Chapter 27 Quite The Performance
ZADE
My lips curled at those words that were meant to tear me apart very slowly. But he seemed to have forgotten that I didn't give a fuck about anyone's opinion.
I pressed both palms flat to the floor, blood smearing in dark streaks beneath my fingers, and forced every scrap of will into the mental wall between us.
Then I answered.
'Listen carefully, you rotten piece of shit,' I spat. 'Try again some other time, okay? You really should work on your villain monologue. You nearly bored me to death.'
A low, vicious laugh rolled out of me, ragged from the coughing.
'I let you think you broke me so I could learn every weak place in your rotting soul and break free. Did you forget that already?”
I pushed harder against the intrusion, feeling the phantom brand on my back sting white-hot.
'So take your little warning and choke on it. Because the second I get my hands on you again, I'm not going to just kill you. I'm going to resurrect you over and over, piece by screaming piece, until even your own echoes beg for death.'
The connection snapped right then, leaving only a blessed, ringing silence.
I stayed curled on the floor a moment longer, letting the pain settle into something manageable. Blood had pooled under my cheek, metallic on my tongue.
I stared at the crimson smear on the floor for a while. Then I smirked.
If Indie was so determined to kiss Enid's ass, then fine. I'd make sure she never left my sight today.
I dragged in a breath, concentrated, and forced my temperature up. It wasn't enough to burn, but it was just enough to make sweat bead on my forehead.
I smeared more blood across my jaw with the back of my hand, letting a fresh trickle drip from the corner of my mouth. Exactly what would rip her heart out of her chest and drag her running.
I reached through the bond with feigned panic.
'Indie.'
'Zade? What's wrong? Are you okay?'
I made it seem as though I was fighting to breathe.
'Bunny... don't panic, okay? Don't let Lila see. Just... come to the study. Please. I need you.'
I knew it was more than enough to make her drop whatever she was holding and run.
I curled tighter on my side, one arm wrapped around my ribs, the other stretched out towards the door like I'd tried to crawl and failed. Blood stained the floor in a perfect arc behind me. My breathing came shallow and ragged. It was quite the performance.
The door flew open less than thirty seconds later.
Indie stood frozen in the threshold, her eyes wide. Her face drained of colour as she took in the scene.
"Zade—"
Her voice cracked.
She was across the room in quick strides, dropping to her knees beside me, her hands shaking as they hovered over my face and my chest, not sure where to touch first.
"What happened? Oh gods—Zade, talk to me—"
I caught her wrist gently, guiding her palm to the side of my jaw so she could feel the heat pouring off me.
"D-don't panic," I rasped, letting my voice tremble just enough. "Everything hurts so bad."
Her eyes welled up with tears as she searched my face.
"I'm not leaving you like this," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
I let my head fall heavier against her thigh, closing my eyes as if the effort was too much.
'Good girl. Now stay.'
A few minutes later, I was in the bathroom with Indie.
The bathroom smelled like lavender soap and steam, the air thick from the fresh hot water Indie had run while I leaned against the doorframe pretending I could still stand without the wall's help.
She'd dragged me here earlier. She didn't even let me argue. She just hooked her arm under mine and half-carried me down the hall like I was a wounded pup.
Now the tub was filling behind her. Indie knelt on the tile, her sleeves rolled up, scrubbing at the drying stains on my forearm with a damp cloth.
Her hands were shaking.
I hated that.
I also fucking loved it.
Because the plan—my brilliant, manipulative, blood-soaked plan—had backfired spectacularly.
She hadn't fainted or cried. Or even promised not to go to the ceremony tonight.
Instead, she'd looked at the mess on the floor, at the fever-glazed sheen on my skin, at the way I'd curled like I was broken on the inside... and decided that the solution was a bath.
A bath.
To "get rid of all the blood before Lila sees."
And now here we were.
I was swaying slightly, my temperature jacked high enough that sweat dripping into my eyes even though I was freezing my ass off.
Meanwhile, she was determined, heartbreakingly beautiful, and completely oblivious to how close I'd come to chaining her to the bedpost instead.
She wrung the cloth out, pink water swirling down the drain.
"Strip," she said without looking up. There was no room for negotiation.
I raised one brow.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." She finally met my eyes. "You're covered in blood. It's in your hair, under your nails, soaked through your shirt. You're getting in this tub, Zade. Right now."
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at my mouth.
She wanted me naked.
In front of her. Under the bright bathroom light.
Which meant she was finally going to see it. All of it.
The scars Varak left.
Not just the ones on my arms, my back, and my ribs.
The ones lower.
The thick, ridged lines wrapped the base of my cock and trailed down the inside of my thighs as if someone had tried to carve ownership into my flesh and gotten sloppy about it. It was proof that for five years I'd been nothing but meat and a personal whore to him.
I hadn't necessarily kept them hidden from her.
But tonight, she was demanding it.
And part of me—the vicious, possessive, rotting part—wanted her to see how messed up I was.
I pushed off the doorframe, ignoring the way my knees protested.
"Alright, Bunny," I said. "If that's what you want."
Her breath hitched. How cute.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the sweatpants. Then I paused.
"Don't panic," I told her gently.
She gulped. "I'm not panicking."
"Sure."
I shoved the fabric down and stepped out.
The scars were impossible to miss now. I didn't bother covering myself.
I just stood there, fever-hot, blood-stained, and half-hard from the simple fact that she was looking.
Her gaze dropped, and she froze. Then she lifted her eyes back to me. There were fresh tears in her eyes. But they weren't from pity. No. It was anger. The kind that made my heart race in excitement.
She rose to her feet and stepped right into my space, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her fingers hovered over the worst of the scars but didn't quite touch.
"Who did this?" she whispered.
I caught her wrist before she could pull away. Then I held her palm flat against the damaged skin, feeling her tremble.
"It doesn't matter anymore," I said.
"It matters to me," she croaked.
I leaned down until our foreheads touched.
"Then ask me later," I murmured. "When I'm not bleeding on the bathroom floor."
A shaky laugh slipped out of her.
"You're impossible."
"Still yours."
She closed her eyes, her lashes wet.
"Get in the damn tub, Zade."
I smirked against her temple.
"Yes, ma'am."
I stepped over the rim, sank into the steaming water, letting the heat swallow the chill that had been gnawing at my bones.
She didn't look away. Not even once.
And when she knelt beside the tub again, with the cloth in her hand, she resumed washing the blood off my body.
“Thank you, Indie,” I whispered. “For not being disgusted.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
Indie's hand paused mid-scrub, the wet cloth dripping pink-tinted water onto my thigh.
She didn't look up right away.
"Varak," she uttered in the softest voice.
I let my head tip back against the tub's rim, steam curling around us. The heat of the water was doing its job. The fever I'd forced was finally easing, leaving only the dull, familiar burn.
I sighed tiredly.
"What did he tell you?"
She set the cloth down on the edge of the tub.
"You don't seem to be bothered."
I snorted, the sound hoarse and humourless.
"Answer the question, Bunny."
She straightened, water sloshing softly as she shifted closer to the tub's side. Her knees pressed against the porcelain, her hands braced on the rim. She looked younger like this.
"Who is Varak to you?" she asked. “Your lover?"
For one long second I just stared at her.
Then the laugh tore out of me.
It started low in my chest, then it built until my shoulders shook with it. The sound bounced off the tiles, harshly. I laughed until my ribs screamed in protest, even until fresh tears stung the corners of my eyes from the force of it.
Indie didn't move. She just watched me like I'd lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
When the laughter finally died down to ragged breaths, I dragged a wet hand over my face, pushing my hair back.
"My lover," I echoed, amused. "That's what he told you?"