Chapter 29
Mila
What have I done?
I feel blissfully unaware of all the repercussions that are headed my way.
I did it.
I pushed Dash until he broke, shattered into my arms, deep inside my body.
I loved every dirty second of it, of having him inside of me again, of feeling filled by him and no longer empty.
I ’ ve felt depleted for so long that even being filled with his disdain for his feelings for me felt euphoric.
I just need to keep breaking him until he realizes it ’ s not a sin to say he loves me. I need him to stop worrying about the future when we ’ re fortunate enough to have the present.
Am I strong enough? I honestly don ’ t know.
“ You okay?” Blaze asks as he joins me at the sink to clean his paintbrushes.
I nod, glancing up to see paint splattered on his face. “ Thanks for the shirt,” I reply. I was in such a daze that I walked right into a wet canvas, soaking my shirt with paint. He had an extra shirt in his bag and offered it to me. It fits me like a dress, but it ’ s clean and won ’ t leave paint marks on everything I lean against.
He flashes me a smirk laced with concern as if I ’ m a pie he over-baked and is trying to salvage. “ You love him, don ’ t you?”
I grab my brushes and submerge them under the water. This sink represents Dash and me. Dirty, but also trying to clean a part of ourselves with that filthy water. Colorful, but also diminishing and evaporating, slowly desaturating as the water mixes with the paint, diluting it just like our fears of the future are tearing us down; pretty in an abstract way, but also gritty and ugly from a different point of view.
I clean a few more brushes before I reply. “ I do,” I admit with a whisper.
“ You should have a love that allows you to shout it to the world, not whisper it in fear, Mila.”
Salty wetness coats my eyes. “ I ’ m not scared of him,”
“ I know. I see the way he looks at you, but I also see how he treats you.”
“ I ’ m trying to change him.” I shouldn ’ t admit that to Blaze. To anyone. After all, Blaze is my friend, but in our world, that word is fleeting, like a rare comet painting the night sky.
Did it really even appear?
One day, Blaze could be my enemy.
“ Just,” he splashes the water around like he ’ s trying to paint out what is so hard to speak, “ be careful. I know you ’ re forced to marry him, Mila, but you ’ re not obligated to give him your heart. Save that until he earns it.”
My hand stills under the water. “ How did you get so wise?” Why do you never show the world this side of you, Blaze? You ’ ve fooled us into believing you are a goofball who can ’ t take his responsibility seriously. That ’ s your cover, isn ’ t it? Your way to escape your duties until they are force fed down your throat.
“ I have enough brothers to start an orphanage. I ’ ve seen them break plenty of lassie ’ s hearts, and I don ’ t want to see your heart break again, Mila.” Worry thickens his voice as he answers.
We grab soap and apply it to the bristles of our brushes to keep them from losing their shape.“I ’ m going to miss you when we graduate.” I tell him.
“ Don ’ t remind me. That ’ s when I ’ ll have to fall in line with Dad ’ s orders.” His face hardens as he looks at his paint brushes with longing, like he ’ s a creature that is outgrowing his shell. He knows they will be separated, he will have to give up art and go into his family ’ s business. He ’ s helpless to stop it so he ’ s trying to enjoy every second in the shell that can no longer house him.
We grab another set of brushes and begin to clean them slowly, enjoying our fleeting time. “ Have you ever told someone you love them?” I ask. He ’ s open about his sexuality, dating both men and women, and his father accepts that. Blaze doesn ’ t judge. Instead of making others fear him, he always tries to make them laugh. He ’ s an enigma.
Blaze laughs. “ I tell too many people that. My mother said if I bring home another person I say is the love of my life, she ’ s going to deny me entry to the house.”
We both laugh, but then our eyes meet. “ You ’ re a very special person, Mila. You ’ re not like the other chicks in our world, and that makes me worry about you.”
Hidden under the water, I find his hand and grip it so no one else can see, “ I ’ ve survived this long.”
“ Have you?” He squeezes my hand back, eyes lingering, before he slips his hand free.
“ Is numbing surviving?” His brow lifts. “ I ’ m not judging,” he quickly adds. “ I ’ m numbing myself, too. Painting, partying, fucking — that keeps me nice and numb.”
