Page 44 of Claimed In Darkness

44

NAIRA

I should have left him in the dark.

I should have done it fast. Without hesitation. Without looking back.

I should have made it painless.

But that was never my way, was it?

No.

I was always meant to destroy him.

He let me shred him to pieces.

He’s still sleeping when I stand over him. The fire has burned down to embers, a dull glow casting his face in deep shadows.

He looks different like this.

Less of the monster I first met.

Less of the warlord who put his hands around my throat and dragged me into his world.

Less of the man who ruined me.

And more of something else.

He’s somewhat breakable. Something I should want to protect.

Something I should still love.

Not anymore.

He doesn’t matter in the bigger span of things.

I am not the woman who once burned for him.

That woman died somewhere between the dagger and the hunger, between the curse and the relic, between the last time he kissed me and the last time I let him.

That woman is gone. Over.

And I have no room left for regret.

Not when he is the last thing tethering me to the world I am meant to leave behind.

He loved me, didn’t he? Even if he never said it.

I felt it in the way his hands lingered.

When his voice softened, just enough to let me slip inside. He would rather die than let me go.

But he should have known better.

I am not something to be kept.

There’s no holding me back.

I am something to be used.

This idea seems perfect, I don’t resent it.

I don’t fight it anymore.

This was always going to end this way.

Deep down, he knows this will happen.

I lean over him, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath. He’s breathing and alive while I’m neither.

He stirs, lips parting slightly, breath uneven.

I wonder what he’s dreaming about.

Does he feel it?

I wonder if he feels it coming, the way an animal senses a predator before the killing blow.

And still, I hesitate.

I want to remember.

The feel of his eyes on me.

The warmth of his touch when I was still something human.

I want to remember when he tried to save me, when I didn’t want to be saved.

After this—he will never look at me like that again.

He will only see what I have become.

I touch him one last time.

His lashes flutter, lips parting slightly.

His body knows before his mind does.

Some deep, primal part of him senses what is happening—that I am about to slip away.

And still, he doesn’t stop me because he knows I won’t let him.

His fingers twitch, like he might reach for me, might pull me down into him, might hold me there until I forget why I have to leave.

But he doesn’t.

I exhale slow, letting my fingers drag down his throat, over his pulse, memorizing the way it still beats, steady and strong.

When I walk away, it will be the last time I feel it.

The last time I am allowed to touch him.

The last time I can pretend we still have a future.

And when I pull away—I do not look back.

I make it to the end of the clearing before he speaks.

"Naira."

One word.

Not a command.

Not a question.

Not a plea.

Just my name.

I close my eyes.

I hate how it sounds in his voice.

Like I still belong to him.

More like I am still his.

Like he has already forgiven me before I’ve even finished walking away.

I turn my head slightly, just enough for him to see what I need him to understand.

That I am not hesitating.

That I am not unsure.

That I have already made my choice.

And it is not him.

He stans slowly, and doesn’t chase me.

He still believes there is a version of this where I do not betray him.

Zephiran loves me—that is his greatest weakness.

I am not the woman he loves.

That woman has disappeared.

I refuse to let him kill himself trying to bring me back.

So I do the only thing that will make him let me go.

I make sure he hates me.

I raise my chin slightly, lips parting, voice smooth.

Empty.

Cruel.

A weapon wrapped in silk.

"You should have known I would leave you first."

His body locks for a split second .

Just long enough for me to see it land.

Long enough for me to know that I have finally, truly hurt him.

Not physically.

Not with steel.

With the truth.

This was never a love story. A human and a dark elf? Impossible.

Few have beat the odds, but still impossible for most. Some have died trying.

It’s definitely not for us.

He lets me walk away. Not because he wants to.

Not because he has given up.

But because he is still trying to understand what he did wrong.

What he could have changed.

What he could have done to make me stay.

But there was never an answer.

Never a way to stop this.

Never a version of us that did not end in blood.

And as I disappear into the trees, as I leave him behind for the last time, as I feel the relic inside me pulse with approval, I know?—

The next time we see each other?—

It will not be as lovers.

It will be as enemies.