Chapter 44
Ruin you
KADE
“I’d be fucking grateful if you didn’t intervene next time,” I hiss, my voice low and dangerous. “And don’t eavesdrop either. It’s fucking rude.”
Zara tilts her head, eyeing me with amusement despite the bite in my tone.
My gaze sharpens, and I curl my lips into a faint sneer. “I had it covered, Zara. My brothers—my brother—and I have a complicated relationship. Don’t get in the middle of it. For your own good.”
I’m not surprised by the venom in my tone.
I was raised to fight and my brothers and I have an uneasy relationship.
Zara’s pushing all my fucking buttons and the sharpness of my voice ought to sting.
But it doesn’t. Not anymore. We’ve been through far worse than this, and we’re still standing.
We’ll always make it through, and the blood weave won’t let us fall apart, even if we want to come undone.
And I don’t. She doesn’t either, whether she’s ready to admit openly or not.
“Complicated?” she challenges, her voice biting. “Is that what we’re calling your relationship with your brother now?”
“I don’t need your help with this, Zara,” I mutter, my voice rougher now, my grip tightening on the glass. My eyes narrow, but there’s a subtle softness in my expression I’m trying desperately to hide. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt by forcing yourself between us.”
The witch has no fucking idea how dangerous Darius is, and in her weakened condition, she put herself at serious risk. Her actions were fucking reckless and, even though she knew no better, she could have been seriously hurt.
I take another mouthful of whisky, trying to focus on something other than the way she looks at me.
She watches me like she’s searching for something, like I’m the answer to a question she hasn’t quite figured out.
My gaze pins her in place, a silent challenge between us.
Her heart races; I can feel it. I smirk, aware of the effect I’m having on her.
“I can look after myself,” she says, her voice steady despite the unease in her eyes. “I’m not incapable.”
I tighten my grip on the glass until my knuckles go white, and for a moment, I wonder if I might shatter it.
My eyes darken, and I turn my attention back to the fire.
The flames crackle and spit, but they do little to calm the storm brewing in my chest. My emotions are a fucking mess and I struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on.
They’re spiraling and I’m dangerously close to losing control, and the blood weave is making this harder than it needs to be.
“I never said you were,” I murmur, the tension in my voice as taut as the muscles in my frame.
Zara doesn’t take her eyes off me, her gaze sharp as she watches my every move.
She’s searching for something that will tell her what I’m thinking, or any sign that I might be about to give in.
The girl who holds more control over me than I hold over myself is wondering if I’m about to reveal the chaos I’ve been holding back, and I look away, refusing to show her it.
I’ve faced monsters and men, and fought against things that defy reason, but nothing—nothing—has ever affected me the way Zara does. She’s a force that uproots everything I’ve spent years building. My walls, my control, my fucking sanity are in shambles because of her.
And the worst part?
I don’t want it to stop.
It’s maddening. Infuriating.
She’s as unpredictable and unlikely as any phenomenon I’ve ever known, and yet she’s utterly inescapable.
The blood weave has tied her to every corner of my soul, but my attachment to her is much more than that.
I’d still feel this way without the damn spell, and that scares the hell out of me.
It’s not the magic, it’s her. She’s fire, stubborn and unyielding, and she’s ice, unbreakable and eternal.
I want her and I want her to want me, more than anything I’ve ever desired before.
“So I'm an enchantress,” she says, her voice laced with amusement.
“Yes.”
“Does that make me the more powerful of us?”
My eyes narrow.
Zara's magic is strong. Far stronger than I'm comfortable admitting and yet it's an undeniable truth.
An enchantress isn’t just a wielder of magic.
She is the magic, a force that seeps into the marrow of the world and twists it to her will.
Her power isn’t conjured; it hungers, sinking its teeth into reality itself.
Witches cast spells. An enchantress is the spell, a living curse wrapped in human skin, capable of unraveling minds, bending fates, and leaving ruin in her wake.
Zara’s magic isn’t bound by rules or reason. It doesn’t ask; it takes. And that’s what chills me to my core—because power like hers doesn’t obey. It consumes. And I’m not sure even I can stop it.
