Page 120 of Inevitable Destruction

DOMINIK

“Ghost of You”—Outline In Color

Pain issomething I’m accustomed to. I’ve felt it in daily doses for so long, I’ve built quite the immunity, but nothing compares to this.

I feel like I say that a lot—that nothing compares, but of course, you never know the peak until you reach it, so every higher level brings a new bout, worse than the last.

This time, I’m at the peak, right on the precipice.

Death is on the other side with open arms, finally wanting to accept me. Only, there’s someone on the other side. I can’t see their face, but I can feel them, their touch holding me in place, centering me.

Voices flood in and out, but before I can decipher them, I fall back under the veil keeping me on this side, balancing precariously.

Eventually, the voices stay, growing louder, clearer.

There are angry shouts, the clanking of something metal clattering to the ground, and then, it’s eerily silent. My eyes pinch tighter, the prospect of opening them bringing a round of doubt.

Maybe I should go back under…

“I’ve got you, Dom.” My hand is clasped between two, oddly cold ones. Something niggles at the back of my mind, slicing through the haze.

I crack my eyes open, blinking rapidly against the light blaring above. My retinas burn, my eyes filling with liquid to ease the sting. The first thing I focus on is the clock above the door directly in my line of sight.

It says it’s seven P.M. but I have no clue what day it is or what happened.

I remember everything with Marcus with painful acuity, but after I got in my car, it’s a blur.

“Dom? Can you hear me? Fuck, this feels ass backwards.” My gaze darts to my left, and the blood drains from my face. A ghost stares back at me, pale greens peering into the depths of my soul, ready to snatch it away.

I yank my hand away in fear, in confusion. Her dark brows pull together as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. She tears off a piece of skin, leaving a drop of blood in its place. I watch as her tongue swipes over the bead, and a low growl rumbles through the air.

I tear my gaze away to sweep across the room, finding none other than—

“I wish I could say it’s nice to see you, Dominik,” Vincent murmurs from the corner of the room near the bathroom, closest to the door. I balk at him, uncaring of my pathetic stance given the circumstances.

I’m hit with Deja vu—and not in a good way.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I rasp, hating the pathetic squeak in my unused voice.

“We’re here because of her. Always because of her, I’m sure you remember.” He nods in Essa’s direction, steering my gaze back to her.

She looks at me through her dark lashes, her equally dark, long hair falling in front of her face. The urge I once felt to brush it away is nowhere to be found, and instead, in its place is undeniable doubt.

“We—well, Vin heard what happened, and I needed to come see you, to make sure you were okay,” she explains, but her words are worthless. How could they mean anything after she left me?

“It’s surreal to be here, though.”

Everyone leaves me.

“Why now? You left me, Essa.” Vincent’s growl hits me like he intended it to, but I no longer feel threatened by him.

“Well, she fucking did. She was with me for months, then left with you, leaving me unconscious on my floor, missing you. For months.”

“I don’t want you here.” The words falling from my lips free something inside of me. Some pain, mostly anger.

“You had me when I needed someone, and now, you need me.” Her fingertips trace over my track marks, and I try to yank my arm away, but she tightens her hold, keeping me in place.

“Still stubborn. Glad that hasn’t changed.”

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