Page 50 of Hidden Echoes

“I decapitated my fiancé and turned his head into a decoration for my room.”

I said I disobeyed sometimes, right? Well, my father made the mistake of letting that disgusting old man get too close, waving a sword around like it was gonna impress me.

He told me he'd use it against me if I didn’t listen. Well, guess what? That didn’t exactly go the way he planned. The rest is history.

Dad wasn’t too thrilled when I decided to use the guy’s head as a decoration on the headboard of my bed. But hey, it really tied the room together.

My master said it was just my teenage hormones talking, but honestly, I knew I wouldn’t marry that man.

I’d rather take whatever punishment came my way than spend a single second with him.

“Mia...”

“My father was furious. But my master saved me, took me to live with him, and taught me his ways. I’ve stayed with him ever since,” I explained, my voice tight.

James hurt me, but part of me wanted attention, affection, comfort—because unlike my father, who never looked my way unless he needed something, James cared about me. And I wanted to see him happy. So being hurt was just a price to pay.

Right?

“And if I told you I didn’t remember much of anything because I was in a universe of my own, you’d believe me?” I confessed, referring to the years I spent with James.

“Why not? I created a universe of my own once too. To deal with the reality I didn’t want to face.”

“What’s your story?”

“It seems silly to talk about my problems when you’ve been through so much. I mean, what I’ve been through doesn’t even come close.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk about it,” I found myself saying, stepping closer, placing my hand on his face, and pulling him to look into mine. “I want to know you. All of you.”

“My mother was a very lonely woman because of my father’s death,” he murmured, his eyes filled with a sorrow that I could feel. “One day, she forgot that he and I weren’t the same person.”

“So she touched you like your father touched her?”

Zane nodded.

"I tried to bury it for years, you know? But eventually, I couldn’t anymore. I snapped. I realized that if I stayed in that city for even a second longer, I’d lose everything I had left. So, I packed up and walked away.”

My eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t stop them.

Why was I crying for him? My uncle had done this to me my whole life—used me, twisted me, made me believe I was nothing more than a tool, a weapon.

He was my master, my creator, and I could never shed a tear for myself. I couldn’t afford the weakness. I couldn’t afford the vulnerability.

So why now? Why did the thought of someone touching Zane—someone I barely knew—make my stomach churn with such a raw, furious ache?

Was it because I saw something in him I never had for myself? The fragility of being cared for, the possibility of gentleness in the chaos? Or was it something darker?

Something buried so deep in me, I wasn’t sure it even existed until now.

The instinct to protect him, to shield him from a world that would break him as easily as it broke me. I hated it. I hated how much it hurt.

And yet, I couldn’t stop it.

So there I was, holding him, feeling his warmth seep into me like a lifeline, and I came to a strange, terrifying realization.

The way I felt about him—it wasn’t just a passing thought, a fleeting impulse.

No, it was starting to consume me. It twisted around my chest, tightening with every breath I took.

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