Chapter 40
Mila
Silence reigns, broken only by hushed whispers that cut through me like bullets whizzing past. Knowledge never fully hits me; it only burns me with the little words I catch.
Where is Dash?
I ’ ve called to no avail and tried to run from my father ’ s house to go to his, but they have trapped me. Truly, this time.
While the surface world is in shock, the underworld, those who live in the shadows, are fleeing. The apprehension in the air is so tangible that it ’ s suffocating. It feels like a pillow is being pressed against our mouths more aggressively each day. Every inhale is becoming harder and heavier. Everyone is gasping, pleading for a safe breath and another day to live.
Fingers are being pointed faster than heels can turn to flee. People are praying Lucas and Elijah King don ’ t mark them as associated with the killing of their brother.
The media have marked it as a crazy man obsessed with the elusive billionaires who made the final shot. However, since Elijah controls the media, the story quickly dies down after only two days. It ’ s starting to feel like it didn ’ t happen. No one will post about it for fear that their entire company will be brought down to dust under the hammer of Elijah King.
Knowing Dash is trying to acknowledge the death of his father alone feels like a layer of hell. This will be the nail in the coffin. I know it. Someone managed to kill a King, and if Dash feared one of his enemies could target me before, then this now sets his greatest fears into reality.
I was so close to breaking him, to hearing the word I ’ d dreamed of, to living the dream that he would proudly hold my hand as we walked outside, kiss me under the moonlight, and not give a shit about anyone watching. If we died, then we would have swallowed our last breath with pride, knowing we loved each other to the fullest.
I was so close I could taste it, feel the ashes falling when we made love. Yes, all the sex without looking into my eyes was love. It was to me. Looking into each other ’ s eyes, connecting our souls was too much for him to bear. He loved me too much to look me in the eye and lie.
It ’ s tragic, twisted, unconventional, and that ’ s our love. We ’ re not a pure rose thriving in the summer ’ s warmth; we are a blackened petal fighting to survive winter, one single petal clinging to a thorny stem parched of water and nutrients, struggling to spread its roots in frozen tumultuous grounds. One might think it ’ s dead, but as long as we are attached and have our thorns protecting us, then we can survive.
“ We need to find a loophole and break it.” That ’ s the last thing I heard my father say before my guard pushed me along the hallway, past his office, and into my room.
The contract is the only thing keeping Dash and me together. Our marriage is now threatened, and I ’ m afraid Dash will support a separation if they find a way to get out of the contract.
Nova texted me, but I haven ’ t responded. I know she was trying to check on me, but Nova ’ s way of showing support is unconventional. If I replied, she’d somehow convince me to do something.
Nova: Bitch, did the bullet hit you too because you ’ ve been MIA since the news broke! BTW, this is as emotional as I can get, so in other words, I ’ m checking to see if you ’ re okay.
The lock to my bedroom clicks as our maid enters with a tray of food. “ I ’ m not hungry.” I glance away, walk to my window, and look down. Can I make the jump?
“ You need to eat.” A deep voice mutters. That’s not my maid.
“ Damian!” He and another man block my door. I want to rush towards Damian, but the other man makes me waver. He ’ s tall and muscular, marginally bigger than Damian, just as handsome, but lord, he terrifies me. He has a short mohawk and tribal tattoos on the sides of his head that extend down his neck. His wide arms are covered in a black shirt, but when his hands appear again, more tattoos cover his knuckles. But it ’ s what he holds that makes me think today might be the day I die.
“ Why do you have an ax?” I step back, eyes glued to the polished, sharp blade in his hand.
“ I told you to put that away. It ’ s scaring her.” Damian grunts towards the man. “ This is Anders,” Damian answers as he comes forward.
“ Why does he have an ax?”
“ Anders is weird. Just ignore him.”
Anders grins. Jesus, is that a smile or a smirk from a predator who is hungry for blood? I take a step back, which only makes his grin stretch wider.
“ Stop looking at me like that.” I snap instantly, regretting it.
“ How should I look at you, Mila Michelson?” Anders purrs my full name with a sadistic delight. “ As my target instead?” He rubs the hilt of the ax with his thumb.
“ Knock it off.” Damian steps in front of Anders. “ Don ’ t give him attention. He craves it.” Damian tells me.
