Cyra scowled, her wary frown jabbing daggers into his chest.
Time was running out, so he said, “I’ll do what I’ve been trained to do. You focus on your specialty.”
She didn’t respond, just studied him with glossy eyes, and the sight of her fear sent a shiver down his spine. But standing there only weakened his resolve, and he needed his head straight. No distractions. Nothing but a blinding rage to get revenge for Cherri-Anne’s death and for every other innocent who’d lost the fight. But the longer he stayed near Cyra, the quicker he’d give in to her.
When he pulled away, she said, “You’re not broken, you know?” Icy hostility sailed across her face.
“What would you know?” he asked, a grunt rolling through his chest. This was why he never told anyone the truth, because they’d try to psychoanalyze him, and he didn’t need anyone inside his head.
“Chase once told me the death of Cherri-Anne broke you, and now you’re like an empty shell who goes through life. But he’s wrong.”
Her words carried a scorpion’s sting, as if no matter how hard he railed against them, she wouldn’t change her mind. Everyone thought they understood his past, saying to give the hurt time, to go see another therapist, but they were all fucking mistaken. He had lost part of himself two years ago and kicking demon butt was the only thing that got him out of bed.
“You should listen to your brother.” He turned away, not prepared to deal with this now, or ever. Pretending something else was possible between them was a foolish dream. He’d always carry the self-hatred and guilt for what he’d done to Cherri-Anne, and no one could unshackle the cold hard truth from him.
Cyra seized his wrist and pulled him closer. “You’re such a stubborn ass, saying you don’t deserve a good life because a demon took your girlfriend. Get over yourself. You did what any smart hunter would have done. You sacrificed one person for the greater good, for the majority. That doesn’t make you broken.”
“Fuck that!” He retreated, breaking their hold. “You try living with that mistake and tell me you’re all rainbows and unicorns. This shit is real. This industry fucks you up and then spits you out half the person you were. If you were smart, you’d leave Argos, forget demons and witchcraft. And me. Enjoy a normal, simple life.” His words came out cold as they sliced through the air. The admiration and attraction he had for Cyra remained, but his feelings distorted into thorns, reminding him of his failure and how he deserved to suffer.
Her shoulders lifted. She stepped closer and punched him in the arm. “Stop being a pussy. Open your eyes to what’s right in front of you. Take what belongs to you. Don’t use excuses to hide from the world.”
She trembled, distain twisting her lips. The same fire scorched his brain. He had to remember he had nothing in the world to take or offer. He wasn’t blind; he knew Cyra referred to herself, but so what? He wondered when he’d let her down and end up sacrificing her for the so-called greater good. He fucking hated the greater good.
Fury boiled through his veins, churning within, and the pressure allowed darkness to swallow him whole. He’d promised himself that after he’d lost Cherri-Anne, he’d never endanger another. No relationships. No feelings. That promise was his safety belt in life.
“We can’t be together. Don’t you get that?” he blurted out, and at once he wanted to retract his anger.
Staring at Cyra’s glistening eyes, his strength wavered. She’d gotten under his skin like no one before, not even Cherri-Anne. But he didn’t deserve Cyra. The error was on his part for letting himself go there with her, giving her false hope, believing she belonged to him. This was the goddamn reason he’d kept his distance. She’d infiltrated his thoughts and penetrated his heart.
“Listen,” he began.
But she swung another fist, for his face this time, crying out, “I hate you.”
He snatched her wrist midair and pushed her up against the door, pressing up against her, holding her arms by her side. Their rushed breaths merged, and he stared deep into her eyes. Terror and despair swirled behind them, and a single tear collecting at the corner of her eye rolled down her cheek.
“Let me go,” she cried.
His insides shattered like glass, ripping him to shreds. Before him was a girl who’d given herself to him, who’d demanded his attention, who carried so much love she melted through his barriers. No one had done that before. Not a fucking soul. Except Cyra with her caring nature, her spunk, her passion. He adored everything about her, but he should have stopped himself from getting close. He never should have agreed to keep an eye on her.
“Your brother’s right. I am broken,” he stated, his voice deep and sharp. “And no glue in the world can put me together again.” Without hesitation, he pulled back from her warmth and walked away before he crumbled. He loathed every inch of what he’d become, the scum who teased Cyra, took her innocence, and now left her. Regret and guilt chewed on his sanity, but he could live with the self-hatred consuming him if it meant keeping her alive. And maybe throwing himself at a Legion was exactly what he deserved.
Chapter 13
Cyra
The edges of Cyra’s mind frayed, and her vision blurred with tears. Exhaustion buffeted her with the constant fear of being attacked by something else in the house. But battling her emotions for Gunn was taking its toll, too. “Bastard,” she mumbled to herself, but she couldn’t hate him. Not when his behavior came from losing someone close to him and blaming himself. God, if she had to choose between her brother or hundreds of people dying, she’d be a basket case. So she got
