Page 131 of Midnight Conquest

Broderick’s stomach twisted, and shame burned through him. He dropped his gaze to the floor. He owed her the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

“Twenty-two,” he said hoarsely. “Innocent people. Men, women. It was before I learned tae control the Hunger.” His fists clenched tight. “I’ll never forget their faces…or their names, the lives they lived. They’re branded intae me soul.”

She flinched but said nothing. Her face was unreadable, a mask carved from stone, and it slaughtered him.

“And you chose this?” she asked after a moment, her voice tight with restrained emotion. “You chose to become…this?”

He nodded, his throat closing like a vise. “Aye. I made the choice. But I did it tae avenge me family.”

Her brow furrowed, and he saw the moment her compassionbegan to crack through her fear. “Your family,” she whispered.

He hesitated, the memories stirring like restless spirits in a crypt, the pain bleeding fresh once more. “Angus Campbell and his father, Frasier, destroyed my family. In 1478, they raided our village. My mother, Moira, fought like a lion at my side.”

Davina’s lips parted, something softening in her eyes. “I can imagine she did. Amice showed me her portrait. She looked like a force to be reckoned with.”

Broderick managed a faint smile, the memory a bittersweet balm against his aching heart. “Aye, that she was.” His voice dropped lower, rough with grief and reverence. “But she died in my arms that night. And my father, Hamish…he couldnae bear it. He threw himself from a cliff no’ long after.”

Davina pressed her hand to her chest, as though to contain the sorrow swelling there, her gaze never leaving his.

“It didnae end there.” Broderick’s voice scraped raw, heavy with memories he could not bury. “Angus returned eight years later, on May Day while our clan celebrated. He slaughtered my brothers, their wives, their wee bairns—every soul who bore my blood.” His voice fractured; grief thickened in his throat. He paused, fighting down the agony that threatened to rise.

“Maxwell… Donnell…” Davina whispered, as if their names spoken too loud would conjure their ghosts in the candlelit chamber.

Broderick nodded, jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone. “He nailed me tae a table—forced me tae watch each life he stole, each scream cut short.” His hands balled into fists, fingernails digging crescents into his palms as the vivid, relentless memories surged forward. “Left me there tae die, nailed tae a table until dawn.” His gaze shifted inward, haunted by visions she thankfully could never see. “Men found me later, cut me downat the bidding of a woman who knew what Angus truly was. That day, I learned the truth—we never had a chance. Angus was immortal.”

His voice faded into bitter silence, eyes lost to another time.

Davina’s fingers curled against his chest. “And that’s why ye became a Vam…”

“Vamsyrian,” he corrected gently. “Aye.”

“Do you regret it?” Her brow creased softly, searching him as if daring to believe in redemption.

“No’ until the night I saw ye feedin’ Cailin at yer breast.” His voice caught, raw with sorrow. “In that moment, I understood what I’d truly given up. Vengeance or no’, I’ll never hold a child of me own. I’ll never…” His voice cracked beneath the weight of unspoken longing. “And worse yet, the way ye looked at me when ye saw me fangs… Och, lass, that’s the deepest cut of all. Tae know I’ll forever be a monster in yer eyes.”

“Broderick,” she breathed his name like it was the only truth left in the world, her fingertips brushing his cheek, steadying him, grounding him. She guided his gaze to hers, and he let her—because he couldn’t look away from the storm and salvation in her eyes.

“I believe you,” she whispered, her voice shaking but sure. “I believe that you’d never harm me or Cailin.”

The words struck him like a blow to the chest, stealing his breath, his reason. He barely dared to blink, afraid this moment would vanish like mist in the morning sun.

“I’ll not lie,” she went on, brave even as her voice trembled. “This darkness in you—it frightens me.”

His heart clenched tight, twisting like a blade inside his chest.

“But in all this time,” she continued, her voice fraying at the edges, “you had every chance to hurt me, and you never did. Youdidn’t.” Her gaze never wavered. “You’ve been the only man who ever protected me.”

Hope clawed its way up inside him, fragile and burning, a flicker of light in his endless dark.Saints, let it be true.

A tearful smile touched her lips, small and fierce, like the first rays of dawn after the longest night. She looked at him as though shesawhim—truly saw him—and still chose him anyway.

“God forgive me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “but I can’t resist you.”

His heart stuttered, then roared to life in his chest.

“This bond between us… it defies reason,” she confessed. “Despite what you are, despite the darkness, I love you beyond sense or safety. I don’t want to imagine a life without you.”

The last of his strength buckled. His knees nearly gave beneath the weight of her words. Broderick bowed his head, pressing his forehead to her belly as though she alone could hold him upright, as though her body—soft and warm andalive—was the only anchor keeping him tethered to this world.

---