Ruthless Knights (The Dark Elite 2)

I wish it could be like that for me too.

There’s a gaping hole in my heart that’s been there for years, and over the past few weeks, it’s been feeling more and more empty. I crave the same sense of family that Zaid and Lucas found here with Hale and Ciro.

But is that even possible?

Could there truly be a place for me in this world? A place where I’m not a captive, but something more?

12

Ciro

The basement is cool and quiet.

Calm.

Everything is arranged the way it always is, but I still check over the rows of guns, weapons, and various torture mechanisms to make sure it’s all in place. Every item accessible for the next time I need it. I usually come down here once a week to clean and make sure everything’s organized, but this is the third night in a row I’ve slipped downstairs into what Zaid once jokingly called my lair.

The routine of maintaining my equipment is muscle memory now, and I’m only half conscious as I look over the items, lost in my thoughts.

Grace.

I haven’t been able to let her go, haven’t been able to shut her out or forget what happened between us.

After years of closing myself off and pushing things aside, this should be simple, but it’s not. It’s haunting me. It’s like I’m torturing myself down here, not some enemy soldier. I keep forcing myself to relive the entirety of that night over and over again—not just the good part, but the fucking awful part. I can never forget the consequences of my actions. The consequences of letting go.

I look down at my hands, scarred and rough, imagining them wrapped around her throat, choking the life out of her. I could have killed her. I almost killed her. If Hale hadn’t come in when he did, if he hadn’t heard Grace’s strangled cry by pure fucking luck…

Hale knows to shoot me if it happens again.

Not that it ever will happen again, because I’m never going to put myself and Grace in a situation where it could happen again. But to know there’s a contingency plan lined up eases a little of the guilt in me, makes me feel better about being around her. I tried to avoid her for a few days, because every time I looked at the bruises on her neck, I thought about coming down here and eating a bullet.

But I don’t want to let my demons win like that.

I won’t abandon Hale or the others.

I’ll have to face Grace eventually. I know I can’t avoid her for the rest of her stay here.

I’ve already forgotten the dream, the night terror. I forgot it the moment Hale dragged me back to consciousness. I’ll never know what scared me so fucking much that I did what I did, but I do know the way it felt to realize what I had done. To have no memory of why, to feel like there was a monster living inside me, possessing me to do that. I know what it feels like to not feel like your body is your own, and I hate it.

I hate it so fucking much.

Grabbing one of the guns on the table, I pick it up and fire three shots into the bare cement wall.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

They all hit in the exact same spot, my aim perfectly accurate. That’s what I’m good at. I’m good at breaking shit. At wrecking shit.

I can kill.

I can torture brutally and efficiently.

But I was kidding myself if I thought I could touch something beautiful without breaking it.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I pick up the next gun, a smaller one, and repeat the action, tilting my head to the side slightly as I focus on the shot.

Crack.

Her face haunts me.