Page 179 of Dark Souls

Todayistheday.Today is the day that I kill him.

I repeated those words again and again as I sharpened the leg of the wooden chair I’d ripped apart to a sharp point with a butter knife. This wouldn’t be my first attempt at killing Wesley. Of course, I’d tried many times. I fought him at every opportunity I could but after the first attempt, he’d worn my sigil, which prevented me from causing him any harm. Then I was helpless to do anything when he came, stuck a needle in my neck and then either tortured me or tied me to his bed. For nearly a year, this has been my life. Living in a constant state of fear at the sound of that key in the lock. Before I was given to Wesley, I was living in an abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere. Yes, I was isolated and spelled to never leave, but at least I was more or less left alone. The Devil said that as long as my brother complied with his demands, I’d be safe. But then something changed. Apparently, The Devil said that Luka crossed a line and beat his nephew black and blue. And suddenly, I found myself here.

No more. Today is the day. Today is the day that Wesley dies. I can feel it.

I hacked at the wooden spike harder and with more purpose, ensuring it was as sharp as possible to impale him effortlessly. I may not be able to drive it through his heart myself, but where there is a will, there is always a way. My brother, Lukas, taught me that from a young age. The best solution isn’t always the most obvious.

I grabbed the other dining chair, the one I hadn’t destroyed, and stood on it, getting to work with the contraption that would hang above the front door. I wrapped the ribbon around it, looping it over the wooden beam and then tying it to the inside front door handle. The idea being that when he opened it, the ribbon would snap and the stake would swing straight into his chest without any input from me. He’d murder his own ass.

I brushed my hands together as I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Optimism and hope swelled in my chest. This had to work. This had to be it. Walking into the kitchen, I tugged out a blood bag from the fridge and heated it in the microwave. Pouring it into a mug, I sat on the sofa and stared out the window at the dark Victorian house. He wasn’t home. I could tell because when he was, he always had nearly every light on in the house. I could relax when the house was dark.

Sometimes, he would go weeks without coming for me. Other times, it would be multiple times a week. I had learned to shut my mind off; to go into a state of numbness whenever I was in his presence. He could do what he liked to my body but fuck him if he thought it would break me. I wasn’t his victim. I was a survivor. I’d endured far more pain than he could ever cause; watching my father and brother murdered as a child, my mother dying painfully and having my demon’s soul ripped away from me. It was the not knowing and the fact they used me to manipulate Luka that was worse. Constantly waiting and never knowing if today would be a good day or a bad one.

Brushing out my long red waves as I hummed the Serbian song my mama always sang to us helped rid me of the tension I was feeling. It was a therapeutic action, one that stemmed from my childhood. My mama would spend hours brushing my hair in front of the fire with so much care and affection.

Once the blood had cooled, I sipped the mug, nestling under blankets with my eyes fixed on the house for what felt like an eternity. In the end, I must have dozed off because when I jumped awake, it was to the sound of the key turning in the lock.

My heart seized as if being squeezed by an iron fist as I leaped over the back of the sofa and grabbed the second stake I had made. Standing a few feet away from the front door, I braced myself for either my biggest achievement or my most heartbreaking failure. If this didn’t work, he’d be furious. And I’d be punished severely. But it was worth the risk. The door handle turned. The door creaked open tentatively. I held my breath, lifting the wooden stake in my hand at arm’s length as my green eyes darted up to the stake above, praying the momentum would be enough to actually lodge itself in his chest.

The door opened wide.

I held my breath.

The string snapped.

The stake swung down.

A burly body, almost too big to fit through the doorway, appeared in the frame. I couldn’t believe what I saw when a huge hand snapped out so fast I nearly missed it and wrapped around the wood, catching it mere millimetres from piercing a muscular chest. My mouth hung open. The first thing I noticed was strong, broad shoulders. Muscular, powerful arms. And tall. So damn tall I had to crane my neck. My eyes locked with scarlet irises that blazed so beautifully, just like the fire that I watched night after night burning in the living room.

That wasn’t Wesley. That definitely wasn’t Wesley.

The world seemed to freeze, as if the universe had held its breath, pausing to wait for my stalled heart to beat again. Flares of peculiar heat travelled across my skin, lighting a fire of undeniable attraction, which only grew with every second he silently stared at me. His gaze was so warm and intent, like I was the only thing he was capable of seeing. Even though he was awakening strange sensations I had never experienced before, it didn’t mean I trusted him. His body was a picture of masculinity and raw power. Dangerous. He was a man, after all. And the only man who has never been a monster to me since my family was killed was my brother. This vampire had a key to this house. That could only mean one thing. Wesley had given it to him.

“Stay away from me,” I demanded, raising the stake in my hand up higher in warning.

He gulped, but not out of fear. There was no fear in his eyes, only that unusual warmth I wasn’t used to. That look of awe that I still didn’t trust. Slowly, he let go of the wooden spike and stepped to the side, allowing it to swing gently next to him. He raised his hands slowly, lifting them up by his head, which only drew more attention to those biceps that were bigger than my thighs. Then he did something that shocked me to my core. He got down on his knees. Submission. Vulnerability. It was a strange sight to see a man so large, so intimidating, fall to his knees before me. Something shiny dangled from one of his hands and my emerald eyes widened with fear. My sigil. He had my sigil. No. No. No. Had I been sold again?

“My name is Ronnie, and I’m not here to hurt you. I swear on my life, on every breath I have ever taken and on every heartbeat I’ll ever have, that I will never hurt you, Hana.”

My breathing became erratic, and my head spun with confusion. How did he know my name? Why did he have my sigil? And why did his words sound so sincere, so much so that I could feel tears pricking behind my eyes?

“How did you get that?” I asked, keeping the stake pointing to his chest but using my eyes to gesture to the crystal sigil that my demon’s soul was siphoned to. This man held my life in his hands, quite literally, and I didn’t understand what any of this meant.

“I tortured the man who had it until he told us where you were. And then Ilaria killed him. He’s gone, Hana. Wesley will never hurt you again, I swear it.” His voice choked with emotion, but his eyes blazed with something furious. Something that looked a lot like protectiveness.

“Here,” the man named Ronnie cautiously held his hand out towards me, offering me the sigil.

I stepped back. I kept stepping back until my back met the wall, shaking my head and unable to find any words. Was this real? Was this man really telling the truth? Was Wesley dead?

“It’s yours. It belongs to you,” Ronnie said softly, but I kept shaking my head, beyond confused by the meaning behind that gesture. If he wanted to control me, like all the others before him, why would he hand it over to me?

“I… I can’t take it,” I replied quietly, my voice wobbling. “It doesn’t allow me to touch it.”

Ronnie looked down at it and then made an O shape with his full lips. He lowered his arm, but kept the sigil clasped tightly in his hand. “Would it be okay if I kept it safe for you? Or would you feel more comfortable if I gave it to Ilaria?”

“Ilaria?”

Suddenly, a striking vampire walked through the front door, with eyes so pink and hair so white, she was blinding. I blinked twice as I took in her petite figure in a leather dress, tights and platform boots. She had blood all up one of the leather sleeves on her arm.

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