“Holyfuck,” I breathe. “You’re here.”
Something tight explodes in my chest at seeing her. Not fallen into a pile of pain and sorrow, but looking vengeful, ready to smite everyone for daring to piss her off. She looks too good like that; I’m tempted to kneel for her right now.
“Of course, I’m here,” she says, rolling her eyes. Doyle continues to flail, and she leans down, snatching the keys. “When you didn’t come home, I went to find you.”
“How?”
Standing on her toes, she uses my body to steady her balance as she unlocks my hands. “The tracker Hayes sent you? It works both ways.”
Thank you, Briar.
Once my hand falls, I wrap her into my arms, inhaling at her neck. She’s here—warm, whole.Mine.
“Why?”
She curls her hands into my hair, tugging me back to glare at me. Touching my chest, right above her mark on me, she says, “You said next time you left, to kill you. Hayes told me you wentto track down Ronan. So we did a little bit of digging. And if you weren’t being held, I planned on making good on that promise.”
My angry little Devil.
“I heard what he said,” she whispers. Those green eyes glare up at me, confused. “I heard what happened. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Why didn’t I explain why I left? Why didn’t I confess to always doing it for her? I could’ve—I could have explained and forced her to listen.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Princess,” I murmur. “You hated me for leaving you, and you had every right to do it. You’re a stubborn pain in the ass who won’t change her mind unlessyouchange it. I could fucking paint you a picture, and it still wouldn’t have made a difference. I promised to stay, and instead, left you to fight the demons alone. I’m sorry.”
Pressing a hard kiss to her temple, I inhale her orchid and violet scent and let myself enjoy this. For one second, she’s here, in my arms. Like this, I know nothing can touch her—her ghosts, the evil of the world, the Board. It’s her and me, inevitable as always.
“But you leftforme.”
“Everything I do isforyou.” I sigh. “I couldn’t let you be married off—used like cattle. So, I did what I had to do, which led to me being gone for so long.
“I took my punishment. I was owed it. And I knew eventually you would be mine again. I just had to be patient.”
“So, everything I said—everything I did?—”
“Was child’s play,” I taunt. “If you didn’t really want me, you could’ve been meaner. Hell, you could’ve killed me. We both know you’re capable of it. I just had to wait it out, accept the hits, and keep coming back for more. To prove I wasn’t going anywhere.”
Because that’s what my girl needed—to see I would be here through the bad. It took months, but now she knows. I’m devotedonlyto her.
Without another word, Maeve pats my chest and turns toward the discarded saw. Grabbing it, she kneels over Doyle’s gasping body and waves the saw. I see it before he does—the black in her eyes as her demon possesses her. The true side of her that feels like home to me—twin darkness that was spilt between two hearts and destined eons ago.
The saw cuts into his torso, and those screams—God. I’ll remember those for all eternity and fucking smile with giddiness every time. It’s a chorus of angelic chants, and I lap it up, depraved and twisted.
It’s a glory mess and takes her much longer than it should. But she needs this—this is his penance for coming after her family—and her throne. I’m sure the Board would not have put up as much of a fight if Doyle hadn’t been wronged. He’s a fucking nuisance, but he made his fate—and my girl is going to hand it to him like the Moirai.
Once she gets to his heart, the man’s eyes are vacant, and his body doesn’t move. He’s dead, but she doesn’t care. Cutting the veins and arteries, she works through the ribcage. The cracking of bones and squish of slippery organs slips through my ears, and I swallow, drool pooling. This would turn off most men. Me? I’m debating if pulling her panties to the side right now would be too fucked up for her.
Standing, she yanks the heart free. She’s sweaty, covered in various bits, stained red up to her elbow. And she has the cutest smear of blood on her cheek, which makes me smile.
She deposits into my hands. The heavy heart is solid, blood soaking into my palms. It’s more than a simple offer—to hold the heart of the man I threatened to do this.
But it’s not a punishment to Doyle—it’s not even revenge. It’s her promise to me. Maeve is symbolically handing my heart—it’s wicked, scarred, and bloody, but it’s mine, if I’ll have it.
Looking at me expectantly, her eyes are so wide, I can see all the thoughts—the emotions. The uncertainty, the fear. It only twists inside my chest, combatting the soreness and aches.
She’s asking me—begging me—not to leave again. That by handing me this heart, she is completely mine, as long as I’m hers. As long as I stay.
She’s showing me the wickedness that’s always existed, and is trusting me not to hurt her again.
