Page 60 of Ink Deep Devotion

“That’s so terribly sad, Damian. You made your cage your home. I never will. Iron walls will never comfort me.”

“Iron can bend with the right amount of pressure, Mila. Learn to bend Dash, then you both can slip free and return without anyone ever knowing.”

“Why can’t you men understand I do not wish to return!”

“Why can’t you understand that the wild open pastures are more treacherous than the walls that bind you.” He snaps then tries to soften his tone. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe. I want to be loved.”

“You already have that.” He closes his eyes as if a great pain trembles through him.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

“So am I.” He pats my leg before his hand returns to the wheel.“I need you too, Mila. You’re like the sister I never had. I can’t lose you either.”

"Lost things can be found again." My escape doesn’t have to be permanent.

He slows the car and looks at me. "You're not lost."

"I feel like it, but maybe I'll find myself again."

“I know what it’s like to watch someone give up. Please, I know it’s selfish, but don’t make Dash witness that.”

Each word he speaks builds like icing on a cake—thick and sweet. You swallow it all down, and it isn’t until later that youfeel guilty. I don’t want to hurt any of the King men, but is staying here, trapped with a man who won’t look me in the eye, hurting myself more?

“I will try to make him fall in love with me one more time, Damian.” My voice sounds like faint wind chimes. It could sound so pretty if the wind gave me attention; if Dash gave me attention again.

“He already loves you,”

I lick my lips,“You’re right. We do love each other, but it’s missing something. I’ll try to find it.” Maybe it’s respect, or maybe it's recklessness, a willingness to throw fear to the wind and just run wild and free.

“That’s all I want for you both.”

“I know," I mutter sadly.

Damian checks his phone before he lets me out of the car. As usual, Damian sends a team ahead to secure the area before we arrive. I don’t mind, not after everything. Memories of Dom and Jared still keep me up at night—so many terrible memories.

“Ready?”

I nod and we go inside to see the gallery owners. Damian at an art gallery always makes me laugh. He stands so perfectly unmoving, you might think he’s a work of art.“This is going to take about an hour. I have to show them everything,” I whisper to Damian as the security team unpacks our car and brings the art inside.

“Cookies, dear?” The gallery owner’s wife has started baking cookies for us every time we visit.

She holds the tray up to Damian. I watch with curiosity as his smile drops. It’s as if his flesh thickens to repel the owner’s gesture. You’d think that tray of cookies was a toxic landfill shewas shoving into Damian’s nostrils. Why does he always turn so cruel and sharp?

“I’ll wait outside!” Damian harshly replies, then leaves.

My eyes follow him, and I hold a freshly baked cookie in my hand. Everyone loves cookies; they…oh, maybe that’s why Damian doesn’t like the offering. Cookies remind you of your childhood.

Chapter 22

Damian

“Watch her,” I order the team. Crossing the road, I lean against the brick wall of the coffee shop and watch Mila through the window as she nibbles on the cookie. Her eyes keep glancing at me, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she starts to ask me more personal questions. She’s careful about it, never prying too much, as if she’s scared to push me away and be truly alone in this world.

Cookies.

The last time I had a cookie was the day my mother killed herself. She baked them, filling the house with the sweet smell before she ruined it all. I remember her filling up a huge glass of milk and handing it to me, along with the entire tray of cookies. My small eyes went wide with excitement. Usually, she limited me to 1 or 2 cookies, but that day, she offered me the whole tray. She left as I began to devour everything; maybe she hoped the sugar would seduce me into an early nap.

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