Page 38 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

The queen’s words still echoed in my mind, circling like vultures, tearing into the fragile resolve I had left.

“They always die.”

“You kill them.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, my stomach twisting into knots as I stepped into my cabin.

Malakai stirred in bed at my entrance, stretching lazily, his silver hair mussed from sleep. His lips curled into a drowsy smile—soft, unguarded, devastating.

And for a single, traitorous second, I almost lost my nerve.

Almost.

I clenched my jaw, steeling myself for what had to come next.

Before he could speak, I cut him off.

"We need to talk.”

His brows lifted, his gaze following me as I grabbed my pack and began shoving gear into it. I moved fast, efficient, not giving myself time to hesitate.

Malakai sat up fully, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Going somewhere without me, love?”

His voice was light, teasing, but there was something beneath it—a thread of wariness, of concern.

I latched onto that. Twisted it. Used it as a weapon because I had to.

I nudged my pack with my foot and forced a smirk, injecting my voice with as much arrogance as I could muster.

"As a matter of fact, yes. You’re not invited.”

He recoiled slightly, his teasing smile faltering. “Ouch.”

His voice was softer now, more careful.

"What’s going on, love?”

The hurt on his face was unbearable, and I had to turn away before it shattered me completely.

I couldn’t do this.

I didn’t want to do this.

The images from the washbasin flooded my mind—the warmth of blood pooling in my hands, slithering down my skin like a lover’s touch. The weight of a dagger pressing into Dom’s throat. The empty, lifeless look in Malakai’s violet eyes.

I had to.

I must.

A sharp breath escaped me. My hands trembled as I shoved another item into my pack.

Behind me, the wooden floor groaned as Malakai took a step closer.

“Nix,”

he said, his voice softer now, careful.

"What’s wrong? Talk to me. Did you have another nightmare?”

His hands landed on my arms, strong but gentle, curling protectively around me like he could shield me from whatever haunted me.

If only he knew.

I fought the urge to lean into him, to borrow his strength, to tell him everything.

But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

He turned me to face him, his touch impossibly tender.

"Nix? My heart. My love. Tell me what troubles you.”

His fingers trailed up, cupping my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek as he tried to coax me into looking at him.

I shut my eyes, knowing that if I met his gaze, I would break.

If I looked at him, if I saw the trust in his eyes, the love—

I wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done.

And then he would die.

“You always kill them.”

I forced my body to go cold. Forced my heart to turn to stone.

Then I shoved his hand away.

“Don’t call me that,”

I snapped, wrenching myself from his grip.

"Don’t touch me.”

Malakai’s face darkened, confusion flickering across his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, his shock was so great.

I shut my eyes and remembered all the things he had whispered into my ear over the last two days.

I love you.

I held onto those words, tucked them away in the deepest, safest part of me, a place no one could reach. A place no one could rip open and destroy.

Then I forced my eyes open. And I did what had to be done.

“I made a mistake.”

Relief flooded Malakai’s face, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

“A mistake?”

He exhaled a breath like he’d been holding it in. His shoulders relaxed.

"That’s all? Nix, whatever it is, we can figure it out—”

He reached for me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and it took everything in me not to lean into his touch.

I dragged a hand through my hair, forcing myself to look him in the eye.

"No, Malakai. You are my mistake.”

He looked at me like he’d already lost me. Like I was never his to begin with. And his expression crumpled. His brows bunched together in confusion. “What?”

I swallowed back the taste of blood in my mouth.

"I thought I could be someone different. That maybe . . . maybe I could have this. With you.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head.

"But I was wrong.”

His face paled. He took a half step back. “Nix—”

“Don’t act like this is some big surprise, Malakai. I told you. From the beginning. I told you not to trust me.”

The devastation in his face was worse than any wound I’d ever endured.

"That didn’t stop me from hoping. That didn’t stop me from getting to know you. And I do know you, Nix.”

“No. You think you know me,”

I cut him off.

"You think that because of some decades-old hurt, you understand me.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

I ripped myself from his reach.

"You know nothing. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

He blinked fast, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"Nix, if this is because we’re moving too fast—if you need time, just tell me.”

His voice softened, pleading.

"I didn’t mean to rush you, I—”

“Love is weakness, Malakai,”

I snapped. The words cut like razors on the way out, but I didn’t let myself stop. Didn’t let myself soften.

"You of all people should know that.”

His whole body went rigid. A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.

“Don’t,”

he warned.

The unspoken boundary.

The one thing we never talked about.

How his love for Dom had meant leaving behind Dom’s sister.

But if I wanted him to stay away, I had to cross it. I had to burn every bridge between us.

“Do you want to know the real reason you feel so much guilt?”

He dropped his gaze to the floor, his jaw tight.

"Please don’t do this.”

I took a step back, out of his reach.

"It’s because your love for Dom blinded you.”

He closed the distance between us in three quick strides. “Stop it.”

“It’s because you saved him that a little girl is dead.”

“Enough!”

His voice was a growl, his hands reached for my arms and gripped them tightly.

