Page 10 of Darkest Before Dawn (His Perfect Darkness #2)

“Don’t you understand? This is why I survived.

To become a detective, to stop people like the Bondage Killer from preying on innocent families.

” I dig down deep through the shards of myself to put my feelings into words.

“After my family died, I didn’t understand why—why they were murdered, why I had to keep living.

And this is what I realized: every murderer I stopped meant another person lived.

Instead of being a victim, they could survive and thrive.

They could have a life with a home and a family.

..” I’m breathing hard, like I’ve run up a flight of stairs.

Because it hurts to say this. It’s hard to think about the responsibility I bear.

And it hurts more to think of what little my life has become.

“If I can save one little girl from going through what I went through, it’ll be worth it.

My life will make sense. Because she’ll get to live the life that was taken from me. ”

“The life you won’t allow yourself to have,” Rex says, leaning in close enough that his hair brushes my forehead. “Because you’ll never allow yourself to have a home. A family.”

“I—” I can’t refute that because it’s true. I’ve dedicated myself fully to the cause of justice and sacrificed everything else.

“You’ve made yourself a martyr. Giving up everything for people who may not deserve it.”

“She deserves it,” I insist, even though I’m talking about a hypothetical child.

“She is gone,” he snaps. “She became you.”

I gasp like I’ve been slapped. My chest stings.

“As much as I know what it’s like to focus your life on a single purpose, I can’t let you sacrifice yourself.” He grips my arms as if reassuring himself that I’m here. As if he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“If you had any kindness in you. . . if you ever cared for me as more than just a plaything you can train to orgasm on command. . . you would let me go. You’d let me be who I need to be and do what I need to do.

You can call it my purpose or destiny, but it’s more than that, Rex.

Hunting down monsters and bringing them to justice is all I have. It’s all I will ever have.”

As I speak, his head bows like it’s under a great weight. His fingers flex on my arms in an involuntary movement, and when he finally speaks, his voice is almost a whisper. “What about me?”

“What?”

“You’re all I have, Inara. And I can’t lose you.

” He raises his face, and the terrible sorrow written on his features is too much for me to bear.

“You won’t let me in. You won’t make space in your life for us because you’re afraid if you love someone, you’ll lose them like you did your family.

You think it’ll be easier if you just don’t allow yourself to have things.

So you condemn yourself to being alone.”

I stare at him, breathing hard. It would hurt less if he reached through my ribs and squeezed my heart.

“But I finally found you,” he says, “and I’m not giving you up. You might be willing to throw your life away, but I can’t allow it. You might be fine with sacrificing yourself for justice, but I’m not.”

My lower lip trembles. “Rex,” I whisper. I cup his cheek, and he leans into my hand, his eyes closed. I don’t see Rex Roy, billionaire. I see a little boy standing at his parents’ graves with a devastated look on his face. He’s lost so much.

I want to hold him and comfort him like he’s comforted me.

But I don’t dare get closer to him. It’s too dangerous to let him in.

“This is all I have,” I whisper. “My mission, my fight for justice. It’s all I have.”

He presses his forehead against mine. “And you’re all I have.” The air gusts out of him like he’s been punched. I feel his pain reverberating through my own body.

He turns his head so his lips brush my face. “I guess. . . I had hoped you’d say the same about me.”

I turn from Rex, unwilling to face him any longer.

His arms tighten around my torso as if he won’t allow me to retreat even a millimeter. He’s already trapped my body, but he wants more.

He wants everything.

And even though we’re fighting, I relax, soaking in his warmth.

“If you ever felt anything for me, if any of it was real, you would set me free,” I tell him sadly.

My body doesn’t know he’s my enemy, and I’m too overwrought to keep up my walls. It’s a relief to relax. My subconscious doesn’t see Rex as a threat. Quite the opposite. It’s only in Rex’s arms that I feel safe.

I don’t know what to do with that, so I let it go and let my mind drift.

In a drowsy half-sleep, I fall into a scene from the past. It’s not a dream, not a vision, but a memory.

I’m gripping twin ropes, staring up at the canopy of leaves. The sunlight streams between the green.

There’s a golden quality to the air. I don’t know if it’s real or a halcyon haze coating my memory.

My father is behind me. He calls my name, and birds explode from the trees above my head, flying away in a dark group that blots out the sun.

This was my childhood. A simple time filled with wholesome moments. I’m sure it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but I only remember the good. My memory is like a faded photograph, showing only the happy smiles and none of the dark corners of the day.

My brothers and I went to school and then to the park, where Dad made us do our homework on a picnic table.

When we were finished, he allowed us to play before going back to the house, where Mom would have her account books spread over the dining room table and something bubbling in the slow cooker.

I was happy then, and like anyone truly happy, I was completely unaware of it.

You think it’ll be easier if you just don’t allow yourself to have things, Rex said. And he’s right. I have nothing of my old life—just empty cupboards and solitary meals, a life revolving around my work. A life my younger self wouldn’t understand. A life that isn’t a life at all.

That girl is gone. She became you.

I died in my bedroom that night. But the Bondage Killer didn’t snuff out my life. I did.

More memories rise to the surface. Christmas, making tamales while my mom, aunt, and grandmother weave a constant conversation over my head.

My father’s gloved hand squeezing mine, ready to lift me up if I slip on the icy path.

My brothers and I lying on the floor surrounded by our toy cars and plastic dinosaurs, a tiny city of our own making.

I haven’t allowed myself to think of these happy times. The walls I erected kept everything out. The good, the bad, the pain.

But remembering the good is worth the pain. And Rex gives me a safe place to feel it.

Y ou’re afraid if you love someone, you’ll lose them like you did your family.

He doesn’t know how close to the truth he is. Everyone I’ve gotten close to has died. I have no choice but to push them away.

You condemn yourself to being alone.

It’s only now, imprisoned and secure in Rex’s arms, that I start to wonder if I could live another way.