Page 39 of Tears of Ruin

He feared it.

Feared me.

The sad thing was, despite his hatred, some fucked-up part of me had loved him deeply, that small boy who’d only wanted his father’s love. His acceptance of who I was, instead of punishing me for something I had no control over.

I slept with men, not women, and that infuriated him, my body baring the scars of his wrath.

“A king weds a queen, not another male. You will marry Margarette, or so help me, I will have you shackled permanently.”

“I will not become a miserable, self-loathing tyrant such as yourself,” I shot back, refusing to bow to his will. He had run my entire life from birth, trying—and failing—to mold me into an image I never wanted to become. “If I am to wear your blood-soaked crown, it will be on my terms.”

Stephan’s features smoothed, the side of his mouth curling upward. “You have defied me for the last time, boy.”

My nostrils flared at his petty taunt. I was no mere boy. I was a fully grown man, no longer cowering at his feet.

He released me, taking a step back. I didn’t rub my throat, though I’d wanted to, refusing to show weakness in front of him.

I should have killed him in that moment instead of walking away. If I had known what he had planned, I would have.

As I moved through the kitchen, an unnatural stillness clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Every step felt heavier, the weight in my gut turning to lead. The hearth, once the heart of this room, smoldered with dying embers, its warmth long abandoned. Flies buzzed lazily over untouched food, their droning hum the only sign of life in a place that should have been filled with laughter and voices.

I already knew. Some part of me had already accepted the horror waiting for me. But I kept walking, kept hoping, kept praying that I was wrong.

Then I reached the door to Matilda’s bedroom.

A tiny smudge of blood marred the handle—a stark, damning contrast against the worn wood. A chill licked up my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My breaths came too shallow, my heartbeat too fast, the edges of my vision wavering as I forced myself forward.

The door creaked as it swung open.

My mouth parted, but no sound came.

The room was drowned in crimson. Blood soaked the walls, the floor, the very air thick with its metallic tang. And in the middle of it, sprawled in lifeless silence, lay every soul I had ever loved—throats ripped open, bodies motionless in a grotesque tableau of ruin.

The world tilted. The weight in my gut morphed into something far worse.

“We were ordered not to touch you, but your scent is so irresistible.”

I spun to find a stranger behind me. I had lost everything, my entire world, and the bastard had the nerve to smirk, like this was nothing more than a game to him.

“Are you saying my father was behind this?” I ground out, pain and anger flaring brightly inside of me. I had argued with Stephan earlier that morning, and then his words struck me.

“You have defied me for the last time, boy.”

Stephan must’ve found out how much joy the kitchen had brought me, how much I adored Matilda and the others.

“Oh, he was more than just behind this.” The vampire’s smile grew. “And I thought I had a dark heart.” He laughed. “He told us to make it as bloody as possible.”

My body erupted in flames, my jaw clenched, my need for revenge voracious. The vampire tried to get away, but I grabbed him by the back of his head, setting him on fire.

My mind was gone, drowning in loss and pain. By the time I reached the main part of the castle, I couldn’t distinguish who was the enemy and who wasn’t.

I tore through Wellington Castle, destroying everyone in my path, my soul crying out for the people I’d loved more than life itself. Their only sin? Caring about me. Treating me like one of their own, with dignity, with unapologetic love.

With the acceptance my father could never give me.

And Stephan had cruelly ripped that away from me. If he thought this would bring me to my knees, force me to comply, he was in for a rude awakening.

After annihilating the guards outside his bedroom door, I stepped into the room, my flames growing brighter. My mother rose to her feet, demanding to know what I was doing.

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