Page 100 of The Dark Obsession

Tyson’s chin dips in confirmation, yet he doesn’t look at me as he continues.

“I’m not sure whether I believe in destiny, but it seemed like a stroke of fate that I had the perfect predisposition to start with.”

“Your numbness.” I whisper, afraid of breaking the spell.

“It turned out to be a useful skill, perfectly suited for contract killing.” His jaw clenches as he suddenly lets me see the pain etched deeply into his soul.

The wounds from a long time ago that were left to fester, buried under an impenetrable layer of nothingness.

Pain so unbearable, the only way to survive it was for Tyson to detach himself from feeling the agony, shutting off all other emotions in the process.

And despite seeing all of this, I refuse to believe that there’s nothing there to salvage.

The first night when I woke up into a real-life nightmare with a masked stranger looming over me, I was paralyzed with shock yet never truly feared the threat he posed.

Maybe even back then those black, unfeeling eyes harbored a hint of reassurance, subconsciously telling me that the man wasn’t there to hurt me.

Maybe that invisible spark between us was the reason I didn’t fight him harder that night, like any other sane person would.

I made it entirely too easy for him.

And I don’t regret it one bit.

“Most of the time, I work at night. The darkness, that’s my element of choice.” Tyson goes on, lost in memories of the past.

“It used to be a way to blend in when I was too young to defend myself any other way, using everything I could to my advantage. In the end, I made it my strength.”

His cold and empty eyes burn when they turn to me, making me drown in their depths.

This isn’t a look of someone who’s hollow inside.

“My demon of the night.” I palm his stubbled cheek, aching for the little boy seeking solace in dark corners.

No child should ever come to know the pain Tyson suffered. And yet he managed to conquer what would have broken most others.

Though it has left a mark. Irreparable damage that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Those wounds will never fully go away. No matter how hard we both fight it.

“I don’t regret my actions. All those men I killed were well deserving of their fate. But don’t mistake me for a vigilante, Malory.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “I’m not the judge or the jury, I’m only the executioner.”

Tyson looks away like he expects me to be disgusted with him, like it would make me think any less of him.

“Any attempt at redemption is lost on me, little one.” Upon seeing the intent to argue reflected in my eyes, he shakes his head. “I’m beyond saving.”

“No. I don’t believe that.”

If anyone ever saw this man as heartless, it’s because they don’t know him. And I feel incredibly privileged to be the only person he allows a glimpse of his true self.

“You have a good heart, Tyson. Others would have raped and chained me in a basement without blinking an eye, but not you. You’ve always treated me with decency, with care and so much more.” I grasp his face, drawing him closer so he sees how utterly convinced I am of the truth of my words. “That’s the real version of you I’ve come to know.”

“Sounds like the bar is pretty low, little one.” He teases, but it sounds forced.

“You’re everything I could have wished for, Ty.”

Maybe I imagined it, but I could swear a spark of hope flashed briefly over his tormented features.

“What do you enjoy about being a hitman?” I ask, wanting to show him that I can be open-minded, not condemning his occupation.

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