BLOOD AND HEART

87 | INTO MY POSSESSION

A  D  R  I  A  N

“Here’s the deal, you do exactly what I say
Exactly what I say, one hundred percent
You’re mind belongs to me now”
 

People said I couldn't feel anything, that I was emotionless, a hollow shell of a man. But they were wrong. I could feel, and I felt everything—rage, desire, obsession. Especially when it came to Nyx. She was mine, and I’d tear apart anyone who dared to think otherwise.

With her in my arms, I felt an elation so intense it bordered on madness. Even now, with her face bloodied and bruised, eyes closed and breathing shallow, she looked like an angel—an angel fallen from grace, into my possession. She was perfection in her pain, and I could hardly contain the sick satisfaction it brought me.

"Yo, I think she passed out," Joseph said, his voice grating on my nerves as he stared at Nyx, his eyes roaming over her too long for my liking.

I felt my hands twitch, but I kept my composure for the moment, gently shaking her. When she didn’t respond, a cold dread started to creep in, mingling with my fury. I splashed water on her face, but she didn’t even flinch. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating me with the possibility that she might slip away.

"Yo, I think she’s dying," Joseph continued, his voice a disgusting mix of curiosity and indifference. He kept eyeing her like she was some broken doll.

My vision went red. I didn’t even think—my hand moved on its own, pulling out my dagger and plunging it into his eye. The blade sank in with a sickening squelch, and Joseph’s scream tore through the air.

"Don’t look at her," I hissed, my voice low and venomous. I twisted the blade for good measure before pulling it out, blood spraying across my face.

He staggered back, clutching his ruined eye, laughter bubbling up through his pain. "Fuck you, man. Now I have to put on an eye patch."

He was lucky that was all he’d have to do. I could’ve killed him. I should’ve killed him. But no, he wasn’t worth dirtying my hands any further. My focus was entirely on Nyx. Her body was limp in my arms as I scooped her up, her blood soaking into my clothes, a reminder of how fragile she was, how easily she could be broken. But not yet. Not now. She was still mine, and I wasn’t done with her.

The air was thick with tension as we sped through the streets, my mind racing faster than the car. I dialed a number, and when it connected, I didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

"Get to my place now," I ordered, my voice a sharp command. "I don’t care what you’re doing. Drop it and get here."

The response was a quick, stammered agreement. He knew better than to argue with me. He owed me, and I was calling in that debt tonight.

We pulled up to my secluded hideout, the one place in the world where I could truly be myself, where no one dared question me. My doctor friend was already waiting, his face pale when he saw the state Nyx was in. He hesitated for a split second, and I nearly snapped his neck for it.

"Fix her," I snarled, shoving her into his arms. "Now."

He nodded quickly, leading us inside. My place was a fortress, designed to keep people out—or in. The walls were lined with memories, trophies of those who’d crossed me, their fates sealed in blood. And now Nyx would be here, too, a permanent fixture in my life.

The doctor worked in silence, his hands moving quickly but carefully. I watched every move he made, the flicker of a blade, the thread pulling her skin together, the sterile smell of antiseptic mixing with the metallic tang of blood. He glanced at me once, his eyes betraying his fear, but he said nothing. He knew better than to speak out of turn.