Page 84 of Unholy Obsession

Bane has someone in his life who’d bother. Someone who thinks he’s worth protecting. Sure, my brotherpretendshe cares—or he used to—but maybe it was always more about his ego than about me. I’ve been everyone’s afterthought for so long that I’ve practically evolved into it—a walking, talking footnote in everyone else’s life.

But not to Bane.

When he looks at me, it’s like I’m not a punchline. Not a mistake.

He called mebrave.

Me.

So, if telling him about his dad risks breaking that? I’d rather swallow the secret and let it burn a hole straight through me.

Besides, Bane’s obviously got this whole mysterious past he never talks about. Dropping this on him could unravel things he’s worked hard to keep stitched up. Maybe his father’s tied to all that darkness he hints at—the vague references to a life left behind, like shadows he can’t quite shake.

And if I pull on that thread and unravel him, too?

No.

I won’t be the reason he falls apart.

I’ll be his shield. His poison-taster. I’ve been drinking poison my whole life. What’s a little more?

I stand up straighter, squaring my shoulders against the weight of my own thoughts.

I can handle it.

I’ve always handled it.

And if his father comes sniffing around again, I’ll handle that too.

Because Bane sees me like no one else ever has.

And I’ll burn before I let anyone take that away.

THIRTY-THREE

BANE

She doesn’t believeme about who’s the villain and who’s the hero here. I see it in the way her arms wrap around herself and the distressed furrow in her brow.

It’s all wrong.

She doesn’t see what I see when I look at her.

I need to hold up a mirror to make her see the truth. For once in her life, she needs to see the fucking truth.

Because I know what happened to her even if I don’t know all the details. People have taken and taken andtakenfrom her since she was too young to fight back. They’ve told her who she is and isn’t allowed to be. A story was written for her that she never had a say in.

And fuck, do I understand.

I understand because they did the same damn thing to me.

Conditioning is a hell of a thing. It carves deep grooves in the mind—grooves that feel as permanent as the ones on an old wax record. The lies repeat, over and over, until they feel like a songyou’ll be humming under your breath until you take your last exhale.

But it’s still a lie.

And I need her to know she can rewrite her story.

“It’s time you understand—you get to be whoever the fuck you want, Moira.” I step forward, framing her face between my hands, holding her still so she can’t look away. “Tonight, we set you free.”

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