Chapter 66
He’s here.
The demon king.
I feel him before I see him—the dark evil that slithers around me like a fucking cobra.
Why did I never see it while I was growing up with this man?
Under the crimson sky, he looks inhuman—not just cruel or cold, but ancient, elemental, like something carved out of fire and shadow. His eyes gleam red in the dying light, and his smile is all teeth.
I used to think his anger was human. That his silence was disappointment. That his punishments were discipline.
But now I see the truth.
He was never trying to raise me.
He was waiting.
Waiting for me to break.
I hate that part of me still wants her stepfather’s approval, even as I stand here quivering in his shadow.
My throat tightens, but I keep my spine straight. I won’t flinch. Not this time.
Never again.
He looks at me like I’m something he stepped in.
There it is—the disgust, the contempt he’s never bothered to hide.
I used to wonder what I did wrong. Why he looked at me like I was a stain he couldn’t scrub out.
I don’t wonder anymore. I know.
I remind him of everything he couldn’t control.
He controls my mother. She does anything he says, lets him think for her.
He took everything from her—her strength, her intelligence, even her children.
She gave them all willingly.
He moves slightly, just enough to remind me that he still thinks he has power over me. That he’s still the shadow I had to grow up under.
But I don’t stop. I don’t shrink.
Because if I do, he wins. Again.
And I’ve given him enough of my life already.
“She won’t forgive you,” he says.
Nothing I haven’t heard before.
“Some things are more important than the loss of a mother’s love,” I say. “Ridding the world of your evil is at the top of the list.”
His laugh is a hollow echo in the twilight. “So certain, so righteous.” His words slither through the air, cold and biting. “Yet you stand here shaking like a leaf.”
I grit my teeth, digging my fingernails into my palm. I want to lash out, to wipe that smug smirk from his face. But I won't give him the satisfaction.
I remember how my mother used to tell me to ignore him. That she didn’t want to hear any more of my complaints.
I learned to keep things from her. The evil things he said to me. I learned the ways to keep him calm, to keep my head high despite the storm thundering around me.
I take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.
His words can’t hurt me. Not anymore.
So I keep my cool.
“Maybe I'm shaking,” I say, "but not out of fear.”
His smirk falters—a small victory.
“Maybe it's anger,” I continue. “Anger at what you've stolen from us. What you've turned my mother into—a shell of the woman she once was.”
He scoffs. “I saved your mother. You and I both know that. It was your father who turned her into a shell of what she once was.”
I shake my head. “My father was horrid to her. To all of us. I know that. But she fought him. She left him. You? You stole all that fight from her. You stole her love. Her light.”
His gaze tightens, grows sharp as a knife, yet I don’t flinch. My words are my weapon against him, and they’re sharper than any sword he could draw.
“Maybe it's resolve,” I go on. “Resolve to end your reign of terror. To reclaim our lives from your clutches.”
The sky darkens to an inky black, a perfect backdrop to his monstrous form. The first stars begin to prick through the ether as tension coils between us.
“And maybe,” I add, my voice barely above a whisper, “it’s anticipation.”
His eyebrows furrow.
“Anticipation for the moment when you no longer hold power over me, over my mother. When we can be free.” I give him a taunting smile. “Your own people want me to end you. They’re ready to mutiny.”
“You don’t have that kind of power.” He raises his hand. “Get on your knees, bitch.”
Magic coils around me like a vise—tightening, pressing, whispering dark promises into my ear. My knees buckle for a breath, just one, but I don’t fall.
His eyes glow with the smug certainty that I’ll break. That I’ll kneel like I did that first time.
But I didn’t the last time.
His power has increased since then, though.
“You can’t resist me,” he growls. “Every part of you answers to me.”
My breath comes shallow, my body screaming for release, for relief, for surrender. But I grit my teeth and stay upright.
“You raised me on fear,” I say, voice ragged. “But fear doesn’t own me anymore.”
His magic pulses harder now—hot and violent. It’s trying to break into my mind, crack open my soul. My vision blurs. My heart hammers.
But I won’t kneel.
Not to him.
Not ever again.
I think of every time he made me feel small. Every time I bit my tongue to survive. Every time I cried behind closed doors and hated myself for it.
And I push back.
I use the power of my blood.
I use me.
The girl who survived him.
The woman who outgrew his menacing insults.
Power explodes inside me—not dark, but raw and bright and burning clean. His magic hits a wall, and for the first time, his eyes widen.
He wasn’t expecting this.
“You taught me pain,” I say, taking a step forward. “Now let me teach you humility.”
His magic shatters against mine.
And he takes a step back.
Not much. But enough.
I smile, even as sweat drips down my spine and my muscles tremble from the strain. “Still think I belong on my knees?”
He doesn’t answer.
Because he knows the truth.
I’m not his stepdaughter anymore.
I’m his damnation.