“Why?”
His gaze sears into me with so many different emotions swirling in the
mismatched pools. Regret. Shame. Guilt. Fury. All prevalent as he stares up at me like I’m a fading mirage, and he doesn’t know how to let me go.
“I told you I don’t hide from my failures,” he says softly. “What happened to
you was my failure. And this serves as a reminder every day.”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. Several times, I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Zade,” I finally choke out. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Maybe not directly, but that doesn’t exempt me from blame. Max sold you
out because of the bad blood between us and I should’ve killed him when he first
started giving you trouble. That was my first mistake, and because of that, you
were kidnapped.”
His fists clench and the muscle in his jaw thrums against his skin. Any second
now, it just might burst.
“And that was my second mistake,” he rasps. “My protection wasn’t good
enough. I can’t always be by your side, we both know that, but it was too easy
for them to take you. I won’t make that mistake again.”
His hand drifts through the tendrils of my hair before brushing softly against
the back of my neck.
“I don’t care if I need to set this world on fire until there’s no one left but you
and me. The world will burn around us, and I’ll gladly live in chaos with you as
long as the only person that is a danger to you is me.”
Clenching my teeth, I dig my nail into the rose. He hisses but doesn’t stop me.
“Stop taking the blame for other people being fucked in the head. You didn’t put a target on my head. You didn’t sell me out in the name of revenge and money. And you didn’t kidnap me and sell me off into the sex trade. What you did was find me and save me.”
I dig my nail in harder, a bloody crescent moon forming over the rose.
“You rescued me, and I will never forget that. And the only way I can repay you is by saving myself. Getting stronger and not letting what those sick fucks did to me control my life. I may have cracked, but they did not shatter me. My
rose still has fucking thorns, Zade. Do you understand me?”
Before he can respond, I lean forward and collect the beads of blood on my
tongue. Then, I slowly lick my lips, smearing the crimson around my mouth like
lipstick.
His eyes zero in on the movement, his chest heaving.
“I wanted to know what it tasted like when someone else bleeds for me,” I whisper.
He works his jaw. “I’ll always bleed for you,” he whispers before gripping my jaw in his hand and connecting his lips softly with mine, licking his blood from my lips.
“You’re still my helpless little mouse, but only when it comes to my
irresistible prowess,” he says when he pulls away, gracing me with a shit-eating
grin.
I close my eyes, a laugh bursting from my mouth. A single tear slips out, emotions rising up my throat. The happy vapors are back, and I hope to God they stick around for a little while this time.
“You’re such a prick.”
“No, baby, I’m just the masochist that can’t get enough of your beauty, even
when you draw blood.” He glances down at the tiny droplets sprouting from where I dug my nail into his skin.
I purse my lips. “I guess I’m the prick then.”
Chapter 34
The Diamond
“Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies,” Sibby sings loudly, skipping
around the three wriggling bodies strapped to their chairs. “Ashes, ashes, we all
fall DOWN!” she screams, kicking the back of Rocco’s chair on the last word.
She shouts it so loudly, even I jump.
I let out a long-suffering sigh. She’s been singing all damn day, taunting them
to the point that Francesca has officially soiled herself.
I’ll admit—that was pretty fucking funny.
Zade let her have her fun and get as much information out of the three as possible— after she pinky swore and crossed her heart and hoped to die not to kill them. Unsurprisingly, Sibby has proven to be just as skilled with psychological torture as she is with physical. She made them want to die without
even having to touch them.
I have a feeling it’s partly because of her atrocious singing, but I’m not about
to tell her that.
For the past week, she’s been getting names of people who attend the Culling
every year—whether they come as spectators or participants—the other
traffickers who bought girls, and of course, any information Francesca and Xavier have on Claire.
“Rio Sanchez,” Sibby sings. “Still not going to tell me where he is?”
Francesca rolls her eyes, feigning an attitude to conceal just how frightened she is of a girl circling her like a hungry shark.
It’s not working.
Sibby is scary.
“I told you this already, I don’t know where he is. He helped her escape, and then he fled. That’s all I know, and frankly, I would gladly hand him over to you because I want him dead, too!” she says, her voice ending in a frustrated screech.
She’s flushed bright red and panting. Anger, pain, and frustration all etched into
the harsh lines in her face. Old makeup is cracked and smudging, aging her ten
years.
She is so going to die with acne all over her face and I find poetic justice in that.
I roll my lips, attempting to ignore the sharp pain stabbing in the center of my chest. Anytime I think of Rio and what will happen when Zade eventually gets his hands on him… I kind of want to cry.
My feelings towards him are complicated, and I’m not sure I’ll ever truly understand them. Even more so now that I’ve met his sister and learned that the evil bitch before me was forcing him to do a lot more for her than I initially thought.
I said I wouldn’t feel guilty when Zade got ahold of him. But then he saved
me. And now, I can’t say that I’ll stop Zade… but I can’t say I’ll feel nothing either.
“Do you want him dead because he helped the diamond escape, or because he
betrayed you and put a crack in that icy little heart?” I ask.
Her eyes spit fire while she glowers at me.