Page 108 of Ink Deep Devotion

I did because I thought you’d bend a knee, bunker down, and fight together.

“I won’t risk you. I can’t give you what you want. I can’t hold your hand while we walk across campus. I can’t dance with you at a charity gala. I can’t look at you and smile while others watch. You’ll be a target.” Dash admits.“This is all I can give you. Love behind walls that keep you safe.”

“I’m already a target for your destruction.” I unbuckle and then stumble out of the car.

“Mila,”

“No!” I cry when he rounds the car.“Maybe I’m selfish, Dash,” I shrug,“But I need you. I need to hear you say you love me.”

His jaw clenches.

“Just say it, and I’ll forgive you.”I’d live in your cage.There, I admit it.Just say it. Just me something to hold onto!

“Why does it matter?” He steps forward, chest strong, and proud like this is a battle he refuses to lose.

“It’s the moral of the story.”

“The moral of our story is death! I have enemies, and you will be my wife, but if they know I love you, you will always be the top target. You will never be able to step outside without looking over your shoulder.”

“So, what’s your grand plan?”I exhale, my shoulders deflate slowly, like a balloon left in a corner after a party—forgotten. Lingering until everything inside of it, holding it up, evaporates.

Oh, look, it's nothing but trash littering the floor now. Eventually, he will throw me out.

“You want people to think you loathe me, that I’m nothing but an arrangement. A balloon at a party, merely a decoration you care nothing about, nor did you pick it out.”

His face hardens.

Yes. That’s his grand plan.

I close the distance and tip my chin up so high I almost stumble backward.“I would look over my shoulder gladly, knowing that you’re standing next to me.” My throat is so thickwith emotions that it's like pushing Play-Doh through a straw—almost impossible, incredibly messy.

I look towards the house—my cage.“I need your love, Dash, but you know what I need more.” I grab his hands and squeeze them, then abruptly let them go. I glare into his eyes, knowing this will forever change us. You can’t look directly into the sun without it burning, blinding, and stealing a part of your senses.“Your respect,” I tell him, and then I turn and walk away, leaving him with a stab wound made of my words.

Chapter 35

Dash

Don’t you fucking move!I want to run to Mila and beg her for her forgiveness.

Respect.

I respect her even more for demanding it.

She’s sleeping in Damian’s room tonight, and I let her.

I tried to let her go when I first returned and found her with Dom.

I tried! I forced myself to think of her in Dom’s arms to sicken my heart, but it didn’t work.

So now, we will have to endure love in the depths of frostbitten shadows, shades of gray begging to be saturated by the hands of an unwilling artist who denies the palette of any color.

I refuse to give Mila what she needs.

But, I can’t let her go now, but I can’t have her fully. After all, how can I live without my heart beating in my chest—protected and not exposed?

Leaning forward, the old cracked leather chair I’m sitting in groans, mimicking my weary thoughts.

Then there’s the fucker who keeps sending me pictures of her, fostering my reasons why I need to keep my love for her secret.Why can’t she understand!

---