Page 48

Veronica

V eronica wakes up with a start, her heart hammering against her ribs. The mechanical alarm clock on her stands reads 10 PM, its full glow the only source of certainty in the dark.

A distant thud pounds in her chest, the exhaustion from earlier before she fell asleep still settled into her bones. Disoriented, she struggles to lift her head from the pillow, and she sees it, a shift in the shadow.

Her breath stutters when she catches the silhouette of a man sitting in the single armchair by the window.

“Oh, my god!” She bolts upright.

Her trembling hand fumbles for the bedside lamp. The yellow light flickers to life, peeling back the darkness just enough to reveal a familiar face.

Kael.

“Did I scare you, darling?” he asks, his voice low, amused. He exhales heavily as he rises from the chair, his movement slow, unhurried.

Veronica can’t answer. Confusion tangles her thoughts, leaving her struggling to make sense of why he is here, in her room, at this hour.

Then, she sees the gift box in his hands. And the bloodstain smeared across it.

Her breath catches. The blood is on his hands too—dark, fresh, painting his pale skin in shades of crimson, like dark-red roses blooming in a Snow-covered garden.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she instinctively shifts back against the headboard.

Kael lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. Too close, his presence suffocating.

“You look so beautiful when you sleep, ladybird.” He reaches for her face, but she flinches away.

A smirk curls his lips, his sharp features cast in wicked amusement. The scream rising in her throat remains trapped beneath her fear.

His gaze flickers back to his hands. The stains are not just on his fingers. They streak up his wrist, splatter across his forearm, staining his crisp white shirt. And then she notices the faint smudges on his cheek, the dark splotches on the lower part of his chest and his collar.

It isn’t paint.

“W-what’s on your hands?” Her kneels pull up to her chest.

“Blood.” He gives a slow, deliberate glance down at himself before returning his gaze to her. A smile tugs at his lips, mocking, sinister.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine.”

Her stomach twists. “W-whose?”

The metallic scent of blood clings to the air, but beneath it, she picks up something else—smoke, like he has been near a fire.

“Are you hurt?” Her eyes dart over his body, searching for a wound despite his words. Her eyes catch the faint print on the other side of his shirt. The blotch shapes into a handprint the more she looks at it.

Someone’s handprint.

Someone dying and begging for a second chance.

Her back stiffens, fear curling around her like a vice. But she refuses to let her thoughts wander.

“The box.” Her gaze locks on the object in his hands. “What’s inside?”

Kael blinks at first as if the box has momentarily skipped his mind. Then, he holds it out to her. “It’s a gift,” he says, almost gently. “For you.”

A gift again?

Hesitation laces her movement as she reaches out, taking the box from him. It’s heavier than she thought. That means it’s not jewelry again, not something delicate.

“I hope you like it,” he murmurs, something dark creeping into his voice.

With trembling fingers, she tugs at the neon ribbon, carefully slipping it free. She barely registers the silkiness of the fabric, though a part of her notes absently that she likes the color and that she may use it again under different circumstances.

Finally, she lifts the lid. And the scent of unfresh blood hit her like a hammer. The cold rush of realization sweeps through her, sending a violent tremor coursing through her limbs. Her fingers slacken and the lid slips free from her grasp.

She refuses to look. Refuses to confirm what she already knows.

“Open your eyes,” Kael urges, his voice smooth, expectant.

Tears burn at her lashes, and she hesitantly obeys. Her gaze drops into the box, and horror grips her in its merciless clutches.

In the box is a human heart. Dark, bloody, dead.

A scream claws at her throat but nothing escapes. Only a choked gasp, strangled by shock.

Kael sighs, a sound of exaggerated disappointment. “This was not the reaction I was hoping for,” he muses. “Considering all the efforts I put into this.”

Veronica can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think. Her entire body trembles, her pulse a frantic staccato in her ears.

Kael’s fingers suddenly clamp around her jaw, forcing her head back and making her look up at him. His grip is bruising, his breath hot against her skin.