"I said that’s enough.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. Forced myself to drive the knife in deeper. Forced a sneer, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue.

"I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t think you could handle it. But you were right, Malakai. That girl is dead. Because of you.”

My voice turned to ice.

"It’s all your fault.”

He flinched.

Good.

His breath came fast, uneven. His grip loosened, like I’d just ripped something vital out of him. But still—he held onto me.

Betrayal.

Pain.

It radiated off him in waves, cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

I had done it.

I had broken him.

Broken was easier to stomach than the alternative. Than losing him.

But I wasn’t finished.

I had to make sure he wouldn’t follow. That he wouldn’t come after me. That he wouldn’t waste a single second of his life thinking of me ever again.

I had to save him.

Even if it meant destroying myself in the process.

Love is a weakness.

That’s what I told him.

I looked him right in the eye, let the words settle into the space between us, let them sink their venomous fangs into him the way they were sinking into me.

“Love tears us down, Malakai. It cripples us.”

His fingers dug into my skin, but I didn’t flinch. I had to be sure. I had to know . . .

“I’m the Nightshade,”

I continued, my voice cold, empty. Not Nix, not the girl who kisses him under moonlight, who lays her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The Nightshade. Danixtl’s blade. A weapon.

“I’m not capable of such weakness. I don’t know how to love. I don’t know what it’s like to be so weak.”

I lifted my chin. My final, killing blow.

"To be like you.”

His breath hitched.

I had aimed straight for the heart, and I hadn’t missed.

Malakai’s fingers slackened, then fell away from me completely.

His entire body went rigid, but his violet eyes burned.

"Is that what you think of me?”

His voice was rough, as if the words scraped him raw on their way out.

"You think that because I know how to love, it makes me weak?”

I forced a smile—an awful, empty thing.

"We can’t run from what we are.”

Disbelief carved itself into every inch of his face. Then, as if the very sight of me was poison, he wrenched his gaze away. Like just the sight of me was physically wounding him.

“I was so wrong about you,”

he said, his voice hoarse, like he’d swallowed glass.

I tilted my head, feigning indifference, even as everything inside me begged me to take it back. To fix it. To undo the destruction I had just wrought.

Instead, I shrugged.

"I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

Something flickered behind his eyes—anger, hurt, grief. He swallowed hard, as if holding something back.

Then, so quiet I barely heard it over the blood roaring in my ears, he whispered, “You were right. You did ruin me.”

My stomach twisted violently as my words from so many months ago twisted back to slap me in the face.

I had nothing left but the desperate hope that I clung to. That he would never see me again. Because that would mean I had succeeded. Mission accomplished. He’d be alive.

I dipped my head once—curt, detached. The final severing of the cord that had once tethered us together. Then I bent, snatched my pack off the floor, and slung it over my shoulder and strode out of the cabin.

I didn’t look back.

I descended the ladder in silence, my hands steady, my steps sure, even as my world cracked apart beneath my feet.

I was already several levels down when his voice rang out behind me, his words cutting through the night like a blade to the gut.

“I feel sorry for you, Nix.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing my breath to stay even.

“Don’t be,”

I murmured, never slowing, never stopping. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave.

The ropes creaked beneath my weight as I descended another level. Another. Another.

Then, just when I thought he was done, his voice carried down to me—clear as if he were standing right beside me.

“I feel sorry for you because you’ll never know what it’s like to love someone so much that you’d be willing to do anything for them.”

The words slammed into me like a battering ram.

A rebel tear slipped down my cheek.

I kept my head down, my grip tightening around the ropes.

“I thought that was you, Nix.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I thought I had found that in you.”

You did. I’m doing this for you.

The words clawed their way up my throat, raw and desperate, but I swallowed them down, locked them away where he’d never hear them. Where they would fester and rot, just like everything else inside me.

Maybe this was the cruelest thing I had ever done.

But at least he’d be alive to hate me for it.

The ropes beneath my hands groaned under my weight, the wood of the bridges creaking in protest as I descended. Every movement felt sluggish, heavy, as if the weight of what I’d done had settled into my bones, anchoring me in place.

I wanted to look back.

Las Madres, I wanted to look back.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Instead, I forced myself lower, my fingers aching with the strain of holding onto the rope, as if the pain could ground me. As if it could stop the tearing inside my chest.

I could still hear his breathing above me—ragged, uneven. Could still feel his presence, like a phantom weight pressing down on me, refusing to let me go.

I had done what I needed to do. I had cut him out, severed whatever fragile thing had been growing between us. I had done it brutally, just to make sure there was nothing left for him to hold onto.

He was safe now.

He would hate me now.

And that was the only way this would work.

One step. Then another.

His words haunted me, chased me down the tree.

“I thought that was you, Nix. I thought I had found that in you.”

I gritted my teeth, pushed through the sharp sting at the backs of my eyes.

I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. The warmth of his breath against my temple. The weight of his arms around me in the dark.

The way he had looked at me, before I had destroyed it all.

Before I had torn it apart with my own hands.

Because I would rather him hate me than let him die.

Because I was the Nightshade.

And I did not deserve love.