Chapter 7 #2
And there she was, looking so convinced of her moral superiority while passing judgment on my existence. The unbearable ache inside me morphed into something vicious and familiar. She wanted to draw blood. She wanted to map out my desolate future and leave me with nothing.
If she insisted on tearing me apart, I would gladly return the favor and ensure we both caught fire.
“And what will you have, Annie?” I asked softly. “Since we’re laying out futures.”
She stiffened, clearly not expecting the question.
I stepped closer, eliminating the space between us until my chest nearly touched hers. Her breath hitched, a tiny, involuntary response that sent satisfaction coursing through me. I reached down and stroked her jaw with my thumb.
“You’ll have your rules and your boundaries.
Your little apartment where you hide from the world.
Your job following Havoc around like a shadow.
” I let my thumb drift down to the pulse point at her throat, feeling it race beneath my touch.
“You’ll have your moral high ground and your righteous anger.
And you’ll go home alone every night, telling yourself it’s what you want. ”
Annie tried to turn her face away, but I caught her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“You’ll watch other people fall in love, get married, have children. You’ll smile and congratulate them while something inside you withers. You’ll tell yourself it’s safer this way. No risk. No pain.”
I leaned in closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear. Her scent filled my senses, triggering memories I’d spent months obsessing over.
“But sometimes, late at night, you’ll remember how it felt to be truly wanted.
You’ll remember exactly how my mouth felt on you.
” I watched her swallow hard, her throat working beneath my palm.
“You’ll slide your fingers between you legs and you’ll touch yourself, hating that it’s my face you see when you come. ”
She flinched. The hurt that flashed across her face made something inside me twist painfully even as hatred replaced the hurt.
“You’ll grow old following other people’s rules, keeping other people’s secrets. The perfect Keeper. The perfect daughter for Havoc.” I let contempt seep into my voice, even as my hand slid down to rest at the curve of her waist. “Never asking for what you really want. Never taking it.”
My fingers tightened slightly, possessive, remembering exactly how her body fit against mine.
“And someday, when you’re alone with nothing but your principles to keep you warm, you’ll wonder if it was worth it. If safety was worth sacrificing everything else.”
The steel in her posture crumbled.
“The saddest part? You know I’m right.”
Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, filled with tears. One spilled over, rolling down her cheek. A small sound escaped her, something between a gasp and a sob.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was barely audible, broken in a way I’d never heard before. For the first time since I’d known her, Annie wasn’t fighting back.
“Why?” More tears fell. “Why do you need to keep hurting me? You already broke me. What’s the point of continuing? What do you get out of it?”
I stared at her, at the carefully applied makeup streaking down her cheeks, the trembling in her shoulders. At the absolute devastation in her eyes.
Fuck.
This wasn’t what I wanted. I hadn’t brought her here to reduce her to this. I’d been so caught up in my own anger, at Valor, at myself, that I’d lashed out, cutting exactly where I knew it would hurt most.
“Annie,” I started, but she cut me off.
“No. Don’t.” She wiped roughly at her tears, smearing mascara across her cheek. “You’ve made your point. I’m pathetic. I’m alone. I’m going to die alone because I’m too damaged to let anyone get close.”
She shoved my hand away from her waist, but I didn’t step back.
She gave a broken laugh. “I used to think you were different when you were with me. That I got to see the real you behind the mask. But there is no real you, is there? Just layers of masks. And underneath it all, just emptiness.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Just a little boy who never learned how to love because nobody ever loved him.”
I staggered back, turning away from her, unable to let her see what her words had done.
Memories crashed over me, pulling me under so quickly I couldn’t put up my defenses.
My mother’s distant gaze. My father’s clinical assessment of my “condition.” The doctors with their needles and electrodes.
My siblings’ mockery. The isolation room at school where they put me when I became “overwhelmed” or “difficult.”
“Cipher?”
No one touching me except to restrain or examine. No one speaking to me except to correct or diagnose.
“Cipher.” Annie’s voice penetrated the roaring in my ears, softer now.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. How the fuck had I given someone, anyone, that weapon to use against me?
And she wielded it so well.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I heard her footsteps approaching behind me, felt her hand hesitantly touch my shoulder. The gentleness of it nearly broke me.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“You did.” I finally found my voice. “And you’re right.”
I turned to face her, wishing for once that my mask covered my mouth too, that she couldn’t see any part of me.
“I don’t know how to love without destroying,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to want without taking. I never wanted to hurt you.” The words felt inadequate even as I spoke them.
I watched her face soften. Even now, after everything I’d done, after the vicious words I’d just hurled at her like weapons, she was trying to comfort me. To soothe the hurt she’d caused.
It made me fucking sick.
Not with her. With myself. Because Annie was good. Fundamentally, unshakably good. Even when she was hurting, even when she had every right to tear me apart, she couldn’t sustain that cruelty. It wasn’t in her nature.
I didn’t deserve that goodness. I never had.
“I wanted—” I trailed off, not knowing really what the fuck I wanted. To possess her? To keep her? To make her mine in ways that would probably destroy everything that made her Annie?
I’d spent my entire life taking what I wanted. Manipulating and acquiring. People were assets or obstacles, useful or irrelevant. Even Annie had started that way. A puzzle to solve, a body to enjoy.
Until she wasn’t. Until she became essential in ways I couldn’t quantify or control.
“What do you want, Annie?”
Annie reached up toward my mask. I could have stopped her. Should have stopped her.
But I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just watched as she found the edge of my mask and slowly peeled it away. Her fingertips lingered on my cheekbone and it took every ounce of my control to keep from turning my head and pressing my mouth into her palm.
I felt exposed as my eyes met hers directly for the first time in months, with nothing between us.
She studied every line and plane of my face like she was memorizing it all over again.
“I want the truth,” she said finally. “Not what you think I want to hear. Not what serves your plans. Just the fucking truth, for once.”
Her fingers clutched my mask, holding it like a talisman.
“Did you ever actually love me? Or was that just another calculation?”
The answer should have been simple, but my tongue felt leaden in my mouth. Honesty was a language I barely spoke.
“I don’t know how to love the way normal people do,” I admitted.
“I want to possess you. To make sure no one else can have you. I think about you constantly. I’ve watched you for three months just to make sure you’re safe.
I send you food because I can’t stand the thought of you forgetting to eat.
” My voice dropped lower. “I want to fuck you until you can’t remember anyone’s name, anyone’s touch, but mine. ”
I reached out and brushed away the remnants of tears I’d caused.
“I won’t apologize for wanting you. For needing you. But I am sorry for hurting you.” I swallowed hard, the words foreign on my tongue. “I’m fucking sorry, Annie.”
These weren’t calculated words designed to achieve an outcome. They weren’t part of some elaborate scheme or manipulation, though I wish they were.
They were just true.
I’d never apologized like this before. Not to anyone. Apologies were weaknesses, openings that others could exploit. They were admissions of failure, and I didn’t fail.
Except with her.
“I hurt you.” My hands shook slightly as I cupped her face. “I knew exactly how to hurt you, and I did it anyway.”
She searched my face, looking for the lie, the hidden agenda.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to be sorry without trying to control it or turn it into something that serves me.”
This vulnerability was fucking excruciating, like having my skin peeled away, exposing everything underneath to the air. I wasn’t sure I could ever do this again. Wasn’t sure I’d survive it if I tried.
“I can’t forgive you,” she finally whispered. “Not for lying about Dread. Not for knowing he was killing Wardens while you...” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”
I’d known this was coming, had calculated the probability at 97.8%. Knowing didn’t make it hurt less.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Then what do you expect?” she asked, tracing the edge of the mask in her hands.
“I expect to spend the rest of my life wanting you anyway. I expect to keep proving I’m exactly the monster you think I am, while hoping you’ll let me be yours regardless.”
The anger in her eyes fractured and she opened her mouth to say something else when the comms system chirped.
“Boss?” Number Eight’s hesitant voice came through. “Sorry to interrupt, but Havoc is demanding to speak with you. Says it’s urgent.”
Annie handed me my mask and as I took it, I let my fingers brush against hers. I wanted to toss the mask aside, to back her against the wall and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, until she remembered exactly what we’d been to each other.