The Price of Love

◆ 22 ◆

Caius kept an iron grip on my arm as we left the table, Lee now just whimpering softly. He cursed my name as he groaned, and it incited no pity. Perhaps I would have felt the heavy weight of guilt pooling my stomach a week ago, but I was no longer the same girl who had known no evil until now. Evil existed, and evil sometimes reigned, because that's just the way life was.

"Was that necessary, Daphne?" Caius asked as he led me through the manor. Other than the tough grip on my elbow, he gave no indication he was upset with me. Hell, he almost sounded pleased.

"No." I said, after some thought. "It wasn't necessary."

"Some things are not always, and yet we continue to act on our baser instincts rather than rational understanding." Caius said. I pondered his words for a moment, getting the sense that his words were double-edged. I figured it was as good an apology as I would ever get from him about the death of Tommy. At the very least, Caius had the heart to recognize his actions were not needed. And neither was mine.

We walked past the elaborate double staircase and the living room. A flush of heat swelled within me when I saw the leather couch where Caius had once sat and I had seduced him to get the keys that would eventually lead to Tommy's demise. God, how could I have been so stupid? At the time, I thought I had finally gained the upperhand, but it turned out that Caius never had any intention to let go of his power, not even for a second. Why did I think I could take it from him?

Caius opened one of the doors and clicked on the light before pushing me inside. It was some sort of fancy bathroom, but from the looks of the glass sauna and the crystal chandelier hanging beneath a grey velvet couch, it was more like a full-blown spa. There was even a bright green plant next to the gold gilded toilet. Who needs a gold toilet? Rich people pooped the same color as poor people, for goodness sake. If I hadn't grown up in a home with the same pretentious decor, I would have rolled my eyes.

Caius leaned against one of the marble pillars behind the sink as I turned the faucet on. Cold water washed away Lee's blood, turning pink before running down the drain. I scrubbed my hands vigorously with soap, but I knew that, somehow, it would always manage to stay on and stain the very innocence my mother had so dearly strived to keep within me. If only she could see me now.

Keeping my hands under the water, I raised my eyes to the mirror. The world valued my beauty, but what the hell did my face ever do for me? People recognized symmetry, they saw the clear skin and the green eyes and the bright pink lips before they saw personality. Before they saw the truth. They gave me compliments on my dress before they asked how I was doing. So what the hell did a pretty face bring to the conscious? Until now, I thought a pimple was the end of the world. I thought that my beauty could protect me from everything, if my father couldn't. He couldn't. And the resentful feelings that had been building up since I turned thirteen suddenly cracked.

I looked at Caius's reflection behind me on the mirror. He was appraising me with the same familair look of criticism, but I sensed none of the hostility within him as I had with any of my mother's friends. His eyes caught mine, bright and possessive. In the light, the darkness of his strange eye was pronounced, but I had never seen a more beautiful sight. These were the same eyes that had seen bloodshed, that did not stray when bullets pierced skin, when his men died. He was almost like a soldier in the way that he could bear murder without the psychological weight, but Caius Kennedy was not fighting a war.

Unfortunately, I was.

Yes, Caius was bad. He was absolutely cruel and unfathomably murderous. But for every sin, was there not repentance? No retribution? I was still alive. As he himself had once said, I was worth more dead than I was alive. I was nothing to him, nothing at all. He didn't love me, and if he said he did, it was a lie. It was a game.

Yet here I stood, looking at my flushed cheeks and his bright eyes, my fingers turning numb from the icy water cascading over them. The blood had long since washed away, but now I could say that I was just as bad as Caius Kennedy because the worth of blood didn't matter when it was staining skin. Lee would never regain the use of his right hand and Tommy would never breathe again.

What was the retribution for my sins?

AUTHORS NOTE: Hi guys! As of 2020, this novel is incomplete and unfortunately, I am quite busy with college at the moment to finish! While I do not have any immediate plans to complete this novel, I want to say thank you for all the continued support. When I first started, I had no idea how many people would love my stories and for that— thank you. For everything.
-F