He lets out a bitter, snorting laugh. “ Surviving is harsher, more raw, and more arduous. I ’ m not ready to endure that. Make sure you know the difference between the two because when survival comes knocking at our door, it ’ s not going to be a friendly guest we invite in for tea and cakes. Survival takes everything, Mila. I don ’ t want to see you lose everything it is that myself and others love about you.”
The water hiding my hands feels colder to the touch.
He ’ s right. Surviving would be denying Dash, forcing him to choose, and pushing me to accept that. You can numb yourself with love and hate, but can you survive just one?
Only love? Only hate?
“ I ’ m here if you need me,” Blaze mutters before he turns, hands dripping wet as he leaves me.
I get a terrible image of his future, of those hands that make such pretty art, dripping with blood. I trudge to the door, exhausted and ready to go back to my dorm to sleep, but then my face falls when Titan is standing at the door and not Dash.
He flashes me his famous smile, which doesn ’ t reach his eyes. “ Are you ready?” he gently asks, his eyes searching my face.
He knows what Dash and I did!
“Hey,” Titan reaches out and pinches my cheek, “We’re all adults, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything.”
Kill me! What’s worst than Titan knowing I let Dash fuck me in the classroom is Titan trying to comfort me about it.
I swallow and look down. “ Where ’ s Dash?”
Titan tips my chin up, forcing our eyes to meet. “ I love you like a sister; you know that, right?”
“ If you were my brother, what would you tell me to do, Titan?”
“ Practice safe sex.” He smirks, eyes hopeful that I ’ ll laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood. But I can ’ t laugh because this isn ’ t a show, it ’ s my life.
His shoulders drop as he reaches for my art bag. “ I want what is best for you, and deep down, I know that ’ s Dash. But I also want to kill him.” He mutters.
The night wraps around my skin, making the marks Dash left feel more like burn marks. “ Where is he?”
“ He asked me to come get you.” Titan swings an arm around me, tucking me into his side in a brotherly gesture.
“ Can you bring me back to your house tonight?”
His index finger taps against my shoulder. “ Dash isn ’ t home.”
Where is he?
“ That ’ s okay. I ’ d rather sleep there tonight. I ’ m getting a new roommate, and I ’ m not in the mood to meet anyone new.”
“ You ’ re what?”
We turn, heading towards the parking lot instead of my dorm. “ I ’ m getting a new roommate. The admissions told me this morning. My dad approved it.”
“ Hmm,” Titan huffs as if he ’ s not sure he agrees with that.
“ Is…Is Damian with Dash? I don ’ t want him to be alone.”
“ No, but Cillian is. Dash flew to New York for a couple of days.”
It feels like a clamp snapped around my kneecaps. I know what the guys do when they go to New York to visit Cillian. They fight, bloody and hard, more violently than their fight club in the nearest town.
Cillian owns a gym where he trains the most ruthless fighters, but I think the men there don’t just box. I think Cillian is training an army for himself.
◆◆◆
Saturday night.
I pack a bag and plan to spend the entire week in the art studio. It ’ s normal—the huge supply rooms have plenty of sofas that students always crash on. Apparently, Dash doesn ’ t like it because I get a string of texts throughout the weekend.
It ’ s so easy to be brave when texting. No one hears my hesitation when I pause before pressing send.
Dash: Get your ass back to your dorm or my house. Now!
Mila: Make me. Oh wait, you can ’ t because you ’ re in New York.
Dash: Don ’ t test me.
Mila: I ’ m a straight-A student. Try me.
Titan sleeps on one of the empty couches, complaining the entire night that sleeping on the ground is more comfortable. All day Sunday, two of my dad ’ s guards take Titan’s place after his father requests him, forcing him to leave campus.
I paint all day Sunday, painting until my mind turns fuzzy from the high it gives me. I don ’ t have to think; it ’ s an escape—bliss, freedom—just me, my paints, and an empty canvas.
I still focus on abstract art, although I would like to try more figurative subjects; it ’ s just that I ’ m scared. I fear capturing an image, perhaps of myself, would be…monstrous. My brush shows what a mirror keeps hidden. It shows what hides inside of me.
Until I ’ m brave enough, I keep experimenting with contrast, thick lines, and textures that are pleasing to the viewer.
