Author: Pepper Winters

Fox would know—he’d learn my secrets through my open book of a daughter. Nothing from my past would be safe.

Clara nodded, happiness glowing in her brown eyes. “I can. Can you tell me some in return? Do you know any good stories? I bet you do. I bet you got your scar fighting a dragon while saving some pretty princess.” She tugged on his hand, excitement flying through her young body.

Fox nodded. “I have a few stories I could share.” He bent in half and whispered in her ear. “I’ve never told anyone, so you’ll have to tell me if my stories are any good.”

Clara beamed up at him, joy swimming in her eyes. “I’ll tell you. I’m sure they’re great, though. Can we go see the horses now?”

Fox looked to me. I looked to Clue. Clue looked to Ben. Ben looked to Clara.

There was only one answer to give, but it wasn’t the one I wanted. I wished Fox had never set eyes on Clara as I doubted I’d ever get them apart.

“Yes, you can go. But I’m coming, too.”

Fox gave me a soul-destroying smile before striding toward the house.

With a heavy heart and my hand clinging to the knife in my pocket, I followed a killer whose fingers were wrapped around my daughter’s.

Chapter 14

All humans collected fond memories. It used to be a favourite pastime of mine: asking fellow recruits what their happiest recollection was. Where did their minds go while they were being beaten or ordered to murder?

Their happy thoughts ranged from cuddly toys, to a pretty girl, to their favourite food. Not once did we include our family.

That was just asking for trouble.

I broke that law by thinking of Vasily.

The three months while we shared a bedroom were the worst and best of my life. I was responsible for his food, water, and shelter. I was his protection. His brother and friend. Knowing he relied on me gave me purpose. He gave me a reason to keep going. He gave me hope.

The day they made me kill him, it ruined everything left inside me. The hope extinguished, all chance of happiness blotted out. All trace of who I’d been erased—just like they’d planned.

I’d lived almost ten years in silent persecution before the walls caved, sun shined, and pain rained anew.

A child was my cure.

The daughter of the woman I tried to kill.

It was time to face my past full of darkness and say fuck you.

It was time to start new memories.

It burned.

How it fucking burned.

Her every touch scraped flesh from my bones, searing me, helping me forget my past.

Her every look peeled away my crimes, offering neither judgement nor compassion.

Her every laugh shaved away my hopelessness, strengthening my will to fight.

But then there was the conditioning.

On top of her miraculous effect, I battled an entire lifetime of orders running fiercely in my blood.

“Kill her.”

“Annihilate her.”

“We won’t command again.”

“Do it.”

The orders were a constant stream of filth in my head.

I sweated and shook and ached with rapidly increasing urges, intensified with refusal.

Being in Clara’s presence gave me all the self-harm I ever needed. Never again would I need to lift a blade to my skin, or coax my blood to flow. As long as I had her near me, I had both pleasure and pain, hope and damnation, sickness and health.

I could never have guessed my Achilles heel would come in the form of a spritely young girl. But every time I looked at her, I felt myself changing, evolving, twisting. My body fought against the lifetime of discipline, shedding its old scales and rottenness.

The transformation gave me fucking wings, but it also crushed me. What if Hazel was right? What if I couldn’t keep my oath and hurt Clara just like I did her mother?

I hadn’t meant to snap today. I tried to stop it even as I fucked her. I just wasn’t strong enough, and that killed me to know how broken my handlers left me.

This isn’t right. Tell her to leave. Run. Never come back.

Looking down at the halo of brown hair surrounding someone so innocent, I knew I could never be a martyr and send her away. That would be a death warrant, and I was selfish—so incredibly selfish—to want both daughter and mother.

My eyes flew back to Zel, trailing after us with a fierce glare in her green gaze. Feelings I’d kept locked away shattered through my walls, swelling in my chest, recognising that whatever bond existed between us wasn’t something I could ever give up.

For the first time, I let myself acknowledge how deep my attraction for her went, how badly my body ached to join with hers in lingering lovemaking and not abusive fucking. I wanted her to be my first—my first real connection.

I want her to touch me.

The realization knocked me on my ass. I made a vow right then and there to fix myself. To stand up and stop being a pussy. I wouldn’t stop until I was cured enough for Zel to touch every inch of me. I wouldn’t rest until I was strong enough to hug her and hold her close.

I thirsted to make the dream a reality.

My cock hardened at the thought of her mouth on me again, of her fingers trailing over my skin. I wanted to give her everything that I was—including my scars and tattoos. I wanted her to understand me, so she didn’t have to fear me anymore.

Opening the door, Clara dashed forward. “Wow!” Her bright cherub voice rung around the foyer.

My heart lurched in a mixture of torture and adoration. One thing was for sure: Clara would be my annihilation. She already held the fuse to destroy me completely.

And I didn’t care if she did. I would rather be destroyed by her than live the rest of my life struggling. Clara was my wakeup call. I couldn’t continue living as I had—it wasn’t a life. I wanted more. I wanted her. I wanted Zel.

I was never letting her go.

She was mine.

Her mother was mine.

Mine. Mine. Fucking mine.

Clara danced through my house, her tiny fingers stroking every statue I’d ever made. Just like her mother—she had to touch.