“ Don ’ t be shy, Mila. I think you can handle me. You certainly have Dash wrapped around your tiny fingers. What about you is so captivating?”
Damian rolls his eyes. “Look at me, Mila.” He demands.
“ How,” I shake my head, “ How did you get here?” I close the gap and hug Damian, then I make a mistake. I can ’ t help it. I glance at Anders again. He winks! It sends an electric shock through my body, making me tremble. All of a sudden, the bars of the cage surrounding me don’t sound so cold and lonely.
“ Where is Dash?” I whisper.
Damian ’ s arms enclose me. I inhale deeply, smelling his scent, and then I begin to cry. “ Where is he, Damian?”
“ We ’ re going to take you to him, hopefully.”
I tip my chin up, but then Anders says, “ We need to go. It ’ s time to make our appearance.”
Damian cups my cheek, “ Just trust me.” The lethal look in his eyes has my heart sputtering.
“ Please don ’ t hurt my father.”
“ We won ’ t.”
“ Who ’ s we?” Anders's laugh sounds like the start of a symphony the devil would applaud. “ The man locked you up.” He swings his small ax in the air, creating a whistling sound.
“ Anders, knock it off.” Damian rubs my biceps to halt the shiver, trying to cover me.
“ Fine,” he holds up his hands with the ax in a tight grip. “ I ’ ll try. That ’ s the best I can do, princess.”
I cling to Damian ’ s hand as we walk down my hallway, soon spotted by the guards who don ’ t dare try to grab me since Damian has his gun out and Anders his ax.
“ Mila!” my father shouts as he comes running down the stairs. His worried face draws my attention to the front door. All this security is useless against Damian and Anders. They are too trained, which means Dash is, too. He could have grabbed me and fled at any time, but he chose to stay.
He will always stay in this world.
“ Mila is coming with us.”
“ Like hell she is.”
“ I promised Mila I wouldn ’ t hurt you, so let me make this crystal clear, Greg.” Damian squeezes my hand. “ Mila is coming with us to attend Marcus ’ s funeral.”
Dad takes one step off the stairs. “ Funeral? I wasn ’ t invited.”
“ It ’ s for family only.”
Anders raises his ax and runs a finger down it, looking directly at the two guards behind my father. They both gulp.
“ You ’ re the Viking.” One guard retreats a step. His gaze locked on the ax, envisioning the carnage it has made.
“ Bolvigr,” the other whispers as his fingers tremble against his gun.
Anders grins, “ Bolvigr. Bringer of suffering. I remember when he called me that right before I killed him. I ’ m not sure I like the nickname.” His smile turns manic.
The guard retreats another step back.I curl my fist. This man is supposed to be loyal to my father; he's paid to protect him, but here he is quivering and retreating.
“ If you know me by that name, then it means you knew him .” Anders makes a guttural sound like a growl.
“ I…I didn ’ t know him.” The guard lowers his gun, eyes flashing with mercy. “ I heard about what you did. Message received!” he shudders as his words drool with fear. “ Everyone heard what you did.”
“ Where did you hear it?” Anders tilts his head. His eyes begin to sparkle as if they were hands wrapped around a rope that was pulling a snare closed.
The guard looks to his friend, then Anders answers, “ In a whore house, I ’ m guessing, which means you knew him personally.”
“ No! I didn ’ t like what he offered.”
“ But you did nothing to stop it.”
“ It wasn ’ t my problem.”
“ It never is.” Anders raises his ax and points it at the guard, who freezes, ‘ I ’ ll be seeing you again.”
“ Enough!” Dad ’ s face reddens in contempt over his guard ’ s fear.
“ I ’ m curious, Greggy,” Anders says.
“ It ’ s Michelson!” My father bellows.
“ Did you know what Adams was doing when you wrote his contracts?”
“ Of course not. I have lines.”
Anders chortles, “ Blurred, right?” he swings his ax in a circle before he lowers it. “ Let me guess, you didn ’ t ask; just took his money and wrote the deal.”
Glancing back at my dad, I find he looks less shiny and more tarnished than ever before. I know he isn ’ t a good man, but although his actions are evil, his intentions still have small seeds of good. I know he works for terrible, horrendous people, but he ’ s still my father. He ’ s still trying to make sure I have a future, albeit a caged one. Deep down, he just wants me safe and protected.
