Paint Me Claimed - Book 2

11 | Did I say I was done?

Leonardo

The concept of breaking point they taught in Chemistry class wasn't just for metals and chemical substances. It also applied to people.

Nobody was tough enough to not have one.

My mom and Zemira were the only two people who seemed to defy that principle. No matter what, they never broke down.

It was upon my return from the war that I witnessed Mom reach her breaking point. Seeing her son almost unrecognizable and with an amputated leg, Rachel Brenton lost her will and broke down.

Perhaps, seeing my mother at her most vulnerable was also a reason for me to avoid seeing Zemira. I knew I couldn't bear the sight of her scanning me, witnessing what remained of me.

What I missed calculating in my plan to avoid seeing Zemira were fate and timing. No matter how well one planned everything, some things were unquantifiable.

One such was her being in the same city as me and the other - watching her attain her breaking point.

"I can't believe I fell for your lies," I said, watching her move towards the door.

The weight of my accusation crushed me. Seeing her again woke the monster of betrayal I'd laid to rest.

"What the fuck did you say?" Zemira's retreating figure halted. She slammed the door shut and moved back. "Say it again, Leo."

Her voice wasn't loud. It was lowered, probably considering Romeo wouldn't like someone yelling at his master. The rumbling sensation I felt drumming from inside her chest was loud. Jarring.

"Tell me, what lies have I fed you?" she said. "And what realization have you attained now?"

Zemira didn't move an inch from where she stood. Heaving, she squared my face. Her blue eyes darkened as if she redirected all her anger into burning me down.

"Say it out loud, you coward." Her teeth gritted and powdered as her jaw muscles twitched.

She shoved me.

My back embraced the cold wall behind me, arresting my steps.

The way her nostrils flared, her unblinking gaze bored into my skin and her chest heaved, I was sure she'd stab me had there been any sharp objects nearby. Zemira, in her present state, wasn't a caring and loving woman.

She was a hound thirsty for blood. My blood.

"Cat got your tongue now, Leonardo Brenton?"

Something snapped at that word. The hatred I nestled in my chest against my father, my brother and my last name, erupted.

My hands gripped her shoulders. I turned her around and chiseled her to the wall I was crucified over moments ago.

Her warm breath hit the side of my face. She looked away. Then back at me.

Her heaving chest and trembling body told another story - one asking me to listen to her. Her tear-filled eyes pled me to stop treating her like a toy.

But the breaking point that I too had attained, wasn't fixable.

I couldn't undo what her words, her existence and her betrayal did to me. She'd murdered the love I had for her.

"I said I can't believe myself for falling for your lies, Zemira Ford. I can't believe how foolish I was to believe you ever loved me."

Her arms came to her rescue.