Page 16 of Beautiful Agony

I remember how Lacey's eyes lit up when I first gave her back this treasured piece of her mother. Now it lies broken in my hand.

Just like everything else I touch.

"Where?" My voice comes out rough.

"At the docks" Demyon's tone is carefully neutral. "Looks like someone crushed it deliberately."

Sayanaa.I think, and I feel anger coursing through me at what she's done.

It has to be her. Who else but her would do something so calculatingly cruel?

All to hurt Lacey.

Just like I did.

"Thank you, Demyon," I mutter. "That will be all."

I findLacey in our bathroom, wrapped in a silk robe as she brushes her hair. The sight of her makes my heart stutter. Steam still lingers from her shower, creating a soft haze around her.

Every stroke of the brush reveals flashes of the marks I left on her neck. Guilt and desire war inside me at the sight. She's here, she's safe, she'smine—but I nearly lost her.

And that thought alone is enough to make my chest squeeze.

There's something different about her now. Maybe it's the way the evening light catches in her damp hair, or how the robeclings to her curves. Or maybe it's because for the first time since I've known her, I understand just how easily she could be taken from me.

She catches me staring in the mirror and a small smile curves her lips. "Hey."

Such a simple word, yet it carries so much weight. Her voice is soft, almost tentative. The brush pauses mid-stroke.

I watch her in silence. Each strand of her golden hair hides more of the marks I left on her skin.

"Vadim?" Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. She's watching me in the mirror, concern etched across her features.

I try to look away but can't. The bruises draw my gaze like a magnet. Even though she's told me it wasn't my fault, that she pushed me to it, it can't absolve me of my sin.

She sets down her brush and then, as if she can read my mind, tells me. "Stop torturing yourself about something you can't fix."

But how can I not? The evidence of my savagery is painted across her skin. I step closer, my hand reaching out to ghost over the marks. She shivers but doesn't pull away.

Her permission for my touch doesn't absolve me.

I trace one particularly dark bruise with my fingertip. She tilts her head, exposing more of her neck to me—an act of trust that makes my chest ache. How can she still trust me after what I've done?

"I should have been stronger," I murmur. "Should have resisted."

Shame and self-loathing wash over me. Everything Sayanaa said rings with a terrible truth—Iampretending.

The guilt threatens to choke me.

My jaw clenches so hard it aches as I force myself to meet her steady gaze in the mirror. Those amber eyes that see right through my façade to the monster beneath. The monster I tried so hard not to become, only to fail when it mattered most.

Slowly, her hand rises up and covers mine.

The tenderness in her gesture nearly breaks me. After everything I put her through, she still looks at me with such concern. Such trust.

My voice catches. "I'm glad you're back."

The words feel inadequate compared to the storm of emotions raging inside me. Relief that she's safe. Guilt over what I did. But most of all, this overwhelming need to hold her, to feel her against me and confirm that this is still real.

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