Page 8 of His to Destroy

"She won’t take it."

"Then convince her. Before someone else does."

Later that night, I stare out the window of my penthouse. The city glows beneath me, glittering with sin. I used to love this view. Power made everything taste sweeter. But now, all I see are cracks in the glass.

I close my eyes.

I see her.

Nineteen. Rain-soaked. Betrayed.

I never laid a hand on her, but I might as well have.

I left her there. And someone else stepped in.

Someone who hurt her in ways I’d never forgive in another man.

And now she’s here. In my city. Alone. With a child.

And someone is watching.

I won’t let her vanish again.

Even if she hates me for it.

I find her again outside her shop the next morning.

She sees me and stiffens. Her hand curls protectively around her son’s shoulder as he clutches a lunchbox.

"We need to talk," I say.

"I said what I had to say. I have nothing else to say to you."

"You’re being followed."

She doesn’t answer.

"I have proof."

She hesitates. That mother’s instinct, honed razor-sharp by years of hiding, flaring to life.

I pass her the photo.

She doesn’t flinch, but her knuckles go white.

"I don’t want your help."

"You may not have a choice."

She scoffs. “There’s a lot of things that I haven’t had a choice in for the past eight years.”

My breath hitches but I control myself, choosing my words in my head carefully before I say them out loud.

“Almeria...”

She levels her gaze at me. Cold. Controlled.

"You want to help? Stay away."

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