Page 62 of Queen of Madness

They didn’t even notice I walked away. Or maybe they did and didn’t care. And now? Now I am being a total fucking creeper and watching them from behind a row of bushes. Harlow would make fun of me for the rest of time if she saw me crouched down with my face pressed into the sharp shrubs.

Who am I kidding? That sweet beam of light doesn’t have a wicked bone in her body. In fact, it’s been quite fun stealing some of it for myself. Because until this very moment, light, in general, has successfully avoided Embros estate altogether.

When Onyx’s parents died, it brought one catastrophe after another, but somehow, they held through the storm—the need to avenge, stronger than the desire for death. But that’s all it’s ever been. Survival.

Living long enough to kill those that wronged her. But then what comes after? We’ve discussed it before, but she only ever dismisses our concerns. She can’t hide from us, though. We all see it.

Life is a struggle for her now. She finds pockets of relief when causing pain to the filth we collect for intel. We both know she doesn’t torture them for what they’ve done. To try and make them feel the agony they caused others. Nope. I think Boss hurts them the way she does, so for a moment, she isn’t the only one in the room suffering and wishing for death.

I believe it gives her a moment of peace—watching them suffer physically the way she does internally. And the moment she grants them mercy and kills them, I see the way her eyes flutter closed, pretending that it’s her.

A warm droplet splashes on my arm. I look down and realize I’ve been crying.

Part of the reason is simple, knowing she lives in torment and there’s nothing we can do to help her. But the other reason, one I hate to admit out loud, is that none of us are enough to make her want to stay after all this is over.

I love her. We all do. And not because she saved us. But because she gave us a reason tocontinue. To live. To laugh. Tolove.

The necessary things to have a decent life. It’s the reason I always tell her personal guards that twisting up her cervix is part of their job description. It’s never worked, though. She’s never slept with any of them.

Until now.

Unlike her normally passive and bored expression, she seems... serene. There’s a small tilt to her lips, and her eyes are soft around the edges, even her eyebrows are relaxed.

They’ve definitely played hide the sausage.

But something else has happened too. Something changed. Nothing big or monumental. More like small and delicate.

Yet, even with the smallest chip in glass, it’s only a matter of time before the next hit makes it shatter.

“Why do you hate sunny days?” I ask, leaning back against the warm wood bench.

Onyx sucks in a bit of air, finally breaking her gaze with me to look around the garden.

She’s beautiful. Her amber skin glows under the natural light, while contrasting against the bright green. When she returns her eyes to me, she sits down.

It’s odd, we’re only about a foot apart and yet I want to draw her closer. Inhale her fresh citrus scent.

“One of my worst days happened while the sun was shining. It was like a spotlight, big and bright, directed at something that will live in my mind forever.”

“Your parents.”

She nods, her hands folding together as she rests them on her lap.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that.” I fight the urge to touch her, and instead lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. She tracks my movement, her eyes flickering over my frame.

“It was to be expected. They were the most prominent Mafia family in Washington.”

“And now you are,” I reply. “And that doesn’t change the fact that it was unfortunate. Even more so because you had to witness it.”

Her stonelike face falters, her lashes fluttering quickly as she swallows thickly. “It was unfortunate.”

“I can never begin to understand how you feel. No one can. But I hope you’ve given yourself time to work through your grief.”

Her expression changes, shifting from something of surprise with wide eyes and raised brows to confusion, the line in the middle of her forehead creasing. “I don’t have time to work through any type of grief. I didn’t then and don’t now. Nothing will help me heal until those who are responsible are buried beneath my rose bushes.”

I pull my bottom lip through my teeth, nodding. I know better than anyone that depending on your enemy’s death, to deal with your own shit is the worst thing you can do. “You need to heal outside of that. Their deaths should be a penance, but not your salvation.”

“How do you suppose I do that, Kane?”

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