“Where’s the fucking gratitude?” he growls, voice laced with something raw and unhinged.

She whimpers.

“I brought your lover’s heart to your doorstep,” he continues, eyes dark and hollow. “Wrapped it all pretty for you. And you can’t even manage to spare me a ‘thank you?”

Tears spill over her lashes. Her chest heaves, but her voice falters.

Kael tilts his head, gaze flickering over her tear-stricken face. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“I didn’t kill him,” he murmurs, his fingers loosening around her jaw only to stroke her face with an unsettling gentleness. “We had a nice chat, actually. About you.”

A sob breaks from her lips.

“He told me about how he fucked you,” Kael continues, his voice laced with something venomous. “How you moaned for him, called his name when my name should’ve been tattooed on your fucking lips already. You gave a part of yourself to him that belonged only to me.”

Veronica shakes uncontrollably, but he doesn’t let go. He keeps stroking her cheek.

“Don’t look so sad now,” he murmurs. “We’re best buds now. We even made plans. Sleepover tomorrow. Maybe braid each other’s hair.” His grin turns sharp like a blade, wicked. “You should probably join us. I’ve always wondered what a threesome is like.”

A sob cracks her body, fingers clenching in the blanket in a desperate attempt to ground herself.

“Come on, say something, ladybird,” he muses. “I went through all this trouble to bring your lover’s heart closer to you, just the way you wanted it, and you are not saying a word to me?”

She whimpers when he suddenly yanks the gift box from her lap. His bloody fingers dip inside, grasping the slick, still-warm organ.

The squelch of shifting flesh makes Veronica’s stomach churn, bile rising from her throat.

“Maybe,” he says, voice lilting with something dark. “You don’t understand what this means. Maybe I should help you appreciate it more.”

She doesn’t get a chance to react when his blood-coated fingers shove forward, pressing something wet against her lips.

Her entire body seizes.

N-no!

“Shhh,” he coos, his grip vice-like as he pushes harder. The muscle is soft, pliant, smeared in Ian’s drying blood. She tries to shake her head, but he clamps down harder, pinching her cheek until her mouth is forced open just enough.

“Open wider.” His voice drips with something twisted. “I don’t wanna have to force the entire thing down your throat.”

Terror explodes in her chest.

She tries to push at him, claw at his hands, but he is stronger, so much stronger.

His thumb hooks into her mouth, parting her lips further. And then—

The taste hits her tongue first—coppery, foul, thick.

She chokes a garbled sob as he presses the chunk against her teeth. The texture is spongy, raw, and strong. And it makes her stomach lurch.

“Chew it,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She shakes her head frantically, whimpering and gagging.

“Chew.”

His hand slides from her jaw to her neck, keeping it there, fingers flexing around her throat.

A sob shudders out of her. She can’t breathe. Her lungs burn.

Her body trembles, instinct kicking at her to fight. But she can’t. The hand around her throat is strong and unyielding.

“Eat.” The hand tightens only a fraction.

The choice is taken as her body betrays her and her mouth closes. The chunk of flesh sits heavy on her tongue.

Kael releases his grip, allowing enough air for her to sob through her nose. When she refuses to Chew still, he smirks, his hand moving lower, hovering over her stomach, pushing, pressing.

She gags.

“Swallow it,” he orders, his tone sickly sweet.

With the cruel pressure building against her abdomen, she realizes she has no choice.

Her jaw quivers as her teeth sink down into the organ.

A squelch.

Warmth.

Metal.

Foul.

She gags, tears pouring down her cheek. Her throat tightens, but before she can swallow it, a violent shudder wracks her body. The pressure coils in her chest and churns in her gut until she doubles over the bed, retching onto the floor.

A sigh—soft, almost disappointed, breaks out of Kael’s lips.

The fingers, cool and steady, slip into her hair, sweeping it away from her face as another wave of nausea overtakes her.

“You’re alright.” His voice is smooth, almost soothing as he strokes her hair with unsettling tenderness. “As long as you’ve learned your lesson.”