Page 87 of His to Destroy

I blink, confused.

"Stark," he clarifies. "I left him breathing. Broken. He’s in the lowest pit of the prison. I can take you. Let you see what I made of him. Let you see the wreck of a man he became because of what he did to you."

The offer is genuine.

A gift.

Control, returned to my hands after so many years of having it stolen.

I sit back on my heels, staring into his bloodshot eyes.

For a heartbeat, the idea tempts me.

To see him.

To look into the face of the man who stole so much from me.

To see his humiliation, his brokenness.

A part of me—the girl who was left bleeding in that alley—wants it.

Wants it so badly she can taste it.

But another thought worms its way into my mind.

Luca.

What if Stark's face mirrors Luca’s too much?

What if, every time I looked at my son afterward, I saw only the monster who hurt me?

Could I live with that?

Could I live with tainting the purest thing I’ve ever known?

I close my eyes, my heart twisting painfully.

"I never saw his face that night," I whisper. "He made sure of that."

Gaspare says nothing, just holds onto my hands tighter, grounding me.

"And maybe..." I continue, voice shaking, "maybe it’s better that way. Maybe it’s better that the image in my mind stays faceless. Powerless."

I open my eyes.

"I don’t want to risk looking at Luca and seeing Stark instead."

A flash of something—pain, regret, maybe even admiration—crosses Gaspare’s face.

He nods slowly, squeezing my hands.

"You don’t have to," he says. "I only offered so you’d know... really know... that justice was done."

I smile through the tears.

"I already know," I say. "I never doubted you."

His breath catches, his hands trembling slightly around mine.

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