Page 109 of Their Dark Rose

The very real Thorn gurgles. I hear a fist connecting to a cheek, but this too has to be a lie. Mallie has never laid a hand on her stepson. She didn’t raise her voice at him after Falk told everyone how Thorn sexually assaulted me.

She wouldn’t let anyone touch him, either, let alone slap him.

Maybe this isn’t a hallucination, after all?

“You have plenty of fun waiting for you before we part ways forever.” A second slap echoes in the little room. “Wake the fuck up, dickhead.”

“Why?” Thorn cries out, his question seeming to last forever.

The soft-haired man kisses my waist. The second one strokes my hair reverently while still pressing the other hand to my mouth.

It feels real. Way too real.

“You touched our flower,” the…Mason? whispers cruelly like only he can. “You touched what’s ours when we’ve been really fucking clear about what boundaries you’re not to cross. Both you and your bitch mom have been warned,”—boom—“and man, do I hate repeating myself.”

Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope is a weapon.

On one hand, you can wield it to protect yourself against life’s disappointments. My hope in my men has remained strong throughout the years. It hasn’t diminished once through the decade I’ve lived under the Abbots’ roof.

I knew one day I’d have them back. Hoping for it saved me from sinking into depression, from worrying if I’ve ever been truly loved by them at all. I was sure they did.

Then there are times like these when that weapon is used directly against you.

I could dare turn around. I could dare look into the holograms of the men I love. I might blink and rub my eyes and wish for them to be right behind me.

Hope would push me to try. And if I found out my men weren’t there, the same hope would crush me.

“Do you hear Mase, princess? Do you hear him bashing the fucker’s head for what he’s done to you?”

My breath hitches, and I sob in response. Unlike my parents, I’ve never been under the influence. Haven’t had a sip of alcohol in my life. I have no idea whether drugs have the power to make you see things this vividly.

But I want it to be real. Fuck, it’s the one thing I’ve wanted more than anything, ever. To have them here.

“We’re fucking him up tonight. Him and his bitch of a stepmother.” Soft-hair guy bites my waist. “We’ll give them the death they deserve. I mean, shit, they deserve a whole lot more. But this will have to do.”

There’s no mistaking the playfulness in soft-hair’s tone. This joy in Finn’s voice at the prospect of violence.

I can hope. I can hope. I can hope.

I will hope.

With the fear of the last of my sanity being shattered into tiny little pieces, I will myself to turn around.

Tentatively, I twist to face the people hugging me from behind.

The person shutting me up releases my mouth. Soft-hair guy lifts his mouth from my body.

This is happening.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, flipping until my eyes finally land on them.

“There she is.” The bottle-green-eyed man greets me first.

He hesitates, which is totally an un-Falk-y thing to do. That’s why I doubt him for a second.

“Princess.” More confident now.

That’s Falk. Couldn’t be anyone but him. The elegant shape of his jaw, his prominent nose, the lips he’s kissed me with a million times over.

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