Page 126 of My Dark Divine
Fuck. He wins again. I can feel my body hum with low, insistent energy, the throbbing between my legs growing harder to ignore with each passing second.
But we can’t do it here. Well, technically, we can, since neither of us has any morals left. We’re both so sick that this wouldn’t even be an exception.
Still, there’s something more pressing we need to discuss. I pull back, noting the disappointed sigh he lets out. Bitterness wells up inside me, but I force myself to remain still. “What do you think about the flash drive?” I ask.
The moment the question leaves my lips, his expression changes. He shrugs his broad shoulders as if the topic doesn’t interest him. “We’ll check what’s on it. No matter how clever he thought he was, I doubt he made any copies or had a backup plan before he came to meet you. The piece of shit was banking on you racing back into his arms.”
I chuckle at that, secretly hoping it’s true. “Because if he lied and someone else knows, we could be in big trouble,” I reply.
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me closer. “You shouldn’t fill your pretty head with thoughts like that. I won’t let anything happen to you. And if there’s something on the drive that could end my father’s life—” He trails off, unease flickering briefly across his face. His gaze shifts behind me, then back to my eyes, where a soft, loving glint appears. “I’ve been thinking about something ever since we got back.”
“Yeah?”
His other hand moves to cradle my face, and he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “We both have families that don’t give a shit about us. My mind keeps going back to the lengths my father went to ensure I wouldn’t let anyone into my heart, and honestly, I’m really worried about you, baby. I don’t trust him, and I know better than anyone how unpredictable he can be. So, what if we just… leave after the wedding?”
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Leave? Where?”
“Bahamas. Mexico. Sri Lanka. You choose.”
I swallow. “What about your grandma?”
He smiles, a hint of smugness in his eyes. “We could bring her along, and I can buy her a house either near us or farther away. But knowing how much she dislikes traveling, I imagine she’ll stay here. There are countless possibilities, baby, and we can make something work if you decide to go through with it.”
For a moment, my mind conjures an image of us on an island, completely free from our families, our jobs, and all our responsibilities. Just us, in our little paradise, hidden from the world.
But then I think about my rescue center. They’d manage without me checking in; I could send money remotely. But leaving would mean depriving myself of the one good thing I’ve managed to build amid the chaos. All those years of hard work would vanish, erased in an instant. The business I fought to improve, built with blood, sweat, and tears—everything would be left behind.
And if so, despite how deeply we’re consumed by each other, we still need to direct our energy into something meaningful. Delilah’s words keep replaying in my mind—a haunting melody I can’t escape, along with the story West shared. We spent years simmering in silent resentment, hiding our anger beneath the surface. Now, though, it feels like the time has come to let it allout. To free ourselves from the shackles our family has imposed. To rebuild our empire from the wreckage.
To rise, together.
“Leaving is the easiest option,” I say. “And it would leave them unpunished.”
A spark of something new ignites in his eyes. “Unpunished, huh?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, almost reverent tone, as if savoring both the word and the possibility. “You want to watch them burn, don’t you?”
“For everything your father did to you and for everything my own put me through, yes,” I admit. We spent years bound to lives we didn’t choose, and I won’t pretend I’m over it. My anger hasn’t gone away. “I want them to suffer. I want to serve justice, but on our own terms.”
I grip his hands, absorbing the warmth that radiates from his skin. I haven’t told him about my rescue center yet—I will, but only after we deal with the mess that’s been thrust upon us. I want to show him everything when our minds are clear, both of us free from all these burdens.
“I have something here,” I say quietly, moving my hands up and twirling the fabric of his shirt between my fingers. “Something I don’t want to leave behind. And I think I’ll soon be ready to show it to you.”
“Should I be scared?”
I roll my eyes playfully. “No. Or maybe. Depends on how you’ll take the situation.”
That damn perfect smile creeps back onto his features. “Whatever you say. Show me the rest of you, baby, and let’s set the fucking world ablaze.”
Inever intended to give my heart to anyone. But as I look at the woman standing before me, adorned in a flowing white silk dress and finishing off the cake we just cut moments ago, I find myself believing she has my fucking heart.
Irrevocably and unconditionally.
She’s eating the cake with her bare hands, her eyes fixed on her father, whom she’s been rebelling against for the past few hours. He’s powerless to act in public, and she’s been taking full advantage, saying whatever she wants and behaving as she pleases.
I’ve been right there with her, supporting her every step of the way. It’s been a sleepless night for both of us, poring over the flash drive Eli provided and dissecting every pieceof information it contained. For someone I once despised, the fucker managed to gather an impressive amount of evidence. There are photos, recordings, and copies of documents—enough to put my father and his accomplices behind bars. We’re planning to release it all, to strike before they have a chance to retaliate. And then, all our focus will be on coming back to life after a powerful blow to both of our companies.
But today, I’m pushing these thoughts aside. We’re surrounded by people buzzing around us like incessant flies, all fighting for our attention. The constant chatter from the dozens of guests feels like a persistent hum gnawing at my nerves. The only thing keeping me grounded is Venetia by my side. If it weren’t for her, I would have already snapped and stormed off—either to lash out at someone or to get high again.
She makes everything easier. The urge remains, pushing relentlessly against my skull, trying to tear through the fragile barrier of composure I’ve set up. After years of addiction, I know that keeping my sobriety won’t be a walk in the park.
