kept hidden behind an iron cage. And instead of caressing him, I’d plunged my sword into the fracture and pierced the fragile body inside, watching as he bled out.
“He’s keeping away from you,” Betsy said. I could barely see her through my blurred vision. “He’s put me in charge of you.”
“He’ll keep you safe, but he’s going to keep you at arm’s length,” Vera said.
“I don’t want him to,” I said, feeling a new kind of purpose pushing through me. One with Arthur as the goal. I would erase the hurt the unwanted ring had caused. I would heal, not widen, the crack in his armour.
“Doesn’t matter.” Vera tipped her head to the side. “He’s fucked up, you know?” She smiled, and I knew it wasn’t in pity toward Arthur. It was with pride. “He kills. A lot. He’s a fucking death-delivering master.”
“I know.” I thought back to the men in Marbella when we were eighteen. How he’d cut them down easily and made the fourth guy cut off his own dick.
“And it doesn’t faze you?” Vera asked.
I tried to find hatred in my heart for what and who Arthur was. But I had always known. I had always known about his family, about what he had done. I’d witnessed it and still gone back for more. And I couldn’t find it within me to hate something that had saved my life.
Twice.
He had now saved me twice.
The world was fucked up. Maybe it took being equally as disturbed to truly thrive. In this moment, with mostly numbness and bitterness running through my veins, it didn’t bother me at all.
“Not like it should,” I finally replied. The women all looked at each other. I saw something like relief, and maybe a hint of excitement, spark in their stares. It made me feel something. It made some cavernous part of me fill with something unknown. But mostly, I let the fact that they were saying Arthur loved me sink into my bones, eradicating the aches.
I couldn’t believe it. A part of me wanted to question them, believe they were winding me up, teasing me somehow, trying to get me to flee Arthur’s home. But I could tell by their open faces that they weren’t. They adored Arthur; anyone could see that. But they were scared for him too. Scared that this life they all loved was swallowing him, drawing him down to a level of hell from which he could never return.
“It won’t be easy,” Betsy said. I wasn’t sure if it was to me, to Vera and Ronnie, or to all of us. Her gaze was lost to the fire raging in the hearth. “He’ll fight it. He’ll test her. Push her to the limits to see what she can take.” Betsy blinked, bringing herself back to the here and now. “He will challenge you if you try to show him your love. He’ll resist, because it’s all he knows how to do. He’ll try to sabotage it. A future he was told he could never have, warned not to have.”
“That’s not a pass for him acting like a complete twat, of course,” Ronnie said, lip curling into a smirk. “Don’t let the arrogant fucker get away with anything that pisses you off. Don’t allow him to treat you like shit.” I found myself smiling at her. She winked. “Push him back. Challenge him back. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”
I tried to imagine a world where Arthur could love me and I could love him freely. I hadn’t ever let myself believe it outside of my deepest fantasies, so it was a difficult concept to grasp. But these women were telling me it was possible. That he wanted me as much as I wanted him. That it was there for the taking, if only I could wade through his darkness to find him.
The flicker of light that apparently still remained.
I was drowning in grief. Crushing waves of sadness were swallowing me whole, dragging me down to the depths. But the possibility of having Arthur—loving him and him loving me in return—was akin to having his hand delving into the choppy, rough sea and pulling my head above water.
I thought of my life now. The strange and unfamiliar path that now lay before me, the one now built from blood and the deaths of those I loved. Unease shuddered through me … but not when I thought of Arthur walking beside me. Holding my hand.
With him in my grip,