Page 30 of The Last Time You Break Me

Why out of a million, that one soul captured yours and you couldn’t even utter the words ‘I love you’ at all.

All that I knew, truer than I knew my heart still beat, was that she was and always had been made for me.

My one in a million.

My warped and twisted, sweet but psycho soul mate.

Sometimes, a whole lot of pain was worth the one moment of bliss.

A road of coals was worth the one moment you got to walk back home to even streets.

She was my end of days and I needed her to believe that this time, I was all in no matter the cost. Even if it was my life, I’d claim her in death.

Dom cleared his throat, and leaned his elbows on the table. His aging face was tired and sullen and he addressed those around the room. “Lara, my love, what happened?”

It meant everything in this room that he was asking her such a question instead of his right hand. It was his way of welcoming her to the table and proving to her that he knew that she belonged here.

After a silent moment of staring at the table, she looked up and met the eyes of her father. “I saw the man that killed our mom,” she stated, as the entire room leaned forward in shocked anticipation. I slammed my fist on the table and leaned forward in outrage.

The entire ride home she kept this from me.

She hid not only what she thought she saw but the pain it would have caused her to live through it.

We killed Frazier Black. We gutted him, broke every bone in his body and peeled layer upon layer of flesh from his dying corpse while he still lived for what he did to Mia Wyelli. He lived through a harrowing and tortuous death. Every. Single. Moment of it.

It was one written for the tales. Fucked-up tales of the worst kind of violence.

Myself and Dom killed that bastard in the most brutal and agonizing way possible that it took us three years. We locked his ass in a basement and dismantled him until his body could no longer withstand the torture and he ultimately died.

He had no child, there were no kids to speak of at all. Not even in the family.

Which worked in our favor when Dom lost his head and slaughtered everyone related to him and anyone who had ever sided with him.

Those dark, hate-filled and venomous years stuck with us. Even to this day I heard that man’s screams and I got hard over the fucking sound of them.

That cunt was the worst of the worst and after what he did to the sweetest, kind-hearteded, warm and most welcoming woman, wife and mother, I felt no fucking remorse for the atrocious acts we committed during that time.

He stole a mother from her babes.

A wife from her husband.

He deserved every last act we committed.

The color drained from Dom’s face. He was taken aback, knocked from his throne as he slumped back in his chair with something that looked like sickness tinting his ghostly complexion green.

“It’s impossible. We killed him, Lara.” I talked for him and gave him this moment of calm to once again find the thoughts I knew were assaulting him right now.

“Fuck you,” Dallas spat in my face.

“That isn’t a face you can fucking forget,” Dylan sneered despite the fact he refused to look up from the table he glared daggers of death at.

“She wouldn’t get it wrong. Not Lara,” Dalton conceded, so much emotion thick in his gaze.

“I said, he looked like him. But it wasn’t him,” she clarified as she leaned back in her seat and relaxed her hands on her lap. I could see her fingers flexing and knew she was itching for another fight.

That restless energy inside of her would build until it exploded and I don’t think she would ever come back from allowing that impulsiveness to corrupt her.

“We killed everybody that he knew. He had no children,” Dom finally uttered, low and uncertain before he cleared his throat and got his head back in the game.

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