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With Boris now writhing on the floor, blood gushing out between his fingers where he presses his hand over the wound, I turn my eyes to her.
“How beautiful you are,” I whisper, meaning every word. “A goddess covered in the blood of those who meant to hurt her. I should take a picture of you on a throne like this, though I’d very much prefer it if you looked satisfied and defiant instead of afraid. It’s the bastards who are out to take advantage of your sensitivity and vulnerability that should be scared out of their fucking minds, those who seek to destroy your brilliance just because they can’t rise above it.” I push the barrel into Boris’ cheek as he squirms on the floor. “Like this one.”
“You diabolical son of a bitch,” he cries out, glaring up at me, his eyes crazed from the pain. The blood flows in rivers between his fingers. It looks like he’s about to bleed out fast. This must be an image of pure hell to Sirenna, and it fucking rips my heart apart to know she isn’t taking any pleasure in this. But now she’s had a taste of the real me. I’m not just conning her into wanting me anymore.
I move the rifle to Boris’ shoulder, ready to blow off another part of his body.
“He should consider himself lucky, wild flame,” I say. “Lucky that you’re not an evil piece of shit like him. You’re an angel, and he should be worshiping at your feet, thanking you.” Since I’m showing her who I really am, I might as well go all the way. “Normally, I burn off parts of their body with a red iron until they give me what I want. Shooting them lets them off too fast.”
I poke the rifle into Boris, causing him to wail in that specific mixture of terror and pain that reeks of piss. I laugh as he soils himself.
“Please,” he begs, turning his crazed eyes to her, his hair draped in sweaty strands over his forehead. “Make him stop. I will bow to you. Hell, I’ll fucking pray to you if that’s what he wants,” he shouts. “I’ll give you everything I have, not just half.”
I turn my eyes to her, lifting an eyebrow.
“My queen?”
Sirenna’s fingers are curled into the sofa, her eyes wide.
“It is a good offer,” I say when she fails to speak. “Please remember, the quicker you decide, the quicker his pain ends.”
She blinks a few times as if my words shake her back to reality, then nods feverishly.
“Yes, yes,” she says, her voice cracking.
I reach down, grab Boris by his good arm, and hold him up, all the while keeping my eyes on her.
A shadow falls over her face, and my heart shatters in a thousand pieces, the splinters piercing me inside. She’s not only terrified. She’s disgusted by me. She releases the sofa only to lock her arms around her body, rubbing her own arms up and down like she’s got an army of bugs crawling all over her. The mercenary’s blood splattered over her face, and her cleavage might be responsible for the physical terror, but the ugly truth is too glaring. It was all me. I’m the one responsible for it all.
I take a step forward, but she stiffens. I stop.
What cuts like a knife isn’t the realization that she might find me repulsive–I accounted for that the moment I made the decision to bring her here. To throw the city’s most powerful bastards at her feet. But maybe I overestimated her capacity to put up with a full display of the evil I can unleash–and this was just a taste. By letting her witness the monstrosity that I really am, I might have endangered her sanity.
And that’s something I’ll never forgive myself for.
“You want to get out of here?”
All she does in response is look up at me and stare like she sees me for the first time.
And, in some ways, it is the first time.
“Hi,” I whisper.
She opens her mouth, and I hang on every breath she takes. But not a single word comes out.
Boris’ whimpering gradually turns into laughter. My face distorts into a war mask as I drag my eyes to him. His evil little eyes move from Sirenna to me and back again. I want to crush his skull with my fist every time he touches her with those irises.
“You really are in love with her, aren’t you, prince of hell?” he says with a grin. “Look at you, learning what love is. A human’s greatest weakness.” A grin stretches on his face that makes him resemble a crazy clown. “So what’s the plan with Joseph? Burn off a piece of his body until he signs the divorce papers? And when that happens, will you force her to marry you?” Hatred gives him fuel to stare me defiantly in the face with that stupid grin, even though his body shakes violently, sweat dripping from his hair.
“Surely, you don’t expect her to love you after this?” He laughs out loud, looking from me to Sirenna. The motherfucker is enjoying this, realizing that with everything I did, I only managed to lose her. “Looks like you’re gonna put the underworld at her feet only to get dumped afterward. Ah, this is gonna be entertaining. If I could, I’d sign off more than everything I have to her. That way I could–I could,” he stammers, reeling on his feet, his eyelids drooping. The color has drained completely from his eyes. I tighten my grip on his arm, making him cry out in pain.
“You better stay awake long enough to sign those papers. You’re not of any use to me unconscious,” I hiss in his ear.
I motion to the staff while swiveling him around, and the armed men instantly move out of the way. It’s clear by now who’s the new boss. At the door, I step to the side and hold Boris next to me while some of the men gather the unconscious Laredo from the floor. I watch Sirenna come up to her feet, brushing her hands down her black dress, fully aware that the woman walking out of this room won’t be the same one that walked in. She’ll probably recoil from me ever touching her again, rubbing her arms against my touch the way she does against the crawling sensation that runs through her as she rounds the table, careful not to step on bits of squelching brains.
My jaw locks as I watch her approach. What was I thinking? That I could ever be myself around her? That was never a fucking option. I should have left her in peace from the start, but that was never an option. Our past, the things that bind us, it took a while for them to resurface, but they’ve always been there, buried deep in my psyche. They would have driven me to take her anyway, my instincts screaming to melt into her, the way my soul craved to do ever since I stared at that discarded teddy bear through the rusted bars of an abandoned cot.
Everything inside me tightens when she walks by, my jaw locking hard. Staring down at the side of her face, I wonder if it would be better if I just let her go. Better for her because, for me, it would certainly be pure torture. I’d take being cuffed to a pipe and burned with a flat iron at any time over having to face her absence. A void punches into my chest imagining it.
