Page 142 of Claimed In Darkness

A weapon.

A monster.

A thing made for war.

And I wield my blades like I was born for this.

The first time I see Zephiran again, I almost let him kill me.

He moves like a storm, cutting down everything in his path, body slick with blood—some his, some not.

And for one brief, shattered second, I think—let him end this.

Let him drive that sword through my ribs.

Let him finish what he should have done the first time.

Let him erase me before I become something worse.

But that’s the problem.

He won’t. Why is he trying hard to save me?

Even now he can’t let me go.

Even after everything I have done.

And I hate him for it.

Why does his presence make me remember?

He makes me feel something in the middle of this chaos.

He makes me hurt in ways I don’t have time to understand.

I wanted him to stop fighting for me.

His blade finds my throat before mine can. I let him.

I want to see what he will do.

I want him to look me in the eyes and admit that I am already dead.

That the woman he loved no longer exists.

That this is the end.

But he stops. Coward.

His sword presses against my skin.

The pressure is there. But the killing blow?

It never comes.

What is he waiting for?

Me? The Naira he knows?

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