck.

Slamming her eyes shut, she waited for it, for the moment when he would finally touch her. But seconds passed, and it never came.

She opened her eyes to find that he had already disappeared. However, the chains were still there, just as heavy, just as tight.





Twenty-Two





This Was It; The Time Had Come





Chloe had fought off the nightmares every night since the last time, but not tonight. Her body now belonged to one monster, while her mind and soul still belonged to another. Letting her demons come for her, there was no use in fighting them anymore …

Her one final hope of being saved from the devil had disappeared. No one was coming to save her, and if someone did, it was far past too late. To save her now would mean that someone worse would have to take her soul from the devil and claim it as their own. However, a man like that shouldn’t—wouldn’t exist, and if he did, that wouldn’t be saving her at all …

“Chloe … Chloe, wake up and everything will be okay.” The repeated words brought her out of the nightmare.

Opening her eyes, she saw Lucca sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with the ends of her hair that rested on the pillow.

Afraid, she quickly sat up, scooting away from him, the nightmares and her tiredness not helping.

“You really think I would hurt you, darlin’? After seeing you like that?”

I don’t think you understand what you mean to him, Maria’s words echoed in her mind.

Balling up her fists, her nails touched her palms and a wince of pain reached her face.

“What’s wrong?” Lucca began studying her.

“N-Nothing.”

Turning on the bedside lamp, he looked back at her, seeing that her balled-up fists were tainted pink. “Let me see them.”

“I-I’m fin—”

“Either hold them out, or I’ll do it myself,” he cut her off.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, her hands shook as she uncurled them, revealing her inflamed and bloody palms.