Fatal Conclusions (Book 3, the Fatal Trilogy Series)

Chapter 2.

Three long weeks.

Three weeks of being left to feel nothing but my loss.

Haunted.

I'm completely haunted.

Sometimes I feel him at night.

Lying on the cold hard cement floor of this tiny cell-like room sometimes I feel his hands brushing over my cheek. I hear him whisper he loves me against my ear as he trails kisses down my neck.

Sometimes I just feel him watching me.

This electricity that used to buzz beneath my skin letting me know that he was near and watching me.

I loved it when he'd watch me.

I loved being what he loved.

"Don't forget me," he had told me just before he turned away from me.

Sometimes when I wake from my nightmares, shaking and cold I hear that sentence whispered in the darkness.

Don't forget me.

"I'm not, Daimon," I whisper to him. "I never will."

The truth is that people can take a lot of things from you. Things you'd never believe could be anything but yours. But there are still some things that no one can take from you. And my love for Daimon and my memories of the man he was and the way he loved me are things no one can take.

They are mine.

"And so are you," I whisper to myself, my fingers trailing across my lower abdomen.

Sometimes I imagine I'm still there.

I'm in Daimon's bed at the Krossway and Daimon is lying across the bed with me, his head propped up by his arms and he whispers sweet nothings over my belly to his child inside. I imagine the way it would feel to have his hand there, loving this baby as much as I do.

My imagination can only do so much though and when I open my eyes it doesn't stop or change the fact that this is where I am.

Where I'll be.

Where we will be.

Three weeks is a long ass time to be locked in a room by yourself with nothing to take your mind off of your pain. Which, I can only assume, is the point.

Pablo wants me to see my choices.

I can be here like this, or I can do things his way.

I don't know yet what his way is exactly, but for three weeks I've fought finding out.

We clearly both came into this with preconceived notions about each other. I believed him to be a disgusting power hungry little bitch of a man, which was a correct assumption, and he'd obviously thought I'd be a meek sweet little scared thing, which was wrong.

At least not for him.

He's tried to degrade me.

He's tried to lower me.

He's tried, but he's failed.

He made a big mistake the first day we met too. I'd gotten too mouthy too quick, and he'd let it be known that he didn't even go to the fight with Daimon's pack. He showed me upfront what a coward he was and no matter how badly he wanted me to, I wouldn't fear him. I couldn't.

"You've got to be tougher than that," I'd told him, losing control of my mouth again on the first night he'd come to "visit" with me.

I'd earned myself a bloody nose, but he hadn't taken any power from me. He was desperate to, but was too weak to figure it out.