Page 122 of My Dark Divine
Still, that doesn’t make the situation any less terrifying. Lucas is a deranged psychopath, and who knows what dark thoughts are festering in his mind right now? A narcissist like him doesn’t forget humiliation easily—he’s already plotting his next move.
A wave of worry blossoms in my chest. My mind shifts away from my concerns and focuses entirely on West and the dangers looming over him. With our wedding just days away and Lucas’s campaign gaining momentum, more supporters are flocking to his side. Once his goals are met and we complete the main task he’s given us, there’s no doubt he’ll do whatever it takes to make our lives hell. Blinded by power and consumed by the need for revenge for our disobedience, he’ll show no mercy.
These unsettling thoughts linger, but I choose not to dwell on them. What I truly long for is a moment of peace, away from the constant mental strain of strategizing to outplay this shark. Instead, my attention shifts to the man beside me. He helped me escape the hell I was trapped in, yet he has never glimpsed even the smallest spark of hope.
Though we are survivors with scars, jagged edges, and countless flaws, we see perfection in each other. I’ve found peace in his insanity, just as he has in mine.
When he finishes sharing his story, silence falls between us. His eyes are cast down, and his expression is a mask of indifference. But I know better—beneath this mask, rawemotions struggle to surface, yearning for acknowledgment, for acceptance, for a love that sees him as he truly is.
He shifts uneasily, his tense posture a silent plea for solace. I reach for him, not with a demand but with a gentle offering. My hands cradle his face, drawing him closer, and my gaze, soft and understanding, urges him to meet my eyes.
“Look at me,” I whisper gently, running my thumbs across his cheeks. He folds into my touch like a snowflake melting in warm hands, though he’s still reluctant to meet my gaze. “You deserve better, West.”
“That’s fine,” he says, attempting to pull away from me, but I tighten my grip, holding him steady. “You don’t need to pity me, Netia. But I appreciate your concern.”
“I’m not pitying you,” I protest. He tries to retreat into his thick, bulletproof cocoon, unaware that I would never exploit his vulnerabilities against him again. “I’m telling the truth. You were just a child?—”
“So were you,” he interrupts, wrapping his hands around my wrists. “I can’t stop thinking about that. And to be honest, I want to kill your father.”
I let out a chuckle, surprised by how misplaced it feels in response to his words, though I don’t feel guilty. I know he won’t judge me for it. “After what you’ve told me, I want to kill your father, too. Does that make us a bad couple?”
The corners of his lips twitch, forming a small smile. “It makes us a perfect couple, baby girl.”
We both laugh, our foreheads meeting softly, a silent spark of connection between us. The silence that follows is a gentle canvas upon which I paint a truth. “You’re not a monster, West. You’re my hero, remember?”
He lets out a shaky breath, and I can feel the tension in every fiber of his being easing with each passing second. He looks at me, a hint of awe in his eyes. “How,” he begins, his voice barelyabove a whisper, “did you manage to strip away my defenses so effortlessly?”
“You’ve chipped away at my deepest fears, letting them spill into the light. I want to do the same for you.”
The world shifts, a kaleidoscope of possibilities unfolding before us. We are no longer prisoners but creators, our arms entwined—a symbol of the reality we will build together, brick by brick.
A reality where neither of us will feel judged, scared, or alone.
When you have immense wealth, power, and connections, preparing for a major event becomes effortless. In our case, we don’t even need to lift a finger—our parents have planned it all for us. The decorations, the endless guest list—half of whom West and I don’t even know—and every detail of the wedding have been handled without our involvement.
On one hand, it spares us the headache and stress, but on the other, it’s unsettling to have no say in our wedding. If we had our way, we wouldn’t be celebrating anything at all.
We don’t need to advertise what we feel.
The tradition feels cliché and tedious to us. In a way, I’m relieved to let it happen behind the scenes; it saves us bothtime and nerves. But I can’t fully relax. My mind keeps circling back to Lucas, his threat, and the inevitable confrontation. If this weren’t a high-profile event, he probably wouldn’t bother showing up. But with dozens of cameras, interviewers, and the eyes of everyone who matters, I know he’ll be there, with that smug, fake smile on his face.
And I’ll have to resist every urge to wipe it off.
It unsettles me as much as it irritates me. West went to the office today to wrap up some loose ends, and though I have work to do as well, I couldn’t bring myself to join him. Paranoia claws at my mind, urging me to devise a plan or strategy—anything that might help us emerge unscathed. The wedding tomorrow feels like a final act, but beyond that, everything blurs. For someone who prides herself on planning, I feel unmoored and utterly useless.
I’m scared for West. I don’t want him to hurt anymore.
The sudden ring of my phone snaps me out of my thoughts. I reach for it, feeling a twinge of disappointment when I see it’s not West. He’s the only one I can bear to talk to right now. Instead of his name, an unknown number lights up the screen. I dismiss it without much thought.
Not even a second passes before it rings again, and I raise my brows, surprised by the persistence. I press the green button and bring the phone to my ear with a clipped, “Yes?” making no effort to hide the irritation in my voice.
“Venetia, can you talk right now?” a male voice asks—familiar yet distant. “Are you with West?”
I narrow my eyes, caught off guard by the urgency in his tone and the question he asks. “Who is this?”
A long pause follows, so heavy that I consider ending the call. But then, his raspy voice finally cuts through. “It’s Eli.”
Confusion slams into me, and my eyes widen in surprise. “Uh… Eli? What do you want?” I don’t care if I sound harsh;he’s the one calling out of the blue, interrupting my day like he’s entitled to my time after vanishing and sending me those lousy flowers.
