Her Shadows

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

AMELIA POV

"Why do I always have to play lackey and you're always the one with the gun!"

"Aww jealous my kill streaks higher than yours Aaron? I'm so sorry you're deprived of spilling blood, you morbid freak!"

"Oh, don't act like you don't like it! Like getting to be the one to finish the kill isn't the ego boost you crave!" His steps slam against the stairs as we race toward the manor.

I shove the doors open so forcefully they dent the walls inside, "Ego?! What would ego have to do with it!"

Aaron's gorgeous face contorts into dreadfully as rage overcomes his features, "Eugene always favours the one who finishes the job and you fucking know it! Never mind my involvement, it will be another notch on YOUR belt."

I dig my nails into my palms and place myself chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, with this egotistical prick and spit, "Careful Aaron, your jealousy is showing."

A frustrated growl, and I can practically see the venom drip from his gritted teeth as he readies to lash at me. But then we hear the approaching footsteps and Eugene's presence places our battle on pause.

As we turn to him, he gestures with boredom to me. I unstrap the shotgun from my shoulder and hand it to him, which he then passes to a nearby servant for cleaning.

He takes a step closer to us, his eyes skipping over Aaron dismissively before reaching a hand up to rake through my hair, which now spills over my shoulders.

A gentle, intimate and completely inappropriate caress but Eugene was never one for boundaries.

I stand stoic still as he inspects my body and smooths my hair, concealing my shudders of disgust behind a painted face of serenity and emptiness.

Eugene then rests his hand on the nape of my neck, offering a predatory grin.

"Wonderful work darling, as usual."

As though I were his child and had just learnt how to ride a bike without his assistance. As though a kill were an earnest enough achievement, worthy of admiration.

With those words, he dismisses us and without a second glance to Aaron's reddened face of anger, I walk to my room.

My head remains high and murder glints in my irises every moment until I reach my destination. 

Pure violence and grace that makes every servant shield their eyes and scurry past.

Only when the door clicks shut, do I allow my knees to shake.

I walk silently to my closet, not for a single second allowing the lid on my bottle of emotions to loosen. I pull out a bronze chest with gold lining and lift the cover.

I gaze at the mass of much too many paper fragments before grabbing a notepad and pen. I do not miss the slight shake of my hands as I write two fateful words on that slip, fold it and place it in the box.

Meredith Grace

I slide the box back into its alcove and allow my knees to give out as I collapse in the floor.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate on my increasingly rapid breath.

In for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4In for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4In for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4

I feel the creeping tidal wave of tears begin to pool and tip my head back, desperately blinking the tears out of existence as I continue to breathe and breathe.

My fingernails dig into my palms, pulling me back to Earth.

I faintly hear my phone chime and glance at the screen with dry cheeks.

J: Hey Sunshine, how was ur day?

I feel that unfamiliar flutter in my chest as it sweeps through and chases away the feelings of grief. That flutter is becoming much too common when Jayce is involved.

I feel myself smile, feeling safe to reveal that piece of myself in the isolation of my room.

A: Uneventful, wbu?

J: About the same. I drew something for you today

A: Really? Care to share?

J: *Image attached*

There I stand, in a dress of shimmering Emerald, the atmosphere of that restaurant we had visited only a few nights before in the background. I can't rip my eyes from the screen. I'm taken aback by the beauty of the photo and not just the actual beauty of the image but of the detectable flicks of pen and paint that form a sort of glow around my form. Almost angelic with the whispers of white and yellow. A halo.

I wonder if this is how Jayce sees me – as an angel.

That night I fish his sweater from its hidden place at the back of my wardrobe and drape myself in its warmth. I fall asleep with a smile on my face to the thoughts of Jayce and the image of an angel wrapped in starlight. A promise of what could've been if I weren't me. If I were just a girl and he were just a boy.

The evilness of the day fades away in my dreamscape as I think of the strange boy with so much light in his eyes. The boy who could somehow see the light in mine too.

It is that night that I make myself a promise. With the plan going down, and the Auction near approaching, I will ensure his protection. For whatever reason and at whatever cost, Jayce WILL be leaving alive.

If only he knew that I was not angelic, I was not good, and I had no light left within my soul. I wasn't the sunshine he called me.

I was the devil.

But it felt good to pretend, even for a night.

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WOW Jayce is perfect, isn't he?!

get ready, next chapter things get even more personal!

Happy reading!