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She’s crying again, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

But she’s not pulling away.

She’s not saying no.

I’ve won.

I imagine the future, Mercy in a white dress, her eyes filled with tears as she pledges her life to me. I see her belly swollen with my child. Then when it’s born, I’ll fuck her again.

Keep her pregnant.

Keep her mine.

Chapter 17

Mercy

Istare at the ceiling, my brain fluttering around like a moth trapped between two panes of glass. The room is dark, nearly pitch black. Maybe the moon is hidden behind the clouds. Draco’s bed feels too big, like it’s not meant for me.

Because it’s not.

What am I doing here?

The question haunts me, but I can’t escape from it. Draco’s proposal hangs in my brain, and it’s all I can focus on.

My fingers twist the sheets, wringing the fabric as if I could squeeze my answers out of the silk. Draco’s scent is floating all around me. It’s all I can smell and all I can taste.

I don’t know what to think or how to feel.

Or maybe it’s memories that cloud my judgment—memories of a time when we were young and innocent, before the shadows claimed him.

Back when he used to smile.

When we laughed together.

But his shadows are all I see now.

They’re everywhere, wrapped around him.

They live in his eyes.

And his touch… his touch ignites a fire within me, a fire that burns hotter than brimstone.

I will burn for it, for how much I love it.

I can still feel the sting of rejection from last night. His body pressed against mine, his breath hot on my skin, and then—nothing. He pulled away, leaving me alone and confused.

Why would he offer to marry me if he doesn’t want me?

All I can think of is who he used to be, the boy who held my hand during Sunday service, his fingers entwined with mine as we sang hymns together. That boy is dead, and the man who took his name is a whole different beast.

Can I marry that man? Can I take his name?

Mercy Killian.

It sounds unnatural.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I shake it away.