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Tears streamdown my face as I stumble blindly through the huge house. My heart wrenches—on the one hand, so full of this explosive, magnetic pull towards the man I’m stumbling towards. On the other hand, breaking, for all the time wasted.
All the hatred expended.
All the lies we followed and tripped over.
“Noel saved your life that night. He pulled you from the fire, Ella.”
A sob rips from my throat as I crash down the hallway towards his office.
“If you’re looking for the other glass slipper, Cinderella, that’s where you’ll find it.”
I grip the knobs to the double doors of his office and shove them wide open, barging in with anguish and tears on my face. Noel looks up sharply, his face darkening as he surges to his feet.
“Ella—”
“Why didn’t you tell me!?” I choke, storming across the floor towards him.
His jaw sets, pain in his eyes.
“Ella—”
I slam into him, knocking him back against the wall and grabbing at his arm. Heart hammering in my chest, I shove his jacket cuff up, ripping his shirt sleeve open and sending the cufflink skittering across the floor. I push it high up his forearm, exposing the swirls of ink across his skin.
My pulse thuds, my eyes darting frantically as my fingers trace across the tattoo. Until suddenly, I feel it.
Raised scars, under the dark ink.
I lean close, my chest rising and falling as the blood roars in my ears. My finger traces over it again, until suddenly, as I twist his arm half into the light, the shadows land just the right way.
My heart goes still as I see it; one little word, etched across his skin beneath the tattoo ink.
miné.
And beside it, a little shoe.
My eyes blink as the world goes still. My breath catches, the room silent but for the thumping of my pulse inside my head.
miné.
It’s the second half to myDetér.
One, a word of warning.
The other, a declaration.
Tears slip down my cheeks as I raise my swollen eyes to his. My head shakes slowly as my heart wrenches, seeing the truth right there in his eyes.
“You were on fire,” he says quietly, his nostrils flaring as his jaw sets.
His hand raises slowly, his fingers curling into the front of my top. He pulls at the neck, peeling it away from my chest—from the word burned into my skin.
“I wrapped my arm around you from behind, and the part of the necklace that was against your shirt bit into me. As the part that was against my own sleeve bit into you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I choke. “All these years, and younever once—”
“Because you needed a monster, little one.”
