Page 40 of Crowned In Venom

40

VARKOS

T he words fall from my lips like ashes, crumbling into nothingness.

"Please."

The great Varkos—warrior, heir to an empire of blood and power—kneels.

I bow before the woman I despise.

Before the monster that made me.

I kneel.

And I beg.

"I don’t want your empire," I rasp, the shackles dragging against my wrists, the iron biting into my skin. "I don’t want your power. I don’t want anything from you."

I lift my head, my body trembling from pain, from exhaustion—from the sheer agony of what I am about to give away.

"Just let her go."

The Matriarch tilts her head, her silver eyes gleaming, hungry.

"What did you say?"

"Take everything." My voice cracks, raw, desperate. "Use me. Kill me. Break me. Do whatever you want."

I bow lower, my forehead pressing to the cold floor.

"Just let her go."

Silence.

A terrible, suffocating silence.

Then—

Laughter.

It starts as a whisper, a low hum of amusement, curling around the edges of the air like smoke.

Then it grows.

Richer. Crazed.

"Oh, my sweet boy."

Her silk robes rustle as she stands, stepping closer.

"I have waited for this moment for so long."

I do not move.

I cannot move.

"Beg me again," she whispers.

I swallow what is left of my pride.

"Please."

A sharp smack across my face.

I taste blood.

"That wasn’t enough," she coos.

I brace myself.

"Crawl."

The command settles into my bones, digging into the very thing that makes me who I am.

I have never bowed to her.

I have never willingly given myself to her.

Not until now.

I press my hands to the floor and move forward, dragging my broken body across the marble.

The chains rattle.

My breath comes in ragged gasps.

Her laughter echoes.

"You look so pathetic," she sighs. "Just like your father when he begged me for his life."

I do not react.

I cannot react.

I reach the tips of her embroidered slippers.

My throat tightens.

I lower myself, pressing my lips against her feet like a dog.

I have never hated myself more.

She moans with pleasure, a sick, twisted sound.

"Finally."

Her hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head up, forcing me to look at her.

"You were made for this, you know," she murmurs, her nails raking along my cheek. "To serve me. To love me."

I shudder.

"You are mine, Varkos."

"You always have been."

The world spins.

I know the truth.

I have always known.

The look in her eyes—this is not a mother’s love.

It never was.

"I am not your son," I whisper.

She stiffens.

Then—a slow, knowing smile.

"Oh?" she hums. "What gave it away?"

A breath of silence.

She leans down, pressing her lips near my ear.

"Was it the way I look at you?"

My stomach turns.

I feel sick.

She brushes her fingers over my lips, over the curve of my jaw.

"Your father looked just like you," she murmurs, almost dreamily.

"But unlike you, he never belonged to me."

I flinch.

"Not truly."

Her fingers curl, digging into my chin.

"But you?"

Her smile is a blade.

"I made you mine."

Everything inside me screams.

I want to rip the skin from my bones, to carve out every memory that ties me to her.

She never loved my father.

She never loved me.

"I knew," I whisper, the words strangling in my throat.

I always knew.

But I didn’t want to accept it.

Because if I did?—

Then I would be nothing.

A child never wanted.

A son never claimed.

A pawn that was never supposed to be born.

I feel something shatter inside me.

And she knows.

She watches me break.

"Now," she purrs, "let us discuss the terms of your obedience."

I barely hear her.

"Your soul, Varkos."

I blink, my body swaying.

"It will belong to me."

She traces my cheek, smiling when I do not pull away.

"I will bind you to me. Forever. And for that, I need you to be willing."

She laughs.

A horrible, beautiful sound.

I stare.

And I know?—

This isn’t just about power.

This is about owning me.

Completely.

I close my eyes.

I have lost.

I am gone.

But—

Anya.

She is still alive.

And I can do this.

For her.

For the only thing that has ever been real.

"Fine," I say, voice hollow.

The Matriarch grins.

"But," I breathe, forcing my broken body to rise to my knees.

"I have one request."

Her eyes narrow.

"Let me see her."

A pause.

A beat of silence.

And then?—

A slow, cruel smile.

"Oh, yes," she purrs.

"I want her to see what you’ve become."

Her laughter follows me into the abyss.