"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 37: Ying

When I grew up, I never really imaged myself being someone's person. Rarely sharing dreams similar to my peers, I felt like I really didn't belong anywhere but with the ones who thrived off of busted knees and skin that always wore a pattern of bruises in a variety of colors.

Always getting into something I shouldn't be.

Never conforming to what everyone thought I should do.

Which in turn, frustrated everyone around me, because I didn't want the stereotypical dream that 'all' women wanted. I wanted adventure and a career. I wanted to focus on me first before anyone else.

They'd say things like:

'Oh, once you found your person, you'll want kids!'

'You'll find him, I promise, and once you do, everything will make sense.'

'You want to fight for your country? But what about yada yada yada...'

The same old, same old when it came to being raised in the southern states. To me, I didn't feel like I didn't belong anywhere until I enlisted, and I didn't find my home until Graves recruited me to join his Shadow Company.

But in a blur of events, I'd been banished from the shadows and became a ghost with no true home other than the person whose callsign mirrored my new identity.

I'd done everything in my power to try and do the right thing, however, there I sat in my wooden chair, contemplating where the hell I went wrong.

I'd met my person, but I felt even more conflicted than I did before. Everything did make sense but confused me all the same.

We wanted one another in our lives, but everything was trying to tear us apart like life enjoyed entertaining itself by terrorizing us.

I knew what I wanted, but once again, there I was in this godforsaken, ass-numbing seat with my past serving as my only distraction. Memories, good and bad, kept me company, and it passed the time while I simultaneously tried to ascertain the specific event that led me here.

Happy birthday to me.

Actually, was it still my birthday? I had no concept of time with no clock or windows with the ceiling light above my head my only source of illumination. At least it was comfortable in the room and not stifling hot or bone-rattling cold.

They'd taken my bulletproof vest, boots, and the rest of my gear, leaving me barefoot and in just my long-sleeved shirt and cargo pants. Vulnerable yet clothed.

Every once in a while, it felt like a couple of hours or maybe a little more, they'd messily pour water into my mouth and feed me a cracker or two. Just enough to keep me hydrated, hungry, and slightly miserable with a skull that still ached.

I didn't recognize any of the Shadows that came in which surprised me. Surely, they would have had great fun in taunting my brain with the people I once considered friends. I'd go as far as to call them family at one point, but none of them were to be found.

Graves must have replenished his losses already and expanded his team to where I recognized none of the Shadows that came by to ensure I stayed alive.

And in the silence with nothing but a damn chair and the chains that tightly gripped onto my wrists to keep me fixated to one spot, I had nothing but the fear-inducing musings. Every move I made to adjust the discomfort to somewhere else on my body caused the chains to converse, filling the void with their steely conversation.

Better than nothing, I guess.

If I made it out of this alive, maybe it was best to scrub my hands clean of blood permanently and begin anew. I could go back to Russia, to that small town by the mountains, and teach kids English for the rest of my life.

But what about Simon?

There would be no way he'd retire the life of adrenaline and danger just to run away with me to another country.

It was what I did best, wasn't it?

Running away.

Why would I do anything different if I happened to escape? However, why would I keep doing this if I was so goddamn unhappy?

My limbs ached, not in this moment, but in general. They ached in a similar way to when my body couldn't handle anymore exertion before it inevitably crashed. I was almost to that point.

Years of training and dangerous scenarios and death, I didn't know if I could do it anymore, but there was a part of me that yearned to keep going, to keep fighting and improve myself.

But it didn't feel worth it anymore. The suffering didn't balance right with the satisfaction of the job, and it just... didn't feel right, my hands being so stained from years of stealing lives. Still good at it, but it didn't fulfill my cold soul like it used to.

Well, maybe I wasn't as good as I thought seeing that I was still tied up in this uncomfortable chair with an ass that went numb hours ago.

Mara came by less often, leaving the task of keeping me alive to the other Shadows, a chore that I knew that they didn't want to do at all. They'd rather me suffer more, whither away to nothing but skin, bones, and regret.

At this rate, they were definitely prolonging my death with just enough water and sustenance they had to hand feed me seeing that no one trusted me to undo my restraints. Even when I was led to use the bathroom the few times they'd permitted, they kept my hands bound.

I didn't blame them.

I would have killed them the moment I had the opportunity, and while I thought about a life after this, I daydreamed about how it would feel to strangle the next person who came in. How their pulse would slow just beneath my fingertips, the life draining from their eyes until they saw nothing.

Every time some nameless mercenary would visit, I envisioned myself slipping through the handcuffs with broken thumbs and having just the right amount of energy and force to grab hold of their pocket knife or even a gun, inevitably leading to a fight for survival that I didn't know if I had the drive for.

But the metal that continuously bit into my raw wrists reminded me that freedom was as intangible as having a stress-free life.

Adjusting the best I could in my seat, I waited.

And plotted.

They were probably waiting for my soul to tire out, but they'd forgotten one thing.

Revenge never ran out of steam, could never be uprooted from the bone once it was planted. Anger simmered and sadness dissipated, but revenge.... revenge could never be pacified until fulfilled.

And I'd wait for as long as it would take to feed into the starving monster that grew hungrier by the hour, desperate for sustenance that only I could provide. It foamed at the mouth as it begged in the form of a couple of names it knew how to speak.

Mara should have never told me about her night with Simon, how she drugged him and had her way with him, but she was plenty smart to stay the hell away from me, tasking others to do her bidding.

Cunt.

I couldn't wait to feed my ravenous monster with her blood.