Chapter 31
Dash
“ Your fucking eyes just lit up like a Christmas tree.” Dante hisses as he kicks my freshly healed leg. The removable cast I had put on a few weeks ago made simple tasks much more manageable. The cast caused some atrophy, but Cillian ’ s strength training is already helping to fix it along with the physical therapy.
“ She ’ s my pretend girlfriend.” I retort. That fucker Jared was smiling at Mila as they grabbed trays and started to get lunch. Any minute she ’ ll be mine and free from his company. I can ’ t stand having to tolerate that conniving jerk.
“ Pretend?” Cillian questions with an all knowing smirk.
“ Pretend with benefits.” I correct him. That ’ s all Mila and I can be, moments of smoke that are swallowed by our surroundings. We can never be more, never solid. Solid things can crumble.
I won ’ t crumble. I did the day I buried my mom. I ’ ll never resemble that weak boy again,
I told Mila I ’ d never love her. I told her I can ’ t be fixed, yet she clings to me like a runway model is bound to bulimia. It ’ s a sickness, yet somehow that problem benefits them. A double-edge sword.
So I gave in.
I kissed and touched Mila ’ s body, craved her taste, relished when she called my name as if I were a saint and not a devil to be damned to hell.
Those nightly showers were the only comfort I felt, the only escape I ’ d ever witness. As soon as the water shut off, I forced myself to stop, to not give in further.
It would be so easy, especially since she refused to leave me. Having Mila in my bed was now a nightly feature. She clung to me like I was a hero and…I loved it.
Only one person ever saw a glimmer of goodness in me. My mom.
Now Mila did.
It was a flicker of hope, a symbolic middle finger that I didn ’ t have to be the monster my dad forced me to be.
At least not yet.
When I was alone with Mila in my room, I was the good guy—the guy who kissed her back with passion, the guy who spoke his feelings to her, the guy she desired but eventually could never have.
Eventually, we would crumble.
I ’ d be fine. I had been smothered before. I knew how to consolidate emotions in my mind.
Mila didn ’ t before I came along. Now I gave her a tool. Art, a way to purge her emotions, buried them in the paints, then hang her trophies on her walls. Mila was flourishing in it. Her confident grasp of the paints signaled the completion of my job.
I adjust my leg, now able to move it with ease. I ’ m getting better. I should feel joyous, but the commencement of healing simply marks the start of the countdown. Any week now, I ’ ll be ordered to participate in The Cleansing. I have no idea who I ’ ll have to fight; it ’ s a thought that would keep me up at night if it weren ’ t for Mila clinging to me, dragging down my thoughts so I can sleep soundly.
***
I can sense eyes on me as soon as I round the corner. Connor Dickerson leans against the railing, his eyes locked on the ballet studio. The room where I train is just across the hall. Dante and Cillian are already inside, but I can ’ t run to them. I have to handle this by myself.
I ’ ll give it to Connor; he ’ s the first to approach me alone. The united front of Dante, Cillian, and I have kept the vultures and lurking predators at bay.
“ King,” Connor snorts my name, his eyes still glued to the dance studio.
It ’ s a threat, not just towards me, but to Mila. I curl my fist, missing my crutch. I don ’ t need it since I have the portable cast, but I wish I kept it. It was a giant stress ball I could squeeze whenever I wanted. The world would be much happier if I were more relaxed.
I have two options: ignore him or take the bait. If I choose the first, he ’ ll only go after Mila directly.
I slow my pace. “ Connor,” I greet him, glancing over my shoulder to see Dante and Cillian watching. They have my back if need be.
Connor turns to me with a smug look on his fucking face.
A bleak, gray void starts to seep out of my pumping heart. There it is, the monster inside waking, hungry and ready to fight. It ’ s always been a part of me; I feel the predator stretching his claws, ready to consume me.
The only instance where I don ’ t feel this is when I ’ m around Mila.
Connor shakes his head. “ She ’ s fucking beautiful, isn ’ t she?” He grins slowly, “ I ’ ll admit, her kind of beauty never interested me before. She ’ s too…” he glances at the studio right as Mila pushes up on her pointe shoes as if she were posing for us. “ Good. Perfect.” Connor retorts.
Stay calm. He wants a reaction.
“ I hate perfect.” Eyes lock onto me. “ I like broken. Fucked up. It ’ s so much more fun in bed.” He snickers.
My smile causes Connor ’ s eyes to narrow. Instead of losing my composure like he anticipated, I ’ m still deep in thought about his words. Mila is everything Connor wants, so delicate and broken.
She ’ s mine.
“ Have a good day, Connor,” I walk past him; right as our shoulders almost brush, I glance into his soon-to-be-dead eyes, “ You won ’ t be having many more. Enjoy it.”
I grab the door to our studio.
“ Maybe I ’ ll enjoy her.” He shouts in desperation.
“ You do that and see what happens.” I shrug and see my words wipe the smugness off his face. “ Death is beautiful when it ’ s quick.” I let out a frosty laugh. “ But you and I don ’ t like pretty things. Isn ’ t that right, Connor?” I arch a brow. He goes pale. “ Slowness is much more our style,” I smirk as I enter the training room. The door shuts behind me.
My smile drops, and I see red. Dante and Cillian sense it. “ I ’ ll kill him.”
“ You won ’ t have to,” Dante declares. He tosses me the tape so I can wrap my knuckles. “ He was called for The Cleansing. He won ’ t make it. Rumor has it he ’ s due to fight Antonio Ferraro.” Dante smirks. “ The Ferraros are indebted to my family, a fact Connor doesn ’ t know. I ’ ll tell Ferraro to make it slow.”
I glide my thumb over the texture of the tape. “ I want to be the one to do it.”
