Bound By Blood.

ch.59~ Easy.

"Meet me.

I need you."

Recovered Translated Correspondents between Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, to Order Member Alexandra Brooks, 2004.

Riddle, 2003.

Mattheo.

You would think, having Brooks under me, squirming, in pain, almost begging for me to stop... would make me feel something.

It made me feel the opposite, actually.

As I stood there, weight pressing down on her ankle, the palpable fear radiating from her eyes was intoxicating.

For so long, Brooks had acted as if my threats were nothing more than hollow echoes that would dissipate with time.

But now, seeing the genuine terror etched across her features, something shifted within me.

She thought she could play games, push boundaries, and test my limits.

But I'd made it clear in every word, every glint in my eyes, that there would be repercussions.

I had lost patience, and I reveled in the realization that she finally understood the gravity of my resolve.

As much as I had tried to protect her, to shield her from all of this, she'd taken my kindness for weakness.

Which was so fucking far from the case.

It infuriated me.

How could she expect me to keep her safe when she so blatantly disregarded my warnings?

Her defiance had become a nuisance, a thorn pricking my side that I could no longer ignore.

She had thrown her hand in the air, daring me to strike, and I had obliged, only to find that a part of me felt delight in her suffering.

When I looked into her eyes, I saw the glimmers of despair, the flickers of realization that this was no longer a game.

It felt like I was holding a mirror to her unacknowledged fears, and the sight of that reflection—my own darkness—was almost enough to make me hesitate.

What I felt wasn't remorse or guilt; it was power.

A rush of dominance that surged through my veins, replacing any inkling of compassion I might once have had for her.

Terror had a way of silencing the foolish, and I savored that.

For so long, I had been her protector, a shadow lurking in the background, willing to absorb the blows she never seemed to expect.

Blows that never even reached her.

But not anymore.

She was alone now, facing the consequences of her actions, and there was a morbid satisfaction in recognizing that she was no longer my responsibility.

If only she had realized the true nature of our world and her place in it, she could have spared herself this suffering.

I wasn't here to coddle her through life; I was here to teach her that her choices had weight, that defiance invited retribution.

She often forgot who I was now; because of who I was then.

And maybe, if she didn't act like a child, I could've still been that for her.