ravaged hearts

CHAPTER SIXTEEN,

RAVAGED HEARTS | CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  IT WASN'T MUCH, but they were standing in his apartment alone and she hadn't killed him yet. That was what he called progress. Maybe there was a chance. They'd never be those children again, who understood each other without a single word—both of them had changed far too much for that, matured, grew up—but they could still be acquaintances. Friends. Still have each other in their lives.

  His eyes flickered to her figure crouched over the book he'd laid on the table. The pages he'd flipped to. He should be paying attention too, but he wasn't. His concentration was thoroughly captured by her, this miracle girl who somehow stood in front of him.

  He wondered if this was what she felt when she used to look at him. And he wished he hadn't squandered what he'd gotten, what he'd taken for granted all those years ago.

  How much would have changed if he'd noticed then? And accepted them?

  They might be living a good life right now. Somewhere peaceful, away from all this chaos and blood and political intrigue. They'd be fighting for themselves, wielding blades for themselves instead of the countries that bore and raised them.

  He clamped down the regret that rushed up.

   Yo fui quien la lastimó, quien la hizo así. I was the one who hurt her, who made her like this.

  But it wasn't all him either.  They had both been at fault. And they'd been born into the wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong environment. Second chances were rare but he was being given one now and he would not waste it again.

  He'd let the Enrique Zevallos twins handle the finer details of the mission and the trip they'd most likely have to go on. Those two could handle that. They were inexperienced and showing themselves as far too impulsive—both of which he'd talk to his superiors about—but they were more than capable of dealing with transport arrangements.

  Meanwhile, he'd find a way to win her back. Or at least gain a sliver of her forgiveness. He didn't have very high expectations, it was easier to not be disappointed that way.

  He suddenly asked, "What would you do when you meet your father?"

  Io stilled, her movement going into a halt. Warily, she said, "I don't know."

  "What do you think you'll do?"

  "I won't let my personal sentiments interfere with the mission," she said curtly. "You don't need to worry about that." She marked something down on the book, pursing her lips, deep in thought. He caught himself staring before blinking and turning away.

  "I didn't mean that," he told her. "I meant... what will you do to him once the mission is over?"

  "Take him into custody."

  "Would you really?" Io had always been someone who sought after revenge. He'd realised this a long time ago even when he was young. Her favourite thing to say back then had been a Saian proverb: yi ya huan ya. A tooth for a tooth. It was the way she'd survived her early years. No debt went unpaid. She always took back what she was owed.

  He killed her mother. There was no way Io would accept him being arrested as an acceptable result. Knowing her, she'd stop at nothing but execution. It wasn't as if it was the first time she got blood on her hands.

Io faltered now. She squeezed her eyes shut, putting down the writing instrument in her  hand on the desk. "You're right. I won't be satisfied with that."

  "You'll kill him."

  She tilted her head. "If given the chance, and we have everything we want and need from him... yes. It's not out of the question. And I think it'll be quite fair." Her dark eyes met his, questioning, taunting. "Would you stop me?"