“ One day, you will be,” Dante replies coldly. He ’ s right. The threats will never cease.
“ I think we need to start training without the brace on,” Cillian suggests. “ You need to start working your muscles and reflexes again. We will take it slow until you get the doctor ’ s approval, but we can ’ t keep waiting.”
Quickly, I toss the tape to him. “ You ’ re right. No more padding, bare knuckles, no cast. Just me.” And the monster inside.
***
I lean against the wall outside the girls ’ locker room. There is a tightness in my chest.
Why did Mila go inside? She usually leaves the studio and goes to the cafeteria. The last time she was inside the locker room, I found her with a needle in her finger.
Did she relapse?
Go inside.
No wait.
I run my sore fingers through my dirty hair. Like sun rays breaking through a thundercloud in my mind, Mila appears with dripping hair. Her fresh floral scent fills my nostrils, causing them to flare.
Rage fills me.
“ You showered.”
“ Don ’ t worry,” she comes to my side with an angelic smirk, “ I ’ ll shower again with you. I just got so sweaty in class that I needed to shower before dinner.”
Her eyes lower to my hands as if sensing where I need her touch. “ Dash,” she gasps at my bloody, swollen knuckles. I didn ’ t shower. It ’ s useless unless I shower with her. That ’ s the only time I feel clean.
Fury fills me. She ’ s taken over my mind. Twisted my games. “ I ’ m walking you to the cafeteria. You ’ ll eat with Dante and Cillian.”
Eyes flash with worry. “ Where will you be?”
“ Alone. I don ’ t need you tonight.” I begin to walk.
“ I ’ m coming, regardless.”
Happiness blooms in my chest. It ’ s foreign and wrong. Light shouldn ’ t shine in the dark.
“ Did something happen?” She hurries to match my pace as she drags her bag of pointe shoes with her. I had no idea how many shoes a dancer goes through each week. After we shower and do homework, Mila is constantly sewing her shoes. Watching her break into a new pair of ballet shoes made me consider if my little fox liked torture.
I ’ d never witness someone destroy a shoe only to put it back together again. She cracks the sole in half, rips it out, cuts half of it out, pours Jet glue into it, beats it down, and then tries to make it whole again. And all the sewing of those ribbons! I feel obligated to watch every time she punctures the fabric with the needle, making sure she doesn ’ t poke herself with it.
It's rather symbolic since that ’ s what I was doing to her: breaking and bending until she was molded perfectly for me.
“ Stop being an ignorant fool, Mila.” I hiss with cold hate as I recall Connor ’ s threat. Quickly, I turn and grab her shoulders. “ You think when you run, you can walk freely?”
I bend down and kiss her ear. Her delicate body trembles with a need that makes my body ache. “ You think you can live a life without the feeling of something nipping at your heels?” I suck her neck, tasting her flesh, marking it so every other fucker here knows she ’ s mine. Game or no game.
She pushes her hips into her mine. A smirk blooms on her pretty face when she feels what she has done to me.
I step back and look down at her. “ You will always have to look over your shoulder.”
Her smile falters like the slow drip of a facet. Drip, drip, drip. That echoing sound in one's mind will cause a slow descent into insanity to set in. That ’ s what Mila ’ s life on the run will be like: a slow collapse into madness.
“ Tell me what ’ s happened. What ’ s changed? Did—”
Paleness devours the blush on her cheeks; fear is evil like that, all-consuming, hungry to swallow down every drop of joy.
“ Did you get an order to fight in The Cleansing?”
I grin coldly, “ Worried for me, little fox?”
“ Yes,” she grabs my hand.
“ I ’ m flattered,” I grunt coldly, desperately wanting to shake off the warmth spreading up my arm.
“ Dash, tell me.” Mila tugs my hand; I feel the pull in the chambers of my heart.
I snatch my hand away, removing her power over me. “ I hate you.” I snap.
She jerks but recovers quickly. “ You hate that I ’ m making you feel.” Her eyes look me up and down. “ Now you know how I felt when you first kissed me. I felt everything. Every cold, fragmented scar, every burning memory. But unlike you,” she steps toe-to-toe with me, tilting her chin up, “ I ’ m not scared.”
“ Liar.” Gently, I curl my fingers around her neck. Thump, thump. Her pulse beats under the tips of my fingers. I love the feeling of her life in the palm of my hand. “ If you didn ’ t fear, you would stay here in this life and not try to run from it.”
Silence.
“ Did the truth hurt you?” I bend down and kiss her lips. No kiss back.
Slowly, she steps back.
My fingertips scream to not let go, but I do.
She puts on a cold, emotionless mask, the same one I first saw her wearing when I first laid eyes on her. “ I ’ ll see you after dinner,” she announces.
“ I ’ m locking the door.”
She chuckles lightly. “ I ’ ll kick it down.”
I raise a brow. “ I ’ d love to see you try.” I love her fire.
Her chin tilts up. “ I ’ m stronger than you think, Dash King.” She spits my last name.
“ I ’ ve never underestimated your strength.” My lips curl up; she is no longer that sad little girl trying to make others believe she is happy. “ You did, but it seems you have finally realized how strong you are.” I tilt my head, looking at how the rays of the setting sun are wrapping around her. I ’ m jealous of how close they cling to her.
“ Tell me, do you still want to escape our world, Mila?” I ask.
Silence. A deep inhale, “ I was never meant to be a part of this world, Dash. I ’ m not escaping it. I ’ m just going to find a place where I belong.”
She turns, “ I ’ ll see you tonight.” She gloats as she walks into the cafeteria.
Oh Mila, you have no idea your father sold you to me. The problem is, I don ’ t want to let you go.
Good thing I owe you a favor.
I need to let you go. You need to get as far away from me as possible before I completely obliterate you.