Page 21 of V for Vindictive

I loved Phillip. The love he had for me may not be the same and I may never get the chance to be with him the way I wanted to, but I wouldn’t abandon him.

I’d fight for him.

I’d be his sword and shield.

I’d always be there, like a shadow, no matter whether he loved me back one day or not. Because that was just who I was. I refused to become what the Organization trained me to be.

I refused to be a heartless, soulless weapon.

Chapter 8

New Kind of Chaos

Phillip

Being a Hunter the way I was and raised inside a facility meant I was no stranger to torture of the mind and body. Very few could break my mental strength, and no length of torture could ever conquer me.

Until I met V.

Nothing prepared me for the torment I’d undergo when I voluntarily left the young spit-fire in Sloan’s care. Mostly because their connection was undeniably strong and it would be unfair of me to expect V to remain faithful. Not when everything I did was to push her away.

I’d given the young Hunter very little hope that our relationship could be more than physical. Even when my true feelings for her slipped out in a misguided moment, I still managed to pivot the conversation to how it didn’t matter in the end.

We couldn’t be together.

I despised myself for what my rejection did to her. It was inevitable in our line of work to sever ties when emotion got in the way. I never struggled to set the necessary boundaries to do what needed to be done to bring down the Organization.

Ich bin einScheiße…

Still, it was vital I remained unattached, especially after Giselle was killed. Becoming tied so wholly with another could only end in tragedy, and I refused to do that to someone again. To endanger her. I locked down my emotions and shut her out, like I’d done so many times before.

So, imagine my surprise, when my walls came down without effort every time V was near; how I easily fell into her hopeful orbit the second her eyes landed on mine. I was swept away by her optimistic drive to have it all, and when she faltered in vulnerable moments, I wanted to pick her back up again and promise she could have everything she ever desired.

Instead, I fell into old habits. I didn’t lift her spirits. I tore her down and refused to let her hope for more. And while I’d never admit it to anyone, not even Sloan, I regretted every word spoken that night V asked to be together. With swift action, much like in a fight, I broke her heart, and the abandonment that distorted her face haunted my every breath since.

And then I got what was coming for me.

Sloan, comforting her the way I never believed he would, kissed V as though I wasn’t a room away. As if I wouldn’t see them locked in a passionate exchange. He and I knew better. Sloan did it to ruffle my feathers; to directly challenge my feelings for her. Most of what the clever Hunter did was meant to derive some sort of response from me. Sloan liked to think himself more emotionally evolved than I, and sometimes I couldn’t argue he wasn’t. But it was a tactic he used enough to be obnoxious.

This time was different, though. Whether or not it started as a game, Sloan was genuinely falling for V. The way he looked at her was the same way I did when I first realized I couldn’t leave the sarcastic lass alone.

His eyes followed her everywhere she went. His body always seemed to be aimed the direction she was in, even when his eyes were on me. TheBrit spoke more, laughed more, and seemed to shed his tough, outer layer around the spirited Hunter. Sloan was just as spellbound as I was, and it was the first time I struggled to do what was right—to walk away.

Call it cosmic punishment. I had done this to V, to myself. I’d abandoned her, leaving the young Hunter with no other choice but to escape into the arms of another.

Sloan had already succumbed to her charms. His smile was always one second away anytime she was in the room. I’d never seen the other Hunter engage someone quite like he did V, and it was laughable to think his association with me might minimize his pursuit of her.

Sloan was a beast on the battlefield. He was kind, strong, and quick-witted. The Brit never hesitated to exploit an opportunity. It was easy to deduce he’d be the same way in love. Worse, I’d practically guided her Sloan’s direction, thinking my longtime friend would do as he’d always done—play politely but never seriously.

But I was naïve. I miscalculated. V was beyond beautiful, brutally strong, and wonderfully witty. Any man or woman would be lucky to claim her as theirs. And the fact that it was I who forced them together sat on my chest, in my throat, replayed in my memory every second I was apart from her.

I didn’t have any right to be angry with either of them, and I wasn’t. To some degree, I wanted that happiness for both of them. But I was angry at myself. I’d convinced myself that if she was happy and safe, that would be enough. But every time I spoke with Sloan and his voice softened with affection as he detailed their time spent together, it was like a blade to the heart.

The night Eros got away, I was barely hanging onto life. I’d managed to trick the Dark Fae into believing he’d succeeded in defeating me by creating an illusion of decapitation with a difficult to produce invention, one that required magic, and then I stopped my heart using a technique I’d perfected over the years. It severely weakened me, nearly to the point of incapacitation, for several weeks afterwards.

Knowing that the two managed to escape made it worth every painfully weak second it took to get back to fighting condition.

Eros could somehow track me, and the very thought of endangering V again was the entire reason I couldn’t return to her side. Not when Cash knew the secret of her blood and tracking him would prove treacherous for my young partner. So, I kept away. I convinced myself it was for the best; that I wouldn’t regret it because V’s life was worth suffering the loss of her heart. But I hadn’t been prepared for the chaos of my emotions, or how even Giselle’s death didn’t compare to losing V.

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