“ If I ask every detail, I ’ d never have clients.” Dad ’ s eyes cast down towards my feet.
Damian tucks me into his side. “ When the funeral is finished, Mila will be going back to Empire to finish her classes. After that,” he turns arctic, “ she and Dash will be married, as stated in the contract you wrote and signed. Don ’ t try to take anything from my cousin, or I will take everything from you. Do you understand me, Greg?”
Damian ’ s gaze sweeps over the house, then to the guards. But never me. He ’ d never threaten me because I ’ m already gone, promised to another. I can ’ t be bartered again, and that ’ s a warning to my father not to try.
Dad ’ s gaze drops to me, the wrinkles around his eyes appearing deeper and more pronounced.
“ It ’ s okay, Dad. I trust them. Please, I need to see Dash.”
Slowly, Dad nods, and Damian ushers me to the door. “ Mila,” Dad shouts, “ I only ever want is best for you.”
Anders snickers.
“ I do,” Dad rebukes. “ Sometimes the safest thing is to be caged with a monster because outside that cage, the beasts of this world run wild.”
◆◆◆
There in the distance, my broken prince stands, each of his uncles blocking him in like crutches again. He doesn't want their support, but he needs it to stand.
I rush forward, wanting to run to him, but Damian grabs me. “ He ’ s not himself.”
I catch Damian ’ s eyes and shake my head. “ This is as close to the real Dash as you will ever see. He ’ s cracked, resentful, lamenting, and rejoicing. He ’ s a torrent of emotions which all have broken the surface.” Damian ’ s hold on me slips.“He ’ s a storm no longer on the horizon. I ’ m not scared of the wind that will batter me.”
He leans closer so I can see all the shades of his eyes. “ Then be leery of the waters that don ’ t reveal their depths until they swallow you.” His gaze lingers on me until he nudges his head, telling me to tread forward with caution as he walks behind me.
As I approach Dash, I see Titan, Dante, Cillian, and another man wrapped in shadows. He stands further back under a massive tree that makes his brown hair look darker, like a layer of earth so deep that none dare tread. His blue eyes regard me with curiosity as I approach him.
“ That ’ s Leo.” Damian states as Anders breaks off from us to join Leo.
Leo ’ s eyes watch me, track me like an eagle looking down his long canary yellow beak, judging if I am worthy to be called his prey.
He dips his chin slightly. Was that meant to be friendly, or did he just mark me?
“ He attended Initiation 101 with us,” Damian adds.
Glancing ahead, I take in the silence and somber mood. There ’ s no priest, no flowers, or other mourners. I see Lucas clench his fist, hands covered in dirt; so are Elijah ’ s. Two shovels lay off to the side.
They dug the grave.
All the air from my lungs is pillaged by the monster bellowing in my belly. I step away from Damian ’ s shadow and towards Dash, but neither of his uncles move to make room for me. I feel adrift in perilous waters that are churning with sharks.
Where do I belong in this world? Married to a man who is too scared to show others how much he loves me, unable to escape because I crave him. Tucked off to the side when all I want is to grab his hand and stand beside him.
I stay back and linger, feeling like a ghost, knowing a part of me is dying because this is how it will always be. Watching Dash publicly from the sidelines.
Dash steps forward, grasping a small porcelain jewelry box in his hands as he holds it over the grave. His eyes pivot to the headstone next to his father ’ s. Kate King, his mother. My knees shake. He never mentions her. “ Now you can be together again.” He whispers, the wind carrying his words like a treasured gift so I can hear.
He opens the box and pours its contents out into his father ’ s grave. Only dirt falls out.
Why did he have dirt inside of the box?
Then his eyes look my way. The look in his glare feels like a sucker punch. My shoulders curl in, stomach clenches to protect my heart. He walks right towards me. I don ’ t know what I expect him to say. Perhaps he ’ ll confess his love and want to live our final days in each other ’ s arms.
Instead, he thrust the fragile box into my chest directly over my beating heart. I grasp it, never breaking his stare. “ Dash,”
He keeps walking past me. His uncles grab their shovels and begin to throw dirt over the grave. It ’ s so raw, horrible, uncaring, and cold like nature. Sometimes, you are granted only one breath when you enter this world, and other times, you feel too many anguished ones.