Page 118 of Ink Deep Devotion

Some think a gunshot to the head is always a guaranteed instant kill. I’ve heard other opinions; some scientists think it takes a few minutes of lingering paralysis as death devours you. Like that tree branch freshly cut, it needs time to dry out to realize it will never grow another leaf, taste another season, or feel the heat of the sun.

I wonder which is true?

I wanted my dad to suffer.

I did.

I did?

I lick my lips, raise my hand, and run my hand down his eyes, closing them.“I know we didn’t agree, but I don’t agree with this.” This death is too quick. It’s not by my hands.

We have too many things that need to be spoken, Dad.

I lower my lips to his ear, still feeling the heat from his body, but any second, that heat is going to fade away; oh wait, it already is.“I’m going to make them pay because that’s what Mom would have wanted. You’ll get to see her now. Tell her I miss her and love her.” I whisper.

I begin to pull away, but I feel like a fish with a hook in my cheek; something pulls me back, and then I hesitate before I press my lips to his ear again.“I love you too because you gave me the tools to keep Mila safe.”

Mom taught me how to love, but that is never enough to keep the person you cherish breathing. Fucking blinking and responding!

Dad showed me how to hate, how to kill and be a monster. It’s not hope that keeps love thriving; it’s a potent mixture of hate and the skills to keep death at bay.

Thanks, Dad.

Chapter 40

Mila

Silence reigns, broken only by hushed whispers that cut through me like bullets whizzing past. Knowledge never fully hits me; it only burns me with the little words I catch.

Where is Dash?

I’ve called to no avail and tried to run from my father’s house to go to his, but they have trapped me. Truly, this time.

While the surface world is in shock, the underworld, those who live in the shadows, are fleeing. The apprehension in the air is so tangible that it’s suffocating. It feels like a pillow is being pressed against our mouths more aggressively each day. Every inhale is becoming harder and heavier. Everyone is gasping, pleading for a safe breath and another day to live.

Fingers are being pointed faster than heels can turn to flee. People are praying Lucas and Elijah King don’t mark them as associated with the killing of their brother.

The media have marked it as a crazy man obsessed with the elusive billionaires who made the final shot. However, since Elijah controls the media, the story quickly dies down after onlytwo days. It’s starting to feel like it didn’t happen. No one will post about it for fear that their entire company will be brought down to dust under the hammer of Elijah King.

Knowing Dash is trying to acknowledge the death of his father alone feels like a layer of hell. This will be the nail in the coffin. I know it. Someone managed to kill a King, and if Dash feared one of his enemies could target me before, then this now sets his greatest fears into reality.

I was so close to breaking him, to hearing the word I’d dreamed of, to living the dream that he would proudly hold my hand as we walked outside, kiss me under the moonlight, and not give a shit about anyone watching. If we died, then we would have swallowed our last breath with pride, knowing we loved each other to the fullest.

I was so close I could taste it, feel the ashes falling when we made love. Yes, all the sex without looking into my eyes was love. It was to me. Looking into each other’s eyes, connecting our souls was too much for him to bear. He loved me too much to look me in the eye and lie.

It’s tragic, twisted, unconventional, and that’s our love. We’re not a pure rose thriving in the summer’s warmth; we are a blackened petal fighting to survive winter, one single petal clinging to a thorny stem parched of water and nutrients, struggling to spread its roots in frozen tumultuous grounds. One might think it’s dead, but as long as we are attached and have our thorns protecting us, then we can survive.

“We need to find a loophole and break it.” That’s the last thing I heard my father say before my guard pushed me along the hallway, past his office, and into my room.

The contract is the only thing keeping Dash and me together. Our marriage is now threatened, and I’m afraid Dash will support a separation if they find a way to get out of the contract.

Nova texted me, but I haven’t responded. I know she was trying to check on me, but Nova’s way of showing support is unconventional. If I replied, she’d somehow convince me to do something.

Nova: Bitch, did the bullet hit you too because you’ve been MIA since the news broke! BTW, this is as emotional as I can get, so in other words, I’m checking to see if you’re okay.

The lock to my bedroom clicks as our maid enters with a tray of food.“I’m not hungry.” I glance away, walk to my window, and look down. Can I make the jump?

“You need to eat.” A deep voice mutters.That’s not my maid.

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