My Dark Divine
Prologue
A n invisible force presses down, smothering the air with its weight. A faint, flickering light from a broken lamp falls over him, his sweat-and-blood-soaked hair clinging to his face like a second skin. He coughs, the rough sound merging with his sobs, though I haven’t even begun. I knocked him out and dragged him here, to the right place, patiently waiting for him to wake up.
“Please,” he breathes, his head bowed and shaking, as if his mind refuses to believe this is real. That he was actually taken from his home and brought to my basement. It’s almost amusing how they all react the same way every single time. “I don’t understand?—”
I raise my hand to silence him, then let it fall back down. My fingers toy with the scissors, spinning them slowly as I wonder if they’re the tool I want to use today. “You do understand, Joshua,” I say, my voice calm and emotionless. This routine has become tiresome, a dull cycle that begins to wear on my patience. “You thought you could steal and resell our product, and we wouldn’t notice?”
I keep my eyes on the scissors, but I can feel the shock spreading across his face. His mouth opens, yet no words escape. At least he’s smart enough to abandon his pathetic attempt to plead innocence.
Slowly, I stand, the chair creaking beneath me, making him flinch. Our eyes meet, and I notice the tears spilling down his cheeks, leaving a glistening trail in their wake. The dim light makes them shimmer, and with the drugs coursing through my veins, it almost looks like he’s crying glitter.
“What did they promise you?” I ask, tilting my head and relishing the crackle that runs up my neck. I fucking hate the talking part. I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy.
But I can’t indulge so fast today—not when I’m not alone.
“A better life,” he squeaks, his voice cracking on the final word, realizing too late that refusing would have been the smarter choice. I roll my eyes, the same tired pattern playing out yet again. Everyone these days wants a better life, always chasing the easiest path to get it.
Idiots like this panting, sweating mess in front of me are always eager to leap at the first opportunity, blind to the risks. And here I am, for the hundredth fucking time, cleaning up the mess.
He keeps sobbing, the sound bouncing off the cement walls and hammering against my skull. But when I take a step closer, he freezes, finally silencing himself and looking up at me. My voice remains calm as I ask, “Do you have any idea how we found out?”
His thin lips quiver, and he manages a quiet no. A wave of amusement swells in my gut, like tendrils curling up into my ribcage, igniting something in me. Though this moment belongs to her , I can’t help but savor the thrill of being the one to break the news.
My eyes flick to the shadowed corner behind him, and I give a nod, signaling for her to step forward. The idiot turns his head, his eyes widening in shock as he watches the scene unfold.
She steps out from the darkness, her black suit blending almost seamlessly into the shadows. Her arms are crossed, the tattooed one resting on top, her sharp nails pointing downward. Two golden snake-shaped hairpins hold her front locks in place, glinting in the light against her perfectly styled sable-dark hair.
Her face remains impassive—it always fucking does. She’s the complete opposite of me: I act on impulse, reach a boiling point within seconds, and eliminate anyone in my path.
The only thing we share, this cunning snake and I, is that we wear masks. To the outside world, our families are perfect, and we’re pillars of the community—good people who’d do anything for others.
But in moments like this, we’re free. Free to strip off those masks, if only for the eyes of the people who won’t live long enough to tell.
She tilts her head, her lips pressed into a smirk as she gazes down at Joshua. When he grasps the reality, his jaw drops, and her smirk turns into a faint smile.
“But you…” he stammers, words eluding him as he swallows hard, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. “I thought you were?—”
Helping them. That’s what she makes everyone believe. The way she slips into people’s minds is so smooth, they don’t even notice. She casts a spell on them with her dazzling smile, a laugh that flows like a soothing song, and words filled with poisonous magic.
Her methods work flawlessly on people like him—the ones who trust too easily, who never look beyond the surface. They only notice the graceful, respectful woman in their midst, unaware of what she really is—a master manipulator who molds herself to fit her surroundings.
“But why ?” he croaks weakly, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking.
A flicker of amusement plays across her face, causing her smile to widen. “Because I can,” she replies, stepping closer as she continues, “I love watching the light fade from the eyes just before the end. There’s something utterly mesmerizing about that, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. I don’t buy into the sick thrill she gets from this. For me, it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for the light in their eyes or the fear in their faces, or other shit like that. I don’t care about their pleas. I’m here for the action, not her manipulative fucking theatrics.
“Finish him,” she commands, her tone hardening the second she speaks to me. Without even glancing my way, she turns and melts back into the shadows, disappearing into the night.
The muscle under my eye twitches in irritation at her voice, the way she assumes she’s in charge. It’s my father who assigns the jobs, and I’m the one who decides whether she even shows up or stays in her house sipping those margaritas she loves so fucking much. And now, she swooped in like a vampire, drained him of his emotions, and tossed orders at me as if I were her dog.
This is the last time I’m letting her get off on this.
Tuning out the pleas and cries spilling from Joshua, I head to the stall where my instruments lay, my fingers skimming over the cold metal as I decide what to use. After this, scissors are no longer an option. I need something more effective to release my pent-up anger.
I place them aside, my gaze fixed on the needle-nose pliers, their pointed tips catching my interest. A wave of impatience surges within, filling my body with a rising warmth.
Time to do my part.