Chapter 47 BETH
BETH
I wanted to die. I needed to die. What was there to live for?
Darkness.
That was all I knew. A deep, consuming void that swallowed me whole, cradling me in a silence so absolute I could almost convince myself that none of it happened.
That Kenzo and his mom weren’t dead. And I definitely didn’t shatter at the sight of Kenzo’s lifeless body; the grief all-consuming my body itself gave up.
But then, my eyes fluttered open, the reality like a sledgehammer to the chest. And this time, there was no darkness to run to.
No, no, no.
Panic shot through my veins like ice as I bolted upright, throwing the covers off my body. My bare feet hit the cold floor as I stumbled to the window, yanking the curtains aside with trembling hands.
And the sight below me made my stomach churn.
Soldiers patrolled the open ground, rifles of different shapes and sizes slung over their broad shoulders, their movement precise, sharp, and disciplined, like they would catch the wind in their fists with an easy grace.
He took me back…to the prison disguised as a palace.
A strangled sound escaped my lips and I stumbled away from the window, Kenzo’s paling body, covered in blood, flashing before my eyes.
My knees buckled, and a wretched sob tore from my throat as I sank to the cold floor, my arms swung over myself, wrapping it tightly as if to hold the grief in before it shattered me.
I needed to go back. I needed to hold Kenzo one more time, press my forehead to his, and whisper ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ until he heard me and opened his eyes. Until he recognized the grief and loneliness in my voice and woke up.
But I was here. Miles away from him. I couldn’t hold him if I was here, locked away in this wicked castle. I couldn’t even see him take his last breath.
As the tears ran down my cheeks, I tried to walk through my memories. I wondered what date it was. How long had I been asleep? Was it too late? Had they already sealed his body away, locked him in a lonely, cold, and dark grave?
Kenzo hated the dark. He was the only eighteen year old boy I knew that couldn’t sleep with the lights turned off.
Did they leave him alone? He often got cold easily. So did they wrap him well?
My sobs echoed in the room, turning into struggling gasps as an invisible hand tightened around my neck, grief caging me, weaving into my veins and twisting into something hot and dark.
I shot to my feet, my vision blurred with tears and fury as I ran for the door, yanking at the handle. But it was locked. The door was locked. Like a prisoner, he actually locked me up.
“No!” I screamed, pounding my fist against the polished wood with every little energy I had left in me. “Open the door! Let me out!”
I didn’t care that my fingers were beginning to bruise. I didn’t care for my knuckles that were splitting open as my blood smeared the door. I just kept on knocking, wailing, thrashing…again and again.
I only stopped when exhaustion dug its claws into my bones, my sobs and wails quieted into shaky and ragged gasps. And the only memory that kept replaying in my head was Kenzo’s body.
Then, in the quiet of the moment, I heard footsteps just beyond the door, then murmurs, the sound of boots scraping against the floor.
I arched my back off the door immediately, bolting to my feet. I took a step away when the knob twisted with a silent click. And a few seconds later, as if the person was taking their time, the door finally made a low whine as it was pushed open.
Zaghan stepped in.
The sheer sight of him sent violent tremors through my body, the rage in my veins so hot it could have melted steel.
He stood adorned with his expensive pants and dress shirt, covered in his signature cologne that often made me dizzy and sway. But this time, all I saw was blood, Kenzo’s blood.
The man before me wasn’t the one who often kissed me with quiet possession, the one who liked to murmur low threats against my lips just to make me shiver.
This one here was the monster who took everything away from me in one night. Everything. All of it.
Rage reignited in my chest, so raw and so consuming it stripped away the last of my restraint. And I charged at him, fist flying, hands clawing at his chest and face, nails digging into skin, scream raw and broken.
I wanted death, and I wanted it now. But before that, I would kill him first.
“I’ll kill you!” My screams were mixed with broken sobs as tears ran down my cheeks. “I-I’ll fucking kill you. I swear to god, I’ll kill you!”
And as if finally bored with my tantrums, he lazily lifted his hand, catching my wrist with ease and yanking me off him as if I was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.
And that….that made me snap.
I turned away from him and charged to the room, weaving my way frantically to my section of the walk-in closet. I latched onto the handle of one of the drawers, pulling it open. I flung out underwear until silver catches the light.
My hand trembled as I lifted the dagger into my hand, standing up without hesitation.
When I dashed back out, he was still standing in the same spot, hands tucked in his pocket, lazy eyes on me, waiting, daring.
He didn’t flinch when his gaze caught the dagger. If anything, a flicker of amusement passed his expression. That only fuelled my rage.
When I charged at him, he didn’t dodge the attack, didn’t even move a muscle when I pressed the silver to his throat. Not even a little gasp of breath when it opened the skin over his Adam’s apple and a thin line of red surfaced.
His lips curled slowly, then a quiet chuckle devoid of mirth, singing of something deeply rooted in vice, broke out.
The mockery in his eyes was a blade slicing through me like an open wound. As if he knew I couldn’t do it. As if he knew I was weak and pathetic. A fucking fool who couldn’t protect the one thing that kept her company even when she was broken and undesirable.
Blood for blood. An eye for an eye. Death for death. That was the rule, right? The law. Yet I just stood there, my hand trembling, leaving him to keep breathing when a little pressure could have taken away his life just the way he took Kenzo’s away.
Slowly, dark gaze trapping me in place, his hand lifted, covering mine that still held the dagger to his throat, pressing hard against it.
Then in a voice low and cold, he said. “The next time you put a blade to my throat, dig deeper, make bleed or I swear, I’ll fuck all your holes with it, Elizabeth. ”
I gasped softly, the grave look in his eyes sending a chill down my spine. My grip on the dagger loosened as I staggered backwards, the blade clattering to the floor with a resounding thud.
I really was nothing against him. His life was literally just in my hand. A little pressure would have ended him. But I stood there and made a fool out of myself.
“Why?” I whispered, the silent tears tracking down my cheeks.“Why did you kill him?”
Something flickered in his gaze, and his jaw clenched as a shadow passed over his face.
He said nothing. And his silence unnerved me, stirred bitterness in my chest.
How dare he not have an explanation for why he took away the only person in my life, the only steady ground that had I held onto for years?
“Why did you kill him?” My voice cracked as I stumbled forward, my bloodied fingers threading through a fistful of his shirt.
“He was off-limits!” I sobbed, my free hand throwing punches at his hard chest, my shoulders vibrating with every ragged breath.
“He was all I had. Why did you do this to me? Why did you have to cause me so much pain just to prove a point? Why? Answer me! Why?!”
Still, he said nothing, not even a word.
His silence became an abyss, swallowing my sorrows, my fury, my pain.
“Why did you have to go ahead and do this to me, answer me, please?” My grip loosened on his shirt as I crumbled to the floor.
“Why have you ripped everything away from me in one night? Why didn’t you just leave this one for me?
I would have come back to you. I was going to come back to you.
I would have done anything you asked of me.
You didn’t have to do it. You didn’t have to take Kenzo away from me. ”
My reddened and teary gaze lifted to him, catching a fleeting tic in his jaw, and the flexing of his fingers beside him.
And then without a word, he turned on his heels, heading for the door.
Eyes blurry, heart heavy, I watched him open the door and walked out, locking me in…again. Because I was not a wife grieving. I was not the woman he regretted hurting.
I was his prisoner.
As his feet echoed down the hall, the grief clawed out of my chest, engulfing me whole.
I wanted to die. I needed to die.
What was there to live for?