Pleasing. Not yet brave enough to make the viewer cringe.
I ’ ve discussed this with my art professor. He was so supportive and chill, but it still shocks me most days. “ Don ’ t force it. If art is your therapy, then allow it to help heal you, but Mila, remember that we will never grow if we don ’ t try something new. You have to spread your roots to expand.”
At four a.m. on Sunday, I clean up and leave the studio, passing the two guards, but instead of exiting the building, I make my way to the rooftop.
“ Miss..” one of them shouts, and the other pulls out his phone to make a call. I ignore them. They never touch me. Dash or my father could order them to drag me back to my dorm, but they never have.
Pushing open the door, I step outside and inhale. Students come up here to paint all the time; all the scattered paint stains and discarded brushes prove there is no harm on this roof. Only memories, aches, and pains are trapped under the stains. Some kids come up here to smoke weed and chill. I started to come up here to see the night sky before I went to sleep. It ’ s a way for me to calm my mind after the day.
I don ’ t go to the edge; even I know my guards have limits. I stay close to him, sitting against the stairwell wall while he stands guard at the door.
“ I ’ d prefer you not on the roof. I value my life.” He grunts.
“ If they threaten you, I ’ ll stop.” My head tips back, and I take in all the stars. They shimmer like all my lost hopes, slowly drifting farther and farther away from my sight until, one day, they will burn out entirely.
“ He ’ s on his way.” One guard whispers to the other.
I close my eyes. Did they mean Dash?
A warmth spreads in my belly. I get to my feet and slowly make my way down the stairs. It isn ’ t until I ’ m halfway across campus that it happens. Chills kiss the nape of my neck, spreading like a lost lover's fingers over my skin. My guards turn and leave. Even they don ’ t want to bear witness to our twisted love. Then, out from the dark night comes my dark knight.
The cool moonlight air is nothing compared to the fury radiating off Dash. I feel his shadow press against my back. Each step I take is with bated breath as I walk back to my dorm.
I want him to speak first. He doesn ’ t until I open my door.
What did I expect, him to grab me, throw me against the wall, and bury himself inside of me again? Did I think one round of sex would make him confess more of his fears to me?
I know this is going to take time. I need to thicken my skin, but I ’ ve had all I can handle tonight.
He steps in front of me, trapping me as he guides me back to the living room wall. “ Where the fuck were you?”
I search his face for bruises and broken bones since returning from Cillian ’ s fighting unit. He ’ s clean physically, but mentally, it ’ s shining in his eyes. Dark shadows cover them.
“ You haven ’ t slept,” I whisper as I reach out to touch his jaw, but he jerks away from my hand.
So it ’ s his hate and disgust I ’ ll be getting tonight.
His eyes glance lower. His hand touches my hip, sliding up to the collar of my shirt. “ Whose shirt is that, Mila?” He yells, eyes completely feral as he looks at my clothing. “ Who ’ s shirt are you wearing?”
Oh shit! Okay, this looks intentional, but I honestly didn ’ t mean for it to happen. I want to provoke Dash, but I don ’ t want to make him wonder if I ’ m cheating on him. I would never hurt him that way.
I brought Blaze ’ s shirt back to him after I washed it, but I ’ m a mess, and I make messes. In an attempt to squeeze out every last drop of paint from the tube, I splattered my clothing again, so Blaze just told me to keep the shirt. So I slipped it back on and haven ’ t changed out of it since I entered the art studio on Saturday.
“ I…I was just borrowing it.” Believe me. “ He ’ s just a friend.”
Nostrils flare. “ Did I give you permission to have a friend, Mila?” He ’ s jealous and hurt.
I meet Dash's eyes, wishing mine didn ’ t water with tears. I want to reach up and kiss him, to take all his fears and erase them. He ’ s lashing out now. I should have expected this.
“ Dash, p-please,” I mumble, feeling a pressure build behind my eyes. “ just leave me alone. I ’ m tired.” I try reverse psychology.
Something flashes in his eyes, a softness I rarely see. A knowing sense that I need him just as badly as he needs me tonight. He ’ s going to sleep in my bed and not on the floor. I sense it, and it tugs at my lips.
“ Mila, I—”
Suddenly, the door to the vacant dorm room opposite my tiny living space bursts open.
