Page 72 of The Arbiter
LUCY:"But that doesn't make this right," Lucy continues, her voice trembling.
LUCY:"Just because one monster is dead doesn't mean the one who killed him is a saint. You’re trading one shadow for another, Mali. You're so desperate for peace that you’re willing to sleep in a graveyard."
I swallow the lump in my throat, my eyes locked on Deimos’s sharp, unblinking gaze. He looks satisfied, as if he’s listening to a testimony of his own necessity.
ME:"He's not Jake, Lucy," I whisper, and for the first time tonight, I don't feel like I'm lying.
ME:"Jake wanted to break me. This man... he wants to own me, but he would never destroy me. There’s a difference."
LUCY:"Is there?"
Lucy asks, her skepticism cutting through the line.
LUCY:"Ownership is just a slower way of breaking someone. But I’m your best friend. I promised I’d always be your safe harbor, even if you’re being a damn fool."
She takes a shaky breath, and I can hear her shifting in the seat of her ambulance.
LUCY:"Promise me this, Madeline. The very second. The heartbeat, when you don't feel safe? You give me the word. I don't care where I am or what I'm doing. I will come with sirens blaring and get you out of there. No questions asked. No judgment. Just tell me."
ME:"I promise," I say, the words feeling like a heavy vow.
ME:"I’ll let you know. I'll be home soon. I love you, Lu."
LUCY:"Love you too, crazy girl. Be careful."
The line goes dead, and the silence of the office rushes back in, cold and absolute. I lower the phone, the screen’s light fading until the only thing visible are his eyes, glowing like embers in the dark.
I’ve bought myself time. I’ve kept her away from the edge. But as Deimos reaches out and slowly pries the phone from my trembling fingers, setting it on the desk behind me, I realize that the "safe hands" I told her about are the same ones that can crush the life out of me whenever they choose.
He leans down, his lips ghosting over my ear, his voice a dark, velvet rasp.
"You’re getting better at this. You’re starting to sound like one of us."
Deimos doesn’t let me go. His arms are a vice around my waist. He’s not just holding me; he’s anchoring me to this new, distorted reality.
"One of us," I repeat, the words tasting like copper on my tongue.
"Is that what you want? To turn me into a mirror of yourself?"
I feel the low vibration of his chuckle against my own chest. It’s a dark, jagged sound that sends a fresh shiver down my arms.
"I don't want a mirror, Mali. I want a partner. Someone who sees the world for the gutter it is and chooses to stand above it with me. You just proved you can handle the weight of a secret. That’s more than most people achieve in a lifetime."
His fingers are hooking under my chin to force my gaze upward. His expression is unreadable. A mask of obsession and cold, calculated pride. He looks at me the way an artist looks at a masterpiece they’ve finally finished.
"She's right about one thing, though. You aren't safe. Not from the world, and certainly not from me. But you're mine. And in this city, that’s the only protection that actