Page 57 of Scarred Sacrifice
“Well, let’s think about it. I have twelve hours.” I pause. “Nope, scrap that. I have eleven hours and thirty five minutes to make a decision to either sacrifice my friends or myself. At least this way I can kill myself before making the wrong decision.” I shrug as I shuffle closer to the edge.
“Why would you doubt saving your friends?” she asks.
“Because saving them would put you at risk,” I confess.
Her lips part. “Why?” she asks.
“Well, because they were witnesses to what happened at H—” I start explaining, but she cuts me off.
“No, why would you risk your friends for me?” she asks.
I turn and walk towards her, away from the edge. She stands there, her eyes watching me, like I’m a scientific problem she’s trying to solve. The wind whips her hair in and around her face, and as I reach out and tuck her wayward hair behind her ear, I cup her face in my hands.
“Because you are mine, and I will always protect what’s mine,” I say, repeating those words back to her.
“But we don’t know each other. All we know is lies, death, and how to get each other off,” she counters.
I smirk. “Sounds like the perfect relationship, if you ask me,” I joke.
“Nyx,” she sighs.
“Okay, fine. Some facts. I grew up with my grandparents, both are dead now. My real parents were too interested in their next fix. So, they raised me instead. I joined the academy, and every year, even when I was underqualified, I applied for CIA until I eventually made it in. I live alone, and I’ve never had a serious relationship. Work took over. My favourite movies are the Naked Gun films. My favourite band is Foo Fighters. I don’t have any pets, but I would like a dog. Oh, and I have a black Ducati V4, which is my baby,” I finish. “I also love pizza, but I hate olives,” I add before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Your turn.”
“Um…” She pauses, closing her eyes. “I watched my mother die when I was young. It was her boyfriend.” She swallows, blinking back her emotions. My chest tightens, witnessing her pain and sadness. She pauses. “I killed him,” she confesses.
I’m not stunned by her confession. It stands to reason that she hunted him down to kill him. “I would have hunted him down, too,” I state, assuring her.
She removes my hand from her face and shakes her head no. “I didn’t hunt him down. There used to be cells belowthe Sanctuary. They took him down there when they found my mom. After she made me promise her to continue the fight for those that couldn’t, I walked down there, swiped a blade from the table, and slit his throat,” she confesses. “I was fourteen.”
“Fuck,” I breathe, because what else can I say to that, its fucking messed up.
She nods. “Yeah, fuck” She swallows, the inner battle she's having to contain her emotions visible. “I made a vow that day that I would kill any man that hurt, raped, or killed women. I vowed that I would never be like her. I would never be so weak to allow a man to manipulate me, to make feel vulnerable. I would never fall in love, because love is for fools, and fools get themselves killed,” she states firmly, her hands clenched in fists at her side. “I have scars that run deeper than any blade could cut,” she whispers.
Her telling me this explains so much. Why she is so closed off, why she harbours such anger and hatred, and what she was doing at Henry’s. “You went to get Henry’s list to help the girls he’s trafficked,” I state.
She nods. “And to kill him. We have his daughter,” she adds.
“Isabella is at the Sanctuary?” I ask.
She shakes her head no. “She’s at the Hive receiving help,” she answers before swallowing.
Shit. I had my guesses on why Mor was there, but fuck. “You could have been killed,” I point out. “Being at Henry’s, I mean. He wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, and he would have sold you,” I add. The thought of him touching her, hurting her, the images of her chained up, weak and beaten has my blood turning molten.
“I can’t be the reason your friends die,” she declares, snapping me from my thoughts. I look at her face that is now set to stone, her emotions locked down again.
I shake my head. “Don’t fucking do this. Do not shut down now, not when you are just letting me in,” I snap.
She swallows, and that’s the only sign that she’s feeling my words. “I cannot be responsible for more innocent lives.”
I cup her face in my hands and crash my mouth to hers, kissing her with all that I am. Her hands grip my shirt tight into fists as she kisses me back. It’s the only way I know how she truly feels is in this kiss. I swiftly break the kiss.
“You’d rather I gave my life for theirs?” I ask across her lips, both of us panting.
Her breath hitches in her throat as a tear falls down her cheek. “Yes,” she whispers. I swear, my heart fucking breaks in two hearing her say those words. “I, I’m sorry,” she breathes.
“No,” I rasp. “I know you don’t mean that. It’s you thinking of their lives,” I whisper across her lips in between kissing her, tasting her tears and feeling everything she isn’t saying. “I will go and make sure they don’t breathe a word about you or the club. Make them promise to keep you safe,” I assure her. “I swear, nothing will touch you. Nothing will hurt you ever again.
She steps back and walks to her bike. I frown, watching her. “If this is going to be goodbye, then let’s make it a goodbye to remember,” she says with sadness in her eyes, and a sad smile on her lips.