Oh shit! I forgot about my new roommate.
I ’ m such a terrible roommate! The administration told me I was getting a new roommate this weekend, but instead of offering help, I was stuck in the art studio, and now, at four in the morning, I ’ m having an argument with my… fiancé/lover/ the guy who hates me.
A girl steps out as she begins to clap her hands. Dash turns, shielding me from seeing her.
She keeps clapping as Dash ’ s hand slips behind his back. That ’ s when I see it: a matte black gun tucked into his pants. I frown as a tear slips free.
Has he used that gun before? Recently?
I want to take his hand in mine and kiss his knuckles until they feel clean again.
“ What a wonderful first impression.” My new roommate announces.
“ Who the fuck are you?” Dash steps forward as his hand touches the gun. I reach out, forcing his hand to grasp mine instead. His fingers flinch, but then he squeezes my hand, reassuring me he ’ d never let anyone hurt me… except him.
“ She ’ s my new roommate. They told me I was getting one.” I push up and whisper into his ear. “ Don ’ t shoot her!”
“ I ’ m Nova, Nova Baladan. You are interrupting my beauty sleep, and it seems you ’ re bothering my roommate. If you don ’ t mind, kindly get the fuck out of this room before I make you regret it.”
Oh. My. God!
Nova is signing her own death certificate. However, I don ’ t think she gives a fuck.
I love it!Nova's exactly what I need in my life. A bulletproof vest, a boot to kick me in the ass and tell me to keep fighting until Dash is on his knees.
Nova speaks so confidently that it has my mind freezing. No woman in our world speaks to men like that, no girl who wants to remain alive. We ’ re dolls, and dolls just nod and look pretty.
I step out from Dash ’ s side. Wow, she ’ s stunning, tall, and lean like a model with long black hair. I touch my stomach after seeing her hard abs.
How does she get a body like that? It ’ s on display since she ’ s wearing boxers and a sports bra.I look from her to Dash, but his eyes remain respectfully on her face and not lower.
Will she try to flirt with Dash like my last roommate? I get the feeling that Nova would skin Dash alive and make a pair of boots out of him.
“ You ’ ve had your fun with her. Does your dick feel bigger now that you bullied her and trespassed into our room?”
I bite my lip, but I also can ’ t help the giggle that slips free.
I like her. I ’ m worried she won ’ t survive the night, but I like her!
I glance up to see Dash grinning back at her. A cold, sinister, serial killer-like smirk.
“ Dash, don ’ t.” I plead as I grab his forearm.
“ I forgot to tell you I was getting a new roommate. Please,” My plea turns into a whisper so Nova won ’ t hear how weak I am. I want my new roommate to think I ’ m a rope—able to endure stress—not a rubber band ready to snap. Hell, at this rate, she ’ s going to think I ’ m even weaker than that, as flimsy as a strand of dental floss.
“ Do you know what you just did, Nova?” Dash emphasizes her name like he ’ s calling forth his hellhounds to hunt her down. “ You just marked yourself. You ’ re a dead girl walking now.”
Great. I get a roommate with balls, and Dash is going to ruin any bit of pleasure I have outside of him.
I expect her to back down. That is what a sane person would do.
She ’ s not sane.
Instead, she flashes Dash an equally scary smile. “ Yeah, I ’ m a cold-hearted bitch. Make no mistake.” She steps closer, abs clenching, biceps flexing. “ But if I ever see you manhandling her again, you ’ ll be the dead one, little boy. Now, shoo, shoo.” She waves her hands in the air dismissively towards him.
I laugh, eyes wide, half dazed from lack of sleep.
Dash turns and glances at me, but for some reason, he doesn ’ t make a move against Nova.It was because I laughed. He ’ s happy to hear that sound coming from my lips again. I am, too.
“ You knew about this?” He asks me.
I nod. “ They told me on Monday. My dad approved of her file.”
He holds my eyes. “ I need a friend.” I mouth. “ Please.”
“ She ’ s not your friend,” He whispers back.
My shoulders sink. “ Are you staying?” I ask, hoping Nova can ’ t hear our conversation.
“ No. You have a new roommate to fill my spot.”
“ Dash.” I grab his arm, but he tugs it free.
“ Be careful.” He warns both of us, then he leaves.