She could unmake a person with a whisper, peel back their sanity like rotting pages of a book, and leave them gasping in the dark, begging for mercy she does not possess.
She could hollow out a soul, replace devotion with despair, make them love her as they crumble beneath her touch.
If she wanted to, she could turn the world inside out, drown it in blood and shadows, and watch it burn with nothing but a smile.
“You realize that what you do affects me?” I say, my voice low, gravelly.
I can’t bring myself to look at her. Not now. Not when I might not be worthy of her.
I’m watching the fire, but every word feels like a weight in the air between us.
“I cannot escape you, little witch. I don’t want to, as it happens, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about the idea of you throwing yourself in harm’s way at every goddamn opportunity.”
Her breathing falters, and for a second, I think she’s going to laugh at me. She’s fucking impossible, but I’m too damn stubborn to let her go, even if she’s the one thing that could destroy me.
“You care,” she teases, light with challenge.
“Of course I fucking care.” My eyes flick back to hers, burning with fire.
“Darius almost lost his shit because of you, and that could have jeopardized everything, Zara. I was always going to give you what you wanted, always going to keep my fucking promise. But I needed to get Darius to see some fucking sense, and you came so fucking close to blowing it. Too fucking close, kitten.”
She crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair like she’s testing me. Her lips curve into a smug little smile, and it drives me fucking crazy.
“It didn’t look that way to me.”
“That’s because you don’t know Darius,” I mutter, trying to soften. “He’s clever and calculating, and it’s easier if he thinks he’s getting one over you.” I tilt my head, searching her eyes, trying to find some way to get through to her. “Just trust me next time, Zara, and don’t interfere.”
Her eyes narrow and it’s her turn to stare into the fire, searching for answers in the flames when none exist. She’s impossible when she’s like this.
When she challenges me, when she refuses to obey me.
It’s enough to make me want to break something, and I’m crazy enough to destroy the goddamn world for her.
“Don’t exclude me, Kade,” she snarls.
“Don’t pretend I was,” I retort, biting back a frustrated growl. “I know what I’m doing, and I know how to play this game. I’ve been doing it a fucking long time, and I’ve made very few mistakes. Let me teach you, and then you can have anything you want.”
I exhale, and my muscles tighten again. Zara’s eyes widen as their outlines catch her attention.
The tension in my frame won’t ease and my shirt pulls as my chest rises and falls underneath it.
I’m holding myself back, keeping the semblance of control I have left, and I’m doing it for the girl who’s pushing against me as if her life depends on it.
“You don’t get it, kitten. I need you to trust me, more than I’ve needed anything.
Please, Zara. Trust me, or tell me what it is I have to do to get you to.
I don’t know what more I can do, not when I’ve already killed one of my brothers for you and I’ll kill the other one if he so much as looks at you wrong.
Gods, I even went back and brought Galen’s heart back in case you wanted it as some sort of fucking trophy. ”
I swallow, the words catching in my throat. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t flinch.
“Where is it?” she asks, her voice soft, almost gentle.
“In the fucking box over there.” I gesture to the ornate box that looks too delicate to hold something as grotesque as my brother’s heart. “Did you want it?”
“Fuck no,” she replies, her face twisting with disgust. “Keep that fucking awful thing away from me.”
I nod again, relief flooding into me because she doesn’t want it.
I want her to forget everything that happened to her.
I don’t want anything reminding her of the torture she endured or the nightmare she survived because of me.
Because of us. That heart in the box, blackened with the same cruelty that ran through my brother’s veins, is a symbol of everything I’ve been trying to shield her from.
It’s everything I can’t shield her from, and I don’t want her to see my weakness.
Zara doesn’t need more reminders of the bloodshed, of the weight of the choices I made.
I did it to protect her, to keep her safe, but that doesn’t make it any less monstrous.
The memory of what I had to do to get that heart—to end his life—still clings to me like smoke.
I don’t regret killing Galen, but I regret what he did to her and that I didn’t see him for the threat he was sooner.
I don’t want to see the haunted look in her eyes as the memories take hold, and I don’t want her to struggle. I want only good things for her. Only nice things. I’ve never wanted this and now it’s here I’m fumbling in the dark, grasping at anything that might make this easier for her.