Page 28 of Promises in the Dark

I took a long swig, the taste of cheap alcohol burning down my throat, just what I needed to take the edge off. I savored the burn, relishing in its bliss.

“Was my father’s favourite,” she answered. “I drank it with him.” I capped the bottle, the metallic click echoing in the air before I tossed it back in the trunk, not giving a shit where it landed.

“What a surprise, you’re a daddy’s girl,” I stated, a bit mockingly.

Red’s anger flared, her eyes flashing with hurt and rage. “He is dead, you cold bastard,” she replied bitterly, her words hitting me like a fucking hammer.

It took me a second to process that.

“Shit, I am sorry,” I mumbled, and for once, I actually meant it.

As I locked eyes with Red, her face started to crumble, and I could see the tears threatening to spill. A damn tsunami ready to break loose, and fuck, it caught me off guard. Left me feeling awkward as shit. It was one of those cheesy moments, the kind where you’re supposed to be tender, understanding, all that crap—but hell, that wasn’t my style. I was more at home with bullets and blood than I was with emotions or whatever the fuck this was.

Something stirred inside me, an unfamiliar tug of concern. Against my better judgment, I reached out, my rough hand grazing her cheek. My touch felt awkward as fuck, like a virgin fumbling in the dark. I had no business doing this shit, but there I was, stumbling through it like an idiot.

Red didn’t cry, though. Her body trembled under my fingers, like she was searching for something—something I couldn’t fucking give. She swallowed her tears, chin trembling, and there I stood, like a dumbass, not knowing how the hell to comfort her.

“Fuck,” I muttered, frustration spilling out with my breath.

Her face was on the edge of breaking apart, delicate features hanging by a thread. She was a fucking contradiction—a mess, but beautiful in a way that sucked me in. Her green eyes, fuck, they were like some kind of oasis in a desert. And that wild red hair? Made me want to run my hands through it, feel it tangled in my fingers.

I was used to the fucked-up and broken. I liked finding solace in the wreckage of other people. But Red? She was different. Off-limits. Forbidden. No matter how much I wanteda taste, I couldn’t have her. She deserved someone stable, someone not built to destroy everything in their path like I was.

Her vulnerability tugged at my darkest desires, making me want to claim her, protect her from all the chaos. But I knew better. My own darkness would eat her alive, leave her in broken fucking pieces.

It was a goddamn torment.

I wasn’t wired for this sentimental bullshit. I could break bones, not mend hearts. So I stepped back, my hand pulling away like a scolded dog. The moment evaporated, replaced by a thick wall of discomfort. I was a soldier, a hardened bastard who lived for violence and detachment.

Not some fucking simp.

“Enough with this shit,” I grumbled. “I’m not your therapist so save your tears for someone who gives a fuck.”

Her lips trembled, and the hurt on her face was impossible to miss. But I kept going, defenses up, burying any trace of sensitivity deep down.

“Look,” I continued, my tone biting and harsh. “Life’s a fucked-up mess, and nobody’s gonna hold your hand through it. So, quit your whining and toughen the fuck up.”

I watched the pain in her eyes deepen, a twinge of guilt pricking at the back of my mind. But I quickly pushed it aside, refusing to let my walls crumble.

My gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. There was a part of me that wanted to stay, to protect her. But I knew better. This was war, and personal attachments? They were a fucking liability.

I closed the trunk with a forceful slam, and turned away. My gaze flickered towards Red, her eyes filled with hurt and confusion. But I couldn’t fucking bear to look at her for another goddamn second.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from her, my heart pounding in my chest. The way she challenged me, stood up to my bullshit, it turned me on like nothing else. The conflict within me was raging, tearing me apart. I wanted to pull her into my arms, apologize for being a bastard. But my pride, my fear—they held me back. I would be the cold-hearted, ruthless bastard that I needed to be.

The vulnerability that came with giving a damn was overwhelming, and being an asshole seemed so much fucking easier, so much safer.

Chapter 9

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Igripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white as I navigated the dark, twisting road. Red sat beside me for what felt like a fucking eternity, her vulnerability and torment evident in every sweet line of her body.

And it turned me on in the most fucked-up way.

I shot her a quick glance, watching her delicate fingers clench and unclench in her lap. It sent a bolt of heat straight to my core. Her trembling lips, the way her fingers gripped the seat—fuck, it drove me wild. It took every ounce of self-control not to pull over and ravish her right there, to lose ourselves in a tangle of limbs and raw, animal pleasure.

I stole another dirty look at her, her vulnerability like a damn siren’s call, tempting me to throw away all decency. I could almost taste her, feel her skin under my hands, but I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus on the goddamn road.

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