Page 19 of His Eternal Claim

But if I touch her now, I won’t be able to let go. And if I don’t let go, she becomes a liability.

So, I break her heart. Even as my own chest caves in.

“Yes,” I say, stepping over the newspaper she threw at my face earlier.

Zagreus Vitale, the heir and notorious billionaire, is set to marry Crystella Novak, the supermodel and daughter of Ronan Novak.

She flinches as if I’d slapped her.

I expect shouting, demanding answers, and maybe even tears. Instead, she just stares at me. At first, I think she doesn’t understand. But then I realize she does. Every single word.

I am to marry Crystella.

She looks at the newspaper again.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?” That hope breaks me. “This doesn’t make sense. You hate interviews, you hate the mention of your name in headlines. You’d never give this statement. You can’t do this to me. You said you loved me, Zagreus, you loved me.”

“Yes, I loved you.” My heart stops. “But loving you won’t give me what I want.”

“What do you want now?” She takes a step toward me, standing on her toes and cupping my face. Her eyes are red and swollen. “Say you’re lying. Tell me this isn’t true. You loved me, you love me, you said you’d marry me. Tell me—”

“I said a lot of things, Selene.” I harden my gaze, forcing every ounce of warmth out of my expression until my eyes are the same dead, flat voids my Father uses. Her hand falls from my face as I step back. “Those were the dreams of a boy who didn’t understand the price of his own name. I am a Vitale. I have a legacy to secure. Crystella brings me power. You bring… nothing but a debt I can no longer afford to pay.”

I want to scream.

I want to fall to my knees and beg her to understand that I am lying.

But the sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence.

My silence on the truth is the only shield she has. “Nothing?” she repeats, her voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you now? Nothing? A line on a balance sheet?”

“In this life, everything is a balance sheet,” I snap, the cruelty in my voice turning my stomach. “My Father was right about one thing: sentiment is a luxury. I’ve enjoyed our time together, but the game is over. The board is set.”

She looks at me, searching for the man who used to read poetry to her in the dark. She won’t find him. I’ve buried him under the floorboards of the Cosa Nostra.

“You’re a coward,” she breathes, her voice gaining a sharp, brittle edge. “You’re just like him. You’re becoming the very monster you told me you hated.”

“Maybe I was always the monster,” I counter, taking a step toward her. She doesn’t flinch, and for a second, the fire in her eyes makes me proud. She is so much stronger than this world deserves. “Maybe you just weren’t looking close enough.”

I reach out, my hand hovering near her face. I want to wipe away that tear.

I want to memorize the texture of her skin one last time before I hand myself over to a woman I despise. But I pull back, clenching my fist until my bruised knuckles ache.

“Go home, Selene,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “Forget you ever knew my name. It’s the only way you survive what’s coming.”

“I’d rather have died with the man I loved than live in a world where you exist like this,” she spits.

The venom should be a relief. It should be the wall that finally keeps her on the other side of the fire. But instead of turning away, instead of fleeing the monster I’ve just finished unchaining, she lunges.

Her fingers catch the lapels of my coat, bunched in desperate, shaking fists. She yanks me downward, her face inches from mine, her breath jagged and hysterical.

She’s wearing pink lip-gloss today. I want to taste it. I want to kiss it.

“If you won’t become mine, Zagreus,” she wheezes, her eyes wild with grief, “then I will become someone else’s. Do you hear me? I’ll find a man who doesn’t care about power or legacies. I’ll give myself to someone who actually wants me.”

The sound that rips from my throat is animal.

My hands move before I can think, catching her by the waist and slamming her backward. The table groans as her spine hits the wood, the files scattering.