She wrapped stick thin arms around toddler sized bears; she shoved tiny fists into howling wolves’ mouths. She patted owls on their heads, and kissed the tops of ponies’ withers.

Her eyes swam with wonderment, and I wanted to give her everything.

I didn’t care that she ruled me. I didn’t care how crazy and unstable I came across being so obsessed by a child I had just met. No one would be able to understand the sheer freedom I felt after twenty-two years of living in the dark.

Clara was a walking sun, and I would trail after her through unlimited sunrises and sunsets.

My heart erupted into pieces, shattering with hope. Before I could stop myself, I murmured, “They’re all yours. Every last one.”

Zel froze beside me. “What?” Her eyes locked on mine. Amazement flickered, followed by annoyance, confusion. “You can’t. We have nowhere to store them.” She dropped her gaze, her shoulders rising and falling as her breathing accelerated. I didn’t blame her for being freaked out—for being on high alert, watching my every move. She had no reason to trust me and no idea what I’d been through to understand I would put a gun in my mouth and swallow a bullet before I ever hurt Clara.

I won’t obey. Vasily was the last child I would ever hurt.

Zel straightened her back, keeping her face closed off. “That’s very generous of you, but we can’t take them.”

Clara skidded to a halt in front of me, barely stopping before crashing into my legs. “I love them. Love. Love. Love.”

My face and ears still burned from when she hugged my head. When her arms captured my face outside, my gut heaved and brain exploded. I very nearly vomited on the driveway fighting the conditioning. Images bombarded me of death and dismemberment. I’d been petrified to open my eyes just in case I found her torn to fucking pieces on the ground.

But I’d managed to push her away.

I’d held steadfast.

I’d survived, and she’d lived.

I gritted my teeth knowing I’d have to guard myself every time she came near. I’d never been around someone who touched so effortlessly.

“Thank Mr. Obsidian for the offer, Clara, but you know we don’t have room.” Zel placed a hand on Clara’s head, running her fingers through her tangled brown hair.

Clara pouted, looking at me then Zel. “But…I love them. I want them all in my room.” Her beautiful brown eyes skipped between us, bright with frustration. “They’re all alive inside. They need a home. They need someone to love them and stroke them and feed them—” A loud whooping cough interrupted her, causing her to slap a hand over her mouth and whirl to face Zel.

Zel’s body went rigid. She ducked to grab Clara’s shoulders. The terror swimming in Zel’s eyes broke my fucking heart. It was just a cough…wasn’t it?

“Breathe. That’s it. Do you need—”

The coughing stopped as suddenly as it began, and Clara shook her head. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stomped her little foot. “I hate coughing. It hurts.”

Zel gathered her close, hugging her. “I know. We’ll find a way to make it stop. Soon.”

I loved watching the two of them together—such a natural love. A family bond I’d lost forever. A small bolt of jealousy filled me. My body ached to take Clara’s place—to enjoy the comfort and safety of someone’s embrace.

“Do you suffer from hay fever, Clara?” I asked, drawing Zel’s attention to me. Her eyes were shut down and unreadable, protecting her damn secrets.

The brightness in Clara had faded a little, but slowly the flame came back. She shook her head. “I don’t know what that is? Is it a sickness that horses catch from hay?”

Zel let out a huge sigh, then chuckled. “No, but it makes more sense. Hay fever is when you’re allergic to pollens and other irritants in the air.”

I expected Clara to ask a hundred questions, but her eyes turned solemn and she nodded. “Okay.”

Turning to me, she announced, “I’m allergic to air.”

Zel made a small choking sound, and I couldn’t explain why my stomach decided to wrestle with my heart in such a painful tango. “You’re allergic to air?”

She moved forward to a statue of a badger, her breathing slightly wheezy. “I must be because I cough a lot and I only breathe in air and not pol—pollams.”

Zel’s arms wrapped tight around herself, her eyes locking on her daughter.

Something wasn’t right.

My hunter instincts tried to uncover her secrets, but she suddenly unlatched her arms and clapped her hands. “Would you give Clara one of your statues?” She raised her voice to where Clara had drifted to. “How about you pick one? We have room for an extra houseguest.”

Clara perked up and beamed. “Okay.” Spinning on the spot, her smile fell. “But there’s so many. How do I choose?”

I couldn’t stand the pinpricks of pain for making her choose. I wouldn’t do it—not when I wanted her to keep every damn thing in my house. They meant nothing to me. If I could share them and earn a smile or two in return—that made me richer than my entire family’s fortune.

Taking a step closer to Zel, I murmured, “They’re all hers. Every single one.”

Zel stiffened and I wanted nothing more than to touch her—to offer some level of comfort. Something weighed her down and I wanted to give support—even if she didn’t confide in me.

Touching her cheek, I waited for the onslaught of conditioning. I was prepared for the pain and orders, but instead of being excruciating, it only pulsed and throbbed.

It’s bearable.

My eyes widened. Was that the key? To push myself to the end of my endurance—constantly pressing through the pain until my brain either adapted or snapped?

“Why are you doing this?” Zel whispered, so Clara wouldn’t hear. “Why do you care? You hurt me again, Fox. You have to understand how difficult this is for me. I never wanted you to meet her.”