Chapter 21
Mila
Ten months later.
Senior year of University.
Holding onto the seatbelt, I release a heavy sigh. Damian ’ s eyes shift my way. It ’ s the first art donation of my senior year, and I ’ m first on the list to bring the art to the gallery. The problem is Empire University is isolated. There is a small town with a local bar just outside of its guarded walls, which a lot of the students visit, but the nearest gallery is a few towns over. Most kids use their parents ’ helicopters or private jets to give the art to galleries in New York, but I ’ d rather make the drive and bring it to a gallery that needs it. I found one run by a cute old couple who donate 50 percent of their sales to local charities.
Damian makes the trek with me every three weeks to deliver the art. Most of the time, we drive in silence, both just happy to be free of that school.Other times, we talk, risking to peek inside each other ’ s soot-covered souls.
“ You okay?” Damian asks.
“ Peachy.”
Damian raises a brow.He ’ s like wet cement; at first, he allows you to move away from his prying eyes, then he starts to harden till you can only wiggle, and then you ’ re trapped, forced to reveal all the emotions you have.
It ’ s not a bad thing; these talks I have with Damian help as much as they annoy me. Sometimes, I feel like Damian is the only person who truly hears me now. Titan tries, but he ’ s also clearly the leader of the Kings, and speaking to the boss is always intimidating.
“ I ’ m just nervous about the art.” I lie. “You should really keep your eyes on the road.” I look forward, failing to stress my point because the road is as empty as my heart feels.
“ I will when you tell me the truth.”
Twisting in my seat, I glare at him, “ Stop it! Look at the road.” And stop glaring at my broken soul. “ I ’ m not in the mood today.” I hiss.
“ Those are the days you need to talk the most.” He rebuttals.
“ Smartass.”
“ I know.” He smirks. “ Tell me what ’ s wrong.”
“ You know what ’ s wrong. My skin is not callus anymore. It’s paper thin. Every action Dash makes hurts. Badly.” I whisper.
Damian looks forward and stays silent. We ’ ve all been patient, but nothing has changed. Dash still hates me, yet can ’ t live without me. He still sneaks into my dorm room and sleeps on the floor like a guard dog.
“ I ’ ll,” Damian’s shoulders rise to his ears before they drop, “ talk to him.”
“ I think your talking only makes it worse, Damian,” I mutter as I lean my head against the car window, watching the trees blur by. I feel like them, trapped by the roots that hold me down, watching everything pass by me as I ’ m stuck standing still, just swaying during the thunderstorms that bombard me.
The routine of life feels like chains at my feet. Seeing Dash in the hallway ignoring me and rarely ever meeting my eyes is growing insufferable. I can ’ t remember the last time he looked me dead in the eye. Yet each night, he comes to my dorm, or when he ’ s away on family business, he forces me to spend the night at their campus house in his bed, with just the ghost of his absence lulling me to slumber.
I ’ ve been bearing it. The only thing keeping me going are the very rare whispered conversations at night. They are always at night in the dark, like we are just two scared kids trying to keep each other ’ s hope alive.
The problem is we dream of different outcomes. I pray for Dash to cave and come to me; he desires the opposite.
Dash says I'm a predator with poison, while he has claws. We both attack each other and now we watch and wait to see who falls first. I wait for the venom to take root, but his claws cut me so deep that I think he might win before I can penetrate his walls again.
“ He ’ s not with those other girls.” Damian breaks the silence as we enter the small town.
I nod, keeping my eyes set out the window. That ’ s another thing Dash has been doing. Flirting with others when he ’ s off during appearances for his family ’ s business. His photo is splashed in the tabloids, and so is our engagement. It ’ s made my father furious, having my image dragged through the mud, making it look like I ’ m with someone who is cheating on me.
That ’ s where Dash is now, at a meeting with our fathers.
“ Do you think my father will call off the engagement?” My greatest fear is spoken in a whisper.
How can I want to be trapped with a man who can ’ t say he loves me? Yet, I can ’ t imagine my life without him.
I feel Damian glance my way. “ You and I know that ’ s impossible. I ’ ve seen the contract.”
I haven ’ t. Shouldn ’ t I be able to see what sold me?
“ He ’ ll stop,” Damian assures me.
I feel completely adrift yet trapped, like a buoy chained to the ocean floor, forced to float and withstand the rising waters and thrashing waves.Damian extends his hand and places it on my thigh. I reach for his hand and weave our fingers together. Over the months, Damian has become my favorite person. We ’ re two peas in a pod, both hopelessly foolish. Damian is the brother I never had, the friend who will never blur the line. He ’ s a constant that keeps my feet grounded, not running away or towards Dash. Patiently waiting for Dash to fall so I can catch him this time.
I shouldn ’ t want to catch Dash, but when I saw that look of dread in his eyes as he watched me bleed, I knew he still loved me. He gathered up all the torn paper that our love was written on and caged it.
I want to break it free, tape it back together, and write something new.
Our love might be paper thin, so effortlessly bent and folded, but our desire and devotion to one another are ink-deep; it has spilled over, staining every aspect of our lives. There is no cleaning it, so we bear it, accept it, and wear it like a badge of honor. But it ’ s so terribly haunting, like a war both sides agreed to end—but the ink on the peace treaty is still wet, so neither of us is willing to drag up the memories.
So, how do we fix the future if we don ’ t acknowledge the mistakes of our past?
