Chapter 70 Destroy the truth!
|| Author POV ||
Rosa peeked inside. And her eyes widened.
Old furniture. A dusty table. A mirror with a crack down the middle. The air smelled like wood and age. There were no chains, blood, or body. It was just an old unused room.
She stared frozen. Confused.
“See, there’s nothing here.” Killian said quietly. “You were dreaming, rabbit.”
Rosa blinked rapidly as if trying to clear something from her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths. “But it–it felt so real.” she whispered.
Rosa turned into him, burying her face against his torso. “Believe me. I feel like it was r-real.” she held him tightly like she needed something to hold onto, anything that made sense.
“I s-saw blood.” she murmured frantically. “And scary fingers... and your eyes were so cold. Y-you.. a blody sa-saw and-and–”
“I told you, your fever was high!” Killian interrupted. “You were out for two days. The mind plays cruel tricks when it’s weak, bunny.”
“But–” Rosa swallowed “It wasn’t just a dream. Trust m-me, please.” she whined, still unconvinced.
“It was!” Killian confirmed sternly this time.
Rosa silenced. She couldn’t remember what happened after he came toward her that night. Her mind was a haze. But the room was empty. Then it must be a nightmare, right?
Rosa felt herself unable to stand straight due to weakness.
Was it really just a fever? Two whole days?
Rosa’s fingers gently clutched at his shirt, trying to convince herself. But inside, something wouldn’t settle. A strange unease as she held him.
Killian felt her trembling against him. He didn’t say anything. He simply slipped his arms around her frame and lifted her gently. Rosa gasped softly, clutching his shirt. Her wide eyes scanned his face.
It didn’t make sense. How could he hurt someone like that? So brutally? Why would he?
She wanted to believe it was a nightmare. Because nothing else made sense.
Maybe she really had been sick. Maybe her fever blurred reality. Maybe that awful night in the alley, that corpse–it all just got to her head.
Yes. That must be it!
Rosa nestled her cheek against him, forcing herself to believe it.
Killian’s jaw twitched as he stared forward. Because now, she didn’t trust her own memory. And that meant she trusted him more.
Exactly how he wanted it.
·˚✎ ﹏
Rosa lay quietly on the bed. Her body felt so weak. Her head was still foggy and her throat dry. The soft knock on the door stirred her faintly.
“Come in.” Rosa whispered barely loud enough.
The door creaked open and Lilia stepped in. Her face etched with worry. She carried a warm glass of milk and walked to Rosa’s side.
“Are you alright, dear?” Lilia asked gently, placing the glass on the nightstand.
She sat beside Rosa and reached out, pressing her cool hand to Rosa’s forehead. A breath of relief slipped past her lips.
“Thank god, your fever is gone. Your fever was burning.” Lilia murmured.
“You should rest more.” she added, gently guiding the glass into her hands. “Drink this while it’s warm. It’ll help you regain your strength.”
Rosa forced a weak nod and took a small sip of the milk but her eyes trailed down at her lap.
Lilia left soon. Rosa took her phone, the date confirmed it. She really was unconscious for two whole days. Aria had called her a few times.
Rosa couldn’t understand why she’s feeling so weak. The fever was gone but still? She laid back. Her eyes darted around the room’s corner. Something wasn’t feeling right.
What if it wasn’t a nightmare?
She closed her eyes tight. A tear slipped down her temple. She didn’t want to doubt him. She loves him. No way it was even possible.
|| At Afternoon ||
Rosa woke up from a short nap. She hardly could sleep in fear. Sleep didn’t felt peaceful anymore. It was shallow and haunted. Every time she closed her eyes, she feared the nightmare would return. She needed to refresh her mind.
After washing up, Rosa weakly stepped out of her room. Her legs were still trembling from the weakness. The quiet mansion echoed with a strange stillness.
Rosa reached the garden with weak legs. She inhaled under the open blue sky. Her eyes weakly glanced around.
What’s this unease in her heart?
She knelt before the little patch where she had started growing her flowers. Tiny stems peeked out from the soil, green and alive.
Rosa reached out and touched one gently. Her fingers brushed the damp leaves. They were doing well. Healthy. Blooming. Unlike her.
“I watered you just a few days ago.” Rosalie whispered softly with a pout.
A faint breeze swept her hair across her cheek. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of fresh air filled her nose.
She quickly got up and tiptoed back inside the mansion.
Moments later, Rosa returned to the garden with a small watering can gripped tightly in both hands.
She knelt down again. Her knees pressed onto the cool earth and carefully she tilted the can. Water trickled gently, soaking the roots she’d been tending for days.
Once finished, Rosa sat back. Her eyes drifted upward toward the mansion, toward his window. There he was. Killian. Standing by the window with a phone to his ear. His gaze wasn’t on her.
Rosa dropped her eyes to the dirt. Her hand reached out, fiddling with a fallen leaf.
Why did it feel like this?
She looked back over her shoulder. The two guards stood at a distance. They were stoic as statues near the large gate.
Rosa approached them with hesitant steps, hands fidgeted nervously in front of her.
The guards straightened when Rosa came close. They immediately bowed their heads in quiet respect. Rosa offered a faint shake of her head, almost wanting to tell them not to do that but the words stuck in her throat.
Her voice was soft, cautious. “Um... can I ask something?”
