Page 107

"I couldn't lose you, too," she whispers. She moves to me, dropping to her knees, her hands finding my face. "We can be together, Ace, we just have to stay."

I look at her, and somehow everything begins to fall away. Every stolen moment, every kiss and tender touch. Every I love you a lie.

"Leave." I pull my face from her touch, the feel of her sending more pain through me than any beating I've ever received.

"No…" She crumbles, eyes filling with tears. "I love you, Jax. I've always loved you."

I turn my face. I can't watch her break.

The doors open once more, and Vincent returns, his hands finding Melina's shoulders. "Time to go, little sister."

"No, please, let me stay. Let me explain." She turns, her voice urgent.

"Enough," Vincent snaps. "It's time for Ace to receive his punishment."

I hear her scream, her begs, her pleas as he pushes her out of the room. Every single part of me wants to call out to her, to tell her I love her, too, that we'll find a way, but I bite my tongue. She's the reason we're still here. She's the reason we'll never leave. And whilst my love for her still exists, a new feeling is building, forming, completely consuming me.

Hate.

I hear the beep of the IV machine beside me, the warm feel of liquid shooting through my veins, sending a heat into my chest I've never felt before. My whole body comes to a still as every sensation begins to relax. My head lolls forward, and in that moment, I know whatever poison my mother chose is now cursing through me.

My eyes snap open, my chest so tight I'm sucking for air, but nothing flows through my lungs. I shove Melina away, scrambling to my feet and shove out onto the balcony.

I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe. Everything around me blurs, my head spinning and chest aching. Every inch of me is trembling. I grab hold of the railing, praying to God I either die in this moment or finally feel a breath of fresh air in my lungs.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Amora

He was gone before I properly woke. His side of the bed still smells of him.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the music box in my hand, wearing the least revealing dress I can find. The black satin cascades over every inch of my curves, the hem tight against my breasts.

He'll be here any moment to collect me for the date I manipulated him to create. My hands itch against the gold metal of the box in my hands, the glass shard sitting safely inside. Last night had been everything I needed, a moment that was just for me. Jax probably thought it was out of desperation, and in some ways, it was. I needed him to make me feel something that wasn't pain. I needed his hands to replace the feel of Vincent, and more than that, I needed to feel alive. And I only ever feel that in these walls whenever he is close.

I needed it because it may be my last. I don't know when the decision had been made, maybe it was when Vincent had me pressed against the wall or the fact I can't take the thought of spending another night with him forcing himself inside me. This is it. Tonight would either be the end of my life, or the end of my captivity.

Opening the lid and pulling up my dress, I take the shard from the box and slide it into the straps of my underwear. The jagged edges dig into my thigh as I stand, and the boots behind the door are my signal that he's here. Normally, I'd be drowning in fear. I'd be suffocating at the thought of him and his hands, but tonight, I feel a calmness I haven't before. Because no matter how tonight ends, I'll have found freedom somehow.

The door opens and he steps inside, his eyes lighting up as he drinks in the sight of me. I drop my gaze; it's too much to watch as he devours me whole. Stepping forward without saying a word, I loop my arm into his like the compliant robot he believes he's created.

"You look beautiful," he whispers as we move out the threshold and through the manor halls. I offer him my most fake smile in response. We continue the rest of the way in silence, each step drawing closer to the moment I end him for good. He opens one of the double doors, the smell of candle wax and smoke hitting me instantly. My eyes widen to the towers of book cases wrapping around each wall.

"I remember you said you liked to read. Here you'll find whatever fits your taste," he whispers, leading me to a table in the centre. A white cloth lays over, wine glasses and plates set up neatly on top whilst soft music plays through the room.

This would have been romantic. It could have been if it had been with anyone else.

We take our seats at the table. He sits opposite me, and I'm grateful for the small distance between us that allows me to breathe. Maids wander in and out of the side door, pouring champagne into our flutes. Their eyes never reach mine, but their faces tell me everything I need to know. They're scared. Scared to mess up and set him off, scared to breathe around him in case he notices.

That was me once, but not now. Not tonight. The jagged shard of glass stays pressed against my thigh, the thin trickle of blood leaking down my skin. A reminder of the goal I've set for myself.

Wafting out his napkin, he places it onto his lap and takes a small sip of his champagne. His eyes are a little lighter than usual; I'm not sure if it's from the candle light or the fact he's truly begun to believe that this is real.

"Let's begin with a toast." He clears his throat, raising his glass. I match with my own. "To us, Amora. To the beginning of a beautiful relationship, and honestly, to you. For learning to let me in." Our glasses clink together, and I fake a smile that reaches to my eyes.

"To a night we'll never forget," I say, my voice darker.

"Cheers to that." He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So what do you think of the date so far, Amora? Is it what you'd hope it would be?"