I ’ m not sure, so in the meantime, I hold onto hope. But I don ’ t want Damian to see my hope in case I fail, so I pester him with my doubts. “ Leopards can ’ t change their spots, Damian.” Dash has linked our love with hate. It can ’ t be separated.
“ True. Perhaps you should focus on outsmarting the leopard, rather than trying to change him.”
“ What are you suggesting?”
Damian looks ahead. “ Maybe,” he pauses, “ maybe it ’ s time to make him jealous.”
“ So, do what I hate seeing him do? I ’ m in this situation because when Dash left me last time, I hooked up with…Dom.” A shiver crawls up my covered arms, causing me to shut my eyes.
Damian squeezes my hand. “ That ’ s not what I meant. I mean,” he heavily exhales, “ start living without him. Start enjoying your classes and hold your head high again. Stop looking for Dash around every corner. It ’ s easy to watch someone suffer. Don ’ t make it easy for him, Mila. Show him you can enjoy life without him. That ’ s the stone that will sink him.”
He slows the car and turns down the street the gallery is on. “ I… I don ’ t know how to be that girl.” Sure, she was always inside of me; I kept her hidden until Dash caught her tongue and forced her to sing for him. I used to be bolder and voice my opinions. Maybe I am changing; after all, I don ’ t dance anymore.
Can I continue to grow strong when it feels like the sun is hidden from my view?
“ You have poison,” Dash once told me, so maybe I need to use it more. Maybe I need to be more like Dash. Take what I need in order to survive this cage we are trapped in.
Dash comes to my room, takes his sleep, then leaves. I can take from him then leave too!
I ’ ll try one more time, go toe to toe with Dash one more time because I know a love like ours is worth the fight. Or an even more tragic ending.
“ Just try. There is nothing wrong with failing. That ’ s how you learn. Then try again and again until he is on his knees for you.” Damian smirks, “ But don ’ t tell him I told you that, of course.” He winks.
If I somehow manage to make Dash love me again, then what? Would he run away with me?
“ If you could go anywhere to escape this life, where would you go, Damian?”
“ Don ’ t try to escape, Mila.” He responds sternly.
“ I ’ m not. I ’ m just wondering where you would go?”
He replies without pausing, “ To Aspen.”
That ’ s surprising . “ Why? Do you ski?”
“ No. King Corporation’s second largest office is located there.”
“ Really?” Why isn’t that public knowledge?
“ Yeah, but it ’ s a secret. It ’ s hidden under an umbrella company. We have a contract with the US military, and we manufacture weapons there.”
“ So, why would you go there?”
“ Because it ’ s my duty. I ’ ll go there after I graduate and oversee things.”
“ But what if you didn ’ t have a duty? Where would you go?”
“ I can ’ t think like that.”
“That ’ s so terribly sad, Damian. You made your cage your home. I never will. Iron walls will never comfort me.”
“Iron can bend with the right amount of pressure, Mila. Learn to bend Dash, then you both can slip free and return without anyone ever knowing.”
“Why can’t you men understand I do not wish to return!”
“Why can’t you understand that the wild open pastures are more treacherous than the walls that bind you.” He snaps then tries to soften his tone. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”
“I don’t want to be safe. I want to be loved.”
“You already have that.” He closes his eyes as if a great pain trembles through him.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper.
“ So am I.” He pats my leg before his hand returns to the wheel. “ I need you too, Mila. You ’ re like the sister I never had. I can ’ t lose you either.”
"Lost things can be found again." My escape doesn’t have to be permanent.
He slows the car and looks at me. "You're not lost."
"I feel like it, but maybe I'll find myself again."
“ I know what it ’ s like to watch someone give up. Please, I know it ’ s selfish, but don ’ t make Dash witness that.”
Each word he speaks builds like icing on a cake—thick and sweet. You swallow it all down, and it isn ’ t until later that you feel guilty. I don ’ t want to hurt any of the King men, but is staying here, trapped with a man who won ’ t look me in the eye, hurting myself more?
“ I will try to make him fall in love with me one more time, Damian.” My voice sounds like faint wind chimes. It could sound so pretty if the wind gave me attention; if Dash gave me attention again.
“ He already loves you,”
I lick my lips, “ You ’ re right. We do love each other, but it ’ s missing something. I ’ ll try to find it.” Maybe it ’ s respect, or maybe it's recklessness, a willingness to throw fear to the wind and just run wild and free.
“ That ’ s all I want for you both.”
“ I know," I mutter sadly.
Damian checks his phone before he lets me out of the car. As usual, Damian sends a team ahead to secure the area before we arrive. I don ’ t mind, not after everything. Memories of Dom and Jared still keep me up at night—so many terrible memories.
“Ready?”
I nod and we go inside to see the gallery owners. Damian at an art gallery always makes me laugh. He stands so perfectly unmoving, you might think he ’ s a work of art. “ This is going to take about an hour. I have to show them everything,” I whisper to Damian as the security team unpacks our car and brings the art inside.
“ Cookies, dear?” The gallery owner ’ s wife has started baking cookies for us every time we visit.
She holds the tray up to Damian. I watch with curiosity as his smile drops. It ’ s as if his flesh thickens to repel the owner ’ s gesture. You ’ d think that tray of cookies was a toxic landfill she was shoving into Damian ’ s nostrils. Why does he always turn so cruel and sharp?
“ I ’ ll wait outside!” Damian harshly replies, then leaves.
My eyes follow him, and I hold a freshly baked cookie in my hand. Everyone loves cookies; they…oh, maybe that ’ s why Damian doesn ’ t like the offering. Cookies remind you of your childhood.