Page 163 of Ink Deep Devotion

“I never said that. I said he was very dangerous and highly skilled. The more I dig, the more I think he’s a very valuable weapon in our arsenal. He’s a loyalist to The Rites of Passage, and he’s helping us figure out who is trying to tear us apart.”

I grab my hair, tugging at the roots.“I need to find Mila, Leo. I’m no use to you without her. All I think about is her. I can’t function without knowing she is safe.”

“I will help you find her, and then we need you to help us.” He rolls his shoulders back.“But, Dash, once you find her, what do you intend to do? You can’t cage her; you tried that.”

“I don’t know…” I whisper.

“Titan has Nova by his side.”

“Mila isn’t Nova.”

“Maybe you never allowed her to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always been her shield.”

“I’ve done more harm than protection.”

“Shields, while heavy and burdensome, serve the singular purpose of protection against the enemy in front of us. You protected her so much that you smothered her, never allowing her to peek around your walls and see the evil surrounding us. You were so fixated on keeping her safe that you didn’t recognize you became her foe. The shield became the cage, Dash. You forgot that shields can blind the person holding it. You can only see the whole picture when you’re brave enough to lower it.” He tilts his head; my nostrils flare, smelling burning paint and drywall from the building on fire.

“Teach her how to hold that shield herself. Teach her how to survive and fight, how to be brave enough to look above the shield and find an opportunity to win a battle. Give her every tool she can use to stay alive rather than being defenseless.” He pats my back.“Would you rather she die curled in a ball or running into battle?”

“I’d rather her not die at all.”

“We all must die. It’s part of the journey. You tried to stop her from living. Show her what life is worth living for.”

Chapter 60

Mila

Four weeks later

“This is shit,” Camilla grunts, her lips puckering so tight they look like the knot tying a balloon closed.

“This is the best I can do.” Actually, I think it’s good. It looks exactly like our model. I’m impressed with myself.

“What’s wrong with it?” I throw my hands up. In the past, I would have dipped my chin and nodded.

“It looks dead.”

I look at my drawing and then the model.

“Where is her soul?” Camilla slaps the paper.“Capture it here. Take it out of her eyes and trap it on the paper.” She flips her hair as she turns.“Try again, American.”

???

“How is it possible that you’re getting worse?” Camilla tilts her head, studying my drawing as if it’s a great offense for which she is going to launch a massive attack.

The other students ignore her critique of my work. I pray the rest don’t know English so they can’t hear my level of failure. I know she’s just as harsh with them. I think Camilla likes to fight. She likes to push and pull and see what’s inside.

Good thing she took to art and not a profession with a blade, or I’d be learning from the next serial killer.

“I can’t.” I kick my legs out.“I’m an abstract artist. You feel no passion because I have no passion to draw people!”

“Abstract artists are cowards; they lack discipline and control. Instead of using technique, they throw fits and make shit on the canvas, then sell it to the world.”

“Shit that is sold for millions.”

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