Page 49 of Nocturne
It’s never been this hard to separate what I feel from what’s real. It’s never been this easy to lose myself.
And the truth is... I have no fucking clue what to do now.
If that motherfucker’s trying to get in my way and mess with me, he just made a damn mistake.
CHAPTER 10
HUNTER
“Dude?” Zion slams a fist into my arm, hard, trying to shake me out of the numbness that’s got me trapped. What the fuck’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting hella weird since you dropped off the cash at that shitshow of Damon’s place.”
I wish I could answer. Wish I could fake like everything’s normal. But my head’s a pounding mess, a storm that won’t stop throwing doubts and fear at me.
Grace fills our glasses with cold white wine, her voice soft, almost distant: “You okay, babe?”
We’re on my apartment balcony, the cold creeping in through the open window, the bitter taste of sushi in my mouth, weed smoke curling in the thick air. Everything should be holding me there, with them — but my mind keeps drifting back to that night, that fucking madness.
I kissed Damon.
Every second of that kiss is burned into me, an open wound that won’t heal. I didn’t expect to cave so fast, least of all be the one to make the move. He could’ve killed me right then — a punch to the face, a knife in the chest, a bullet to the head. But he didn’t. He gave in. He met me halfway.
And that’s what tears me apart.
I feel raw, exposed in a way that scares me. The anger that should be eating me up gets tangled with adangerous pull, an obsession growing like cancer inside my chest. I can’t explain it, can’t make sense of this whole fucking mess happening to me.
What the fuck am I doing? Why is this chaos eating me alive?
I want to run. I want to scream. I want to get as far away from this madness dragging me toward him as possible — and at the same time, I crave every bit of that poison, every stolen moment, like it’s the only breath keeping me alive.
I’m lost. Lost in a maze where guilt blends with desire, where fear sinks into my bones, and the need to feel something — anything — keeps me hostage to this internal storm.
I don’t even know where the anger ends and the need begins. All I know is this shit’s eating me alive.
This truce is fucking everything up. It wasn’t supposed to be like this — it was supposed to stay the same, me watching over Damon from a distance, no contact, no getting close. But knowing that any second now he could find out the truth makes me want to rip my own heart right out of my chest.
“I’m fine, fuck.” The answer comes out automatic, almost like a reflex — but not even I believe that half-assed lie. The words drip from my mouth with the taste of blood and iron, and the silence that follows only makes it clearer how far things are from fine. Deep down, I think I’m trying to convince myself more than them. But I fail. Miserably.
Feels like the universe decided to mess with me — a cruel, shitty joke that throws everything I try to buryright back in my face. Or maybe it’s just karma, fucking me over with pleasure, making me pay for every wrong choice, for every sin I carry on my back.
Being close to Damon has been a torture disguised as a mission. A punishment disguised as routine. My obsession with him doesn’t fade. It never did. On the contrary — it grows day after day, slips into me like sweet poison, corroding me from the inside without mercy.
I can’t explain it. I don’t even try anymore. This shit’s been eating me alive for years, like a low, steady fire. And somehow, in some twisted way, it’s what still keeps me breathing.
But now... now he’s here. So close. So unreachable. Exchanging words with him, sharing the same space, feeling the hate pour from his mouth like acid — it’s devastating. It’s like dancing with sharp blades, barefoot, blind, heart exposed. And even so, I can’t stop. I don’t know how to live far from this pain anymore. It became part of me.
Grace and Zion already picked up on everything. They know me too well for me to hide it much longer, but telling them? Impossible. What happened will sound unforgivable. They won’t want to hear the reasons, they won’t see the intentions — they’ll only see the scar. And in it, they’ll read a single word: Traitor.
“You been gettin’ any rest, bro?” Zion asks, voice heavy with worry — but I already know exactly what he’s talking about.
He’s talking about that hell that dragged me down deep, the darkest moment of my life: when I gotkidnapped, locked in an invisible cell of fear and pain, twisted mentally to squeeze every damn piece of info about Iron Requiem, about O’Connor. A cruel experiment that tore me apart from the inside.
The scars I carry ain’t just on my skin — they rip through my soul, tattooing a map of suffering that still rides with me. I ain’t the same no more.
Grace looks at me, her eyes heavy with compassion. “You haunted by those nightmares again?”
They know everything. Every bloody piece of that past. They care — I feel it — but this wound… this one I don’t let open.
Some pains don’t heal, they just get carried. Scars the soul wears like armor, but that same armor cages you tight.
