Page 77 of Loving the Tormentor

The second the hospital gave me the all-clear last night, I brought her here. They checked her lungs, gave her oxygen, stitched her eyebrow, pulled the shards of glass out of her hand before wrapping it in a bandage, and then she was mine to care for again.

What a small man Chase was.

What the fuck!I can still hear his scream when I found him running next to Nyx's trailer park.Get off me!

I can still smell the heavy, sickening scent of his blood as it was gushing out of his neck. I cut him from behind to avoid itgetting all over my hoodie. It's Sophie's favorite, and I'd jump off a building if I got it ruined.

I can understand losing your mind over Nyx, but there are consequences for hurting her. Chase knows that firsthand now. It's unfortunate he's not around to warn others.

Nyx was delirious over her violin and her dad when I put her to bed, but I'm not sure at what point she was planning on worrying about herself. And I think that's what angers me the most.

Her deep brown hair is splayed around her as she sleeps on her back, her fringe messed up and to the side. Before last night, I spent time observing Nyx Mayer. I know her button nose and freckles by heart. Her heart-shaped lips, her wide brown eyes. But it's different to spy on her from the window of her trailer and finally get to watch her while she sleeps in my bed. The last time she was here, I was too busy writing, not observing. Everything about her triggers something in me. Every small breath, every anxious movement of her closed eyelids. Every time she looks around her on the streets, as if someone's following her. That someone is usually me.

Yes, everything about her triggers something in me, and right now, it's something deadly.

I believe I'm ready to throw my life up in flames, become ashes and never take a single breath again if it means it fixes her. The issue is that such sacrifices rarely make a difference. I would do it, truly, but I have enough experience to know it wouldn't even be enough. Selfishness, however, would do the job. Burn everything in my path…that could work. Tearing cities to the ground and destroying everyone who hurt her would help too.

And that's why I know more deaths are coming. It's inevitable at this point.

For my muse. For mytrésor.

There's a soft knock on the door, and I reluctantly tear my gaze away from her as I stand up and exit the room. Wren looks at me, his unimpressed stare nothing compared to my usual one. He simply doesn't have the same suicidal outlook on life that I do. When I'm unreactive or unimpressed, it's because that's how I truly feel about everything, not because I'm trying to show my friend that he did something bad.

We walk down in silence to the living room, where Chris Murray is already waiting. They both stare at me as I sit down comfortably on the sofa.

"Are we having a tea party?" I ask when they keep the silence going.

"You fucked up," is all Chris says.

I lean back, wondering how these two dare talk to me about fucking up.

"I solved a problem," I reply, as if there's nothing simpler to fix than the situation I put myself in.

"There was a fire in a mobile home, and a dead body with a slit throat in the forestnextto the mobile home," Wren intervenes. "You couldn't put the bodyinthe burning trailer? Save everyone some trouble?"

"You didn't put the sign of the Silent Circle on it," Chris insists.

I watch both of them, studying who I should answer first, and decide to go in order of questions.

"Nyx's trailer was practically in ashes when I found Chase running away. There was no point in trying to get him to burn with the rest."

The satisfaction of slitting that man's throat is what keeps me thinking it wasn't a mistake.

"As for tracing the circle on his chest, I forgot."

The circle is a simple, small carving a member of the Silent Circle has to trace on a body if they make a fatal mistake. It's forthe police to understand the investigation must lead nowhere. Only Shadows are allowed to use it, and it should be a rare occasion, more in case of an accident than anything else. But I've always had privileges with my father's secret society, and for someone who isn't even a Shadow, I do abuse that mark.

"You forgot?" Chris repeats, incapable of hiding the shock on his face.

"I forgot," I admit again. "Nyx was being taken to the hospital, and I wanted to be there when she woke up. So, yeah. I forgot."

"Youfucked up," Wren pushes through gritted teeth. "And now that poor girl is going to pay for it."

Shrugging, I calmly say, "The only reason I fucked up is because I killed the motherfucker slowly. He bled to his death too quickly when he deserved to suffer. But if you want to know how much I regret doing it, let me tell you, I'm going to frame the knife I did it with. I hope that answers any further questions."

"For fuck's sake, Achilles, wake up," Wren snaps. "You're not aboveeverything. The cops are going to come after her. Because the body was her ex's. Because it was at her place. Becauseshedoesn't have the privilegesyouhave. She's beaten up. Her place looks like she tried to cover evidence."

He stays silent while I run through options in my head. It's not like I could let the man live.