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His hands find mine again, lacing our fingers together.

I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live.

Never.

I come apart beneath him, screaming his name as he fucks me.

Hard.

Hard enough that it hurts, but I feel like I need the pain to make me whole.

It feels like he’s turning me inside out, pushing, pulling, twisting.

He’s taking every single part of me, and I take it because I begged for it.

Because I think I might die if he tells me no ever again.

And then he explodes into me with a growl that echoes off the walls of the room—his body shuddering as he empties himself into me, his fingers digging into my hips just enough to leave bruises for tomorrow.

But I don’t care.

Tomorrow doesn’t matter because tonight, everything is about us.

Draco and me and this bed and this moment where nothing else matters but us being together is the only reality that matters.

When everyone else walks away and leaves me because I don’t fit into the box they built for me anymore, I know he will still be there.

He will be mine, and I will be his, and no one else will ever matter again.

Chapter 22

Draco

Ilie beside Mercy, her soft breaths singing to me in the silence. She sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware of the nightmare I’m planning for her. I watch her, a knot of guilt twisting in my gut, an unfamiliar feeling that gnaws at me.

What have I done?

I’ve always been at home in the darkness, thriving in the shadows, but tonight those shadows feel colder, heavier.

As I watch her, her eyelids flutter, a small sigh slipping from between her lips. I hold my breath, waiting for her to wake up, but she stays asleep. She stays lost in dreams—dreams that are likely far purer than any I could ever hope to have.

She trusts me.

She doesn’t think I’d hurt her.

I hate myself for it, but I plan to.

I plan to strip everything away from her until she only has me.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Her trust in me is a burden I never asked for, yet here it is, a weight pressing down on my chest. I can’t help but wonder what she would thinkif she knew the truth—if she saw the horrible things that I think about when she’s not watching.

Carefully, I roll out of bed and stand up. The mattress creaks, and I freeze, listening for any change in her breathing. There is nothing but silence. Mercy stays asleep.

Good.

Not that I’m all that surprised.

She’s always been a heavy sleeper.