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The doubt creeps in like a poison, seeping into every corner of my mind, twisting my thoughts until I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just the fear talking. I love him. I hate him. I need him. I want to run as far away as I can. But I know I won’t. I’m too deep, too far gone. And the realization terrifies me.
I rise from the floor, careful not to wake him, and move toward the window. The city is just starting to wake up, the first hints of daylight creeping over the horizon. It’s a cool, gray morning, the kind that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like the sun might never rise. Fitting, I suppose, considering the state of my soul right now.
Caius stirs behind me, and I tense, wondering if he can sense the turmoil inside me. He always seems to know what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, even before I do. It’s part of what makes him so dangerous and intoxicating. He knows how to push all the right buttons, how to keep me on the edge, teetering between fear and desire, love and hate.
Which is exactly where he wants me.
“Tatum,” his voice is rough with sleep, a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. “Come back to bed.”
I hesitate, my fingers curling around the edge of the window frame as if it could anchor me to something solid, something real. But there’s nothing real in this world anymore. Only Caius and the darkness he’s pulling me into.
“I can’t sleep,” I murmur, not turning around, not trusting myself to meet his eyes.
He’s silent for a moment, and I can feel his gaze on me, sharp and probing like he’s trying to read the thoughts I’m desperately trying to hide.
“Is it what happened last night?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “Do you feel guilt? Regret? Because you shouldn’t.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. I should lie, should tell him that everything’s fine, that I’m fine, that I’m exactly where I want to be. But the words stick in my throat, tangled up in the fear and confusion that’s been growing inside me since the moment I plunged the knife into that man’s chest.
“Caius… I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. I can hear him moving behind me, the mattress squeaking under his weight as he gets out of bed. My heart races as he approaches, every instinct telling me to run, hide, and do something to protect myself from whatever comes next.
But I don’t move. I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot, trapped between the fear of what he might do and the need to be close to him, to feel his touch, even if it burns me.
He steps up behind me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, his touch firm but not painful. “Look at me,” he commands, and despite everything, I find myself obeying, turning to face him, my eyes locking with his.
There’s a darkness in his gaze, a possessiveness that makes my skin crawl and my heart pound in equal measure. But there’s something else too, something I’ve never seen before. A flicker of uncertainty, of vulnerability, like he’s just as lost in this as I am.
“You’re mine, Tatum,” he says, his voice low, intense. “And I’m yours. We’re in this together. You can’t back out now.”
“I’m not backing out,” I protest, even as doubt claws at my insides. “But… Caius, this life… it’s changing me. It’s consuming me.”
“Good,” he replies, his grip on my shoulder tightening. “That’s what I want. I want you to embrace it. I want you to embrace me. This is who you were always meant to be, don’t you see that? It was them who raised you to be who you were before. They fucking molded you into what they wanted you to be, not what you were really meant for. Don’t you see that? I know you can feel it.”
He’s right. Regardless of how dark and sick the shit we’re doing is, I can’t deny that part of me enjoys it. Part of me craves it.
“But what if I don’t want to?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I see the flicker of anger in his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, “Feel it, I mean.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he says, his voice cold, hard. “You’re already in this, Tatum. You’ve already crossed the line. There’s no going back.”
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the truth of his words, but it’s no use. He’s right. I’ve gone too far and done too much. I’ve killed for him. I’ve let him lead me down a path I never wanted to be on, and now I’m trapped with no way out.
But there’s a part of me—a small, rebellious part—that still wants to fight, that still wants to find a way to reclaim who I used to be, to find some semblance of the girl I was before Caius came into my life.
Caius watches me, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer, his presence suffocating. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small vial of pills, the sound of them rattling together, sending a shiver down my spine. His movements are deliberate, almost slow as if he's savoring the moment, knowing that I’m about to break.
“You want it to stop?” His voice is low, almost a whisper, as he holds out the vial, his gaze never leaving mine. “This is how you make it stop, Tatum. This is how you forget, how you numb the pain. Take them, and everything will fade away. All the fear, all the guilt—it’ll disappear.”
I stare at the vial, the pills inside glinting in the dim light, a mixture of opioids and other substances I can’t even begin to identify. My stomach churns with a mix of dread and longing, the conflict inside me tearing me apart. I know what these pills will do to me. I know the numbness they bring, the way they dull the edges of reality, wrapping me in a haze where nothing matters.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Nothing matters. Not the blood on my hands, not the darkness creeping into my soul. And maybe that’s exactly what I want. Maybe that’s the only way I can survive this.
“Take them,” Caius urges, his voice more insistent now. He steps closer, pressing the vial into my hand, his fingers curling around mine, forcing me to hold it. “Stop fighting, Tatum. Stop pretending you can go back to who you were. You’re mine now, and this… this is what you need.”
My breath catches, my heart pounding in my chest as I look up at him, his face a mask of cold determination. He’s not going to let me go. He’s never going to let me go. And deep down, I know that part of me doesn’t want him to. Part of me craves this, craves the chaos, the destruction, the sweet oblivion these pills promise.
With trembling hands, I open the vial, the pills tumbling into my palm, tiny white ovals that seem so harmless, so deceptively innocent. I hesitate, my mind screaming at me to stop, to throw them away, to run. But my body betrays me, my fingers closing around them, my hand shaking as I bring them to my mouth.
