Page 2 of Ink Deep Devotion

As if that wasn’t enough, my soul was stomped on, pulverized until I couldn’t stitch it back together again.

I imagine Mila is feeling the same agony.

I suppose it’s poetic in a way. We both met our demise together.

Mila made me experience what it was like to truly love. She gave me a purpose to wake up and endure each day, and then she gave me the drive to paint it all red.

The misty air clogs my nostrils as it coats my filthy flesh. Merely a handful more steps till I’m free of these woods.

This is when the nightmare starts.

After all, Cillian said The Cleansing was merely an audition. I still remember the fear in Cillian’s eyes. If a man like him fears, then I’d be smart to as well.

That explains why I did it, why I killed the only good part of myself.

I let Mila go.

I snuffed out the sparkle in her eyes, and in doing so, I ignited a new darkness in mine. I rejected the only thing that brought me joy, extinguished the light that somehow managed to survive in the turbulent world I live in.

That’s why I honestly feel like I’m dead now. Mila was my heartbeat.

Thump, thump, oops, she’s gone.I jerk my head, trying to escape the deafening echo of a flatline roaring in my ears, the sound of a heart that’s stopped and is no more.

I crossed the line with Mila. I made it so there could never be a line again. I shifted our soil, unearthed the very roots, and let us free-fall without a parachute to save either of us.

My fingers flex as I shake Casandra free from them. Killing Jared didn’t cause me to feel as filthy as kissing Casandra does.

I’d kill Jared again without blinking.

Does that make me cold and ruthless? Sure.

Heroic? Absolutely.

Jared threatened Mila, stalked her, and planned to do vile things to her. His death was warranted. Knowing what his plans were made ending him easier than it should have been.

If only Jared's death could have been our happily ever after. But, no, this is reality, and if what Cillian said was true, I needed to push Mila far, far away from me.

I was aware that kissing Casandra would ignite a fury within Mila, so I had to cut her deeper.I always knew I would in order to break her.

That’s why when we first slept together, I chose my words carefully. I asked my little fox if what shewantedwas me. In other words, I asked her ifthiswas the favor she wanted.

I never claimed to be a kind man who didn’t use deceitful words. I forced Mila to recall the night she gave herself to me in the cruelest way possible. I made her think taking her virginity was just to pay her back, and that getting close to her was just a fun game I played with Dante and Cillian.

It worked.

I could see her pupils dilate with pain then panic, like the walls of a ship taking on too much water. Her tears spilled out. I watched her heart fight but then succumb to the pressure of the emotional waves that were drowning her.

I witnessed her believe my twisted truths and lies. Watched as they wrapped around her ankles and then rose up, locking her trembling knees before she inhaled them, drinking them down till they engulfed her. Then I let her sink in order to save her.

You know what hurts? What feels more painful than a knife peeling off my flesh strip by porous strip?

Mila believed me.

I hate her for that.

A hate so gut wrenching it’s swallowing me, turning me inside out, revealing the ugly monster I tried to hide and ignore.

Even if it saves her life, I still loathe that she thinks my feelings for her were just a game.

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