Page 48 of Monstrous Grave

There’s no one left to save me now.

Blackness seeps into the edges of my vision, and a distant voice echoes in my ears, sounding like his voice. But it’s too late. I’m lifted into someone’s arms, pain and despair swirling within me, nausea churning as searing agony spreads through my cheek.

“Arcane, look at me,” the voice pleads, but I resist, unwilling to face the harsh reality.

I don’t want to see the destruction of what the Grimaldi men did to me—the scar they gave me. I certainly don’t want to meet the eyes of the woman and see the pity in them, knowing I won’t be able to handle it.

The dark, husky voice repeats itself, forcing me back to reality as someone’s hand clamps around my throat. The touch is achingly familiar, causing a hurricane of emotions to surge within me. I force my eyes open and find myself staring into his—Viper’s—eyes.

This time, he’s not wearing a helmet or mask, showing his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and serious eyes. A subtle hint of worry lingers in his gaze beneath the expression of indifference, even though I know his true emotions that he’s too terrified to show lurk just below the surface.

“Viper,” I whisper, my voice barely audible amidst the chaos of my emotions.

The pain intensifies, but I summon the strength to meet his gaze, realizing that it’s truly him and not a phantom of my imagination. Tears well in my eyes, and I despise feeling so vulnerable, but I’m so goddamn tired.

“You found me,” I manage to stutter, voice quivering. I had my doubts that I’d never be found.

“I promised that I would always find you,” he says, but his eyes harden when he looks at me, jaw clenching, a glint of something darker replacing the comfort. “What did they do to you?”

I’m unable to feel the weight of his gaze, so I turn away from him, hiding the ugly mark that mars my skin. Humiliation takes over rational thinking.

His finger hooks under my chin, wanting me to face him. With his other hand, he clamps his fingers around my throat, compelling me to meet his gaze. In those brown orbs, I feel lost and found all at once.

“Never hide from me, my devangel. This makes you no less beautiful. You’re fucking stunning,” he growls out with a possessive edge to his words, sending delicious tremors down my spine. Especially with how his hand tightens around my throat. “And you’re still fucking mine.”

With a solemn sigh, I want to avert my gaze from Viper again, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. But he refuses to let me escape—he has never truly allowed me to let go. My heart squeezes in my chest, torn between the fear of the unknown and future, and the strange sense of reassurance I feel at having him here.

I used to despise him for leaving me, for abandoning me in a man-made world while fighting to survive myself. But I’ve found that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with him, in whatever fucked-up state of mind he comes with—my fucking executor, my torturer, and my obsession.

In his eyes, I see flickers of flames and desire, revealing there’s no escaping him, nor has there ever been. Even when he wasn’t physically present, he was always there—watching over me, protecting me from the shadows, teasing and taunting me. He may lack the ability to feel emotions like others do—something I noticed when we were children—but he cares in his own fucked-up way.

His eyes convey all the things words alone cannot, binding me to him in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend. He was the monstrous grave that shattered everything I once thought I was, yet since his return as Viper, he has been the force molding me into a stronger person who’s no longer afraid of the world.

The muffled sounds around us shatter the moment, pulling me back to reality. Viper’s gaze turns lethal as he glances over my shoulder, his eyes shifting to the men emerging from the shadows, armed and clad in uniform. I recognize them all from the meeting between the Garcías and the Valentis, the one I initially wasn’t invited to. Among them, Peter Grimaldi kneels, bound and subdued by two imposing figures, while his closest men lie dead on the floor.

The unknown woman still hangs from the ceiling, her eyes meeting mine with a scrutiny I cannot place. She assesses me before casting a glare of distrust at Viper.

“Someone take her down,” I demand, my tone sharp as I lock eyes with Viper.

A burly man dressed in a snug uniform grunts in response before swiftly cutting down the chains that bind her. She falls to the floor with a dull thud that resonates in the tense atmosphere.

“Asshole,” she mutters, and I can’t help but smile at her.

There’s something so unknown about her—she exudes mystery and loyalty, her presence commanding respect. I can’t help but wonder where she comes from, but she hasn’t revealed anything. She stands up, surveying the room with a stance suggesting she’s ready to fight, an aura of distrust emanating from her. Her eyes eventually settle on mine, and I nod in acknowledgment.

“They’re with me.”

With a curt nod, she steps closer, leaning in to whisper something meant only for my ears.

“I’m Maven. Thank you,” she murmurs, her gaze softening as she squeezes my shoulder—a gesture that speaks more than words.

Then, without another word, she’s out of the manor, with no one stopping her as she leaves behind an air of mystery.

Confusion clouds my mind as I turn back to Viper. “How?” I manage to stutter, having a hard time understanding the turn of events, especially in the haze I’m still in.

He doesn’t ask about the woman—I know he doesn’t care what happens to her, so I rephrase my question. “How did you get here?”

Viper’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, a mischievous glint swirling in his eyes. “They underestimated me.” He chuckles darkly. “They let me go the moment they took you, not realizing who I was. I’ve been gathering all the Garcías to get you out of here. I’m sorry it took so long.”

---