Page 110 of Claimed In Darkness

Whatever I have become—it does not fear.

It does not break.

It does not shatter beneath Zephiran touch or crumble beneath his gaze or tremble under his fucking need.

It devours.

It consumes.

And it never lets itself be owned.

I feel his gaze like a physical thing, burning into my spine, dragging over my skin like a silent accusation.

But he remains silent.

He does not know how to ask me what he already fears.

That I am not the same woman he once chained to him.

That I am not the same girl who once swore to kill him, to hate him, to never let him win.

I am something else entirely.

I turn to him, unhurried, measured, knowing exactly what he is seeing.

Not a woman.

Not a thief.

Definitely not his.

Something beyond him.

His mouth opens, but no words come.

What could he say?

What could he possibly ask?

"Are you still mine?"

"Did I do this to you?"

"Do you still want me?"

No.

He already knows the answer to every single one.

I do not need to explain myself.

I do not need to justify this.

Not anymore.

I leave him standing there in the ruin of our choices, in the blood-soaked dirt where I killed for him, where I changed for him, where I became this.

The wind is cold against my face, the night stretching endlessly before me, my own body too light.

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