The guard on the right gave a polite nod. “Of course, Ma'am.”
Rosa blinked with a gulp. “Two days ago.. did anyone come to the mansion? Late at night?”
The two men shared a brief glance. There was a silent tension between them. Then the one on the left answered evenly, “No one came in, Ma'am. The gates stays locked all night.”
Rosa blinked again.
The other nodded to confirm. “Everything was quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary ma'am.”
“Thank you.” Rosa gave a small nod and stepped back.
The guards remained still. Their eyes lowered again in respect as she turned away.
‘Maybe I’m overthinking.’ she told herself.
Rosa entered the mansion. The air inside was cooler than outside. Her feet moved on their own. Step by step, they dragged her toward that basement room. She wanted to confirm it again, to set her heart at peace.
It wasn’t locked.
She stopped in front of it, her hand hovered over the doorknob. Why did it feel like she’d stood here before?
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rosa slowly pushed the door open.
The room once again welcomed her with silence. Just an unused space. Dust coated the floor and a few old shelves leaned against the walls, sagging from age.
|| AT NIGHT ||
|| Salvatore Mansion ||
The clock ticked. Killian sat in his study. The silver pen was idle in his grasp. The documents before him blurred into irrelevance. His mind wasn’t here. A literal storm of negativities filled his mind.
His phone chimed and a sharp knock followed on the door.
He didn’t look up. “Enter.”
The door opened with a quiet creak. One of his trusted men stepped inside with a thick file and an old newspaper clutched in his hand.
“Boss.” the man uttered, approaching without hesitation. “The report you asked for. Full detail on the crash that happened thirteen years ago on Hillcross Highway. There’s an old newspaper too.”
Killian’s eyes flicked up. His expression didn’t change. “Put it down.” he said flatly.
The man obeyed and exited wordlessly. The heavy door shut behind him.
Killian stared at the file for a long second. Then, with deliberate calmness, he pulled it toward him.
His eyes roamed on the newspaper, carefully reading the article of the accident. He didn’t need to open the file. Killian scrunched his nose slightly. His eyes narrowed as he searched for the driver’s name, the root cause of everything.
Then suddenly–his hand froze. His jaw tightened into rigidity.
The name was boldly printed. A silence rang so loud inside him it deafened every thought. Veins popped out of his neck. The paper blurred momentarily as rage flooded his vision.
Killian leaned back in his chair slowly, fingers still gripped to the edge of the page like he wanted to tear it out.
A bitter laugh threatened to escape his throat, but it didn’t. Instead, he stared at the name again.
And again.
And all he could hear was her soft voice from the night before: ‘I don’t know who he is but-but I h-hate him. I hate him so much. I’ll n-never forgive him.’
He fisted the old newspaper. Not gently. But not violently either. A storm had settled in his chest now.
Killian groaned loudly and threw it across the room before frustratingly running a hand through his hair. His assumptions were right!
That’s why her mother looked familiar to him because he has read this before.
Killian cursed inside a thousand times.
First, she saw him killing, caught red-handed with blood on his skin and cruelty on his soul. He barely pulled it off. Manipulated her fragile mind. Drugged her soft little body into unconsciousness for two whole fucking days just to erase the scene, bleach the walls and to burn the truth.
She really did catch a high fever from the drug’s effects while he erased every trace of the crime. He made her question herself.
And now this?
This fucking truth?
Of all the sins Killian has committed, this one wasn’t even his. But it was his curse. His inheritance.
If those innocent eyes ever look at him with hatred, with betrayal, then what? He doesn’t even know who he is without her anymore.
The world had always hated him. Fed him cruelty. Turned him into what he is.
But her?
She was the only good thing he ever touched this closely. And the world–no, fate was threatening to take even that from him now.
If she ever finds out. If she looks at him like he’s part of the reason she grew up alone, she’ll run.
He was sure of it. He saw it this morning. The way she panicked. The way she flinched and tried to escape his grasp like he was something monstrous.
“GODDAMN IT!”
Killian’s voice roared through the empty study, throwing the wine glass away and shattering it into pieces. His chest heaved, nostrils flared.
Fingers raked through his hair while he gritted his teeth before standing up.
“Why her?! Out of every goddamn person!” Killian rasped to the shadows. He slammed his fist into the desk. Paper scattered.
No. He’d lie. He’d bury it. Twist fate, twist memory, twist her if he had to.
Nothing, not even the truth would take her away from him. Because he had already tasted heaven and it came in the form of a girl who trusted a devil.
He wouldn’t let her escape!
Even if it meant dragging her down into hell with him.
A sudden crooked smirk took place on Killian’s sharp features. It was dark and unrepentant. He leaned back against the couch’s headboard, eyes glinting under the dim light like a predator already rewriting fate in his mind.
‘If truth is what breaks her,’
‘then I’ll destroy the truth.’
He let out a low chuckle, almost mad.
‘She doesn’t need the past. She has me now. And if fate thinks it can take her from me–’ ‘I’ll twist fate itself until it begs!’
Killian palmed his eyes and then finally smiled to himself. A cruel psychotic smile. A smile no one had seen in years.
A gentle laugh escaped from his lips as he removed his hand away from the eyes and glanced at the ceiling with the same creepy smile.
“If changing the truth will keep you mine, bunny–” Killian snarled, “Then I’ll gladly change it!”