Page 126 of Taint My Soul

Seventeen years.

“You really think Saint King loves you? You’re disposable, Mason, and you’re only needed when you have something to offer. You’re nothing. You think a man like him can love a broken thing like you?” His words cut across my skin violently. And I take the brutality of his hatred because that’s what I have done most of my life.

I’m a deception. A manipulative contract. A spy. A traitor.

And Saint saw all that and stayed. He must be really stupid to stay with a man like me.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even realize when he leaves me in the empty restroom.

I’m too discombobulated that I can’t even stand on my own feet. What if David’s right? I was broken anyway, so there was no way Saint truly thinks he can love me.

One day, he’d get tired of me and ask me to leave, or maybe even worse, he’d have to choose between his family and me. And of course, his family would have to come first.

I’m never enough.

I’m never the one people would make an effort for.

I’m the pawn in a game of ruthless kings. Easily disposable. Easily picked apart.

I manage to leave the bathroom, a shell of myself, supporting the weight of my body against the wall. I slip into the elevator and chew on my lower lip, doing everything I can to keep my tears from falling.

All I have wanted since that night was to get this shit over with.

That was the job.

Earn my freedom and leave.

But here I am, entertaining the thoughts of a man I shouldn’t have even dreamed of wanting.

And I’m so fucking stupid for thinking that someone like me deserves a happy ending.

I have never gotten one, and I’m never getting one.

The cold night air traverses over my skin as I step outside the building. A few guests linger in front of the compound in groups, and others are leaving the premises in their expensive cars. I spot Bernard where we’d left him and quickly stride toward him.

“Hey.” My voice cracks. Guilt digs into my already devastated skin when I see the healed scars on his face. He bore the consequences of my actions, and I didn’t get punished for what I did.

Saint just took me back with open arms.

“Mason, you’re here.”

“Yeah. Can you drive me to my old apartment? I need to pick up some things.”

“Sure.” He holds the door open for me, and I get in, waiting for him to ignite the engine and leave this miserable place.

Bernard turns on the engine once he’s behind the wheel and reverses out of the parking lot. “I changed my mind. Please, take me home.”

“Sure.” Bernard nods and gives me a firm nod from the rearview mirror.

A hollow, unyielding ache sits in my chest as the building fades behind us, and the car zooms through the city. David’s words replay in my thoughts. His voice grows so loud that I’m unable to push it all away.

And I fucking hate that he’s getting under my skin.

I hate that all I feel is resentment and anger.

He took my parents away from me. He left me with only their memories, but even with that, his constant abuse had eaten away at the little I had of them until there was almost nothing left.

How do I move on from the fact that my parents’ killer had been close all along? All those years when I had asked questions, he knew the truth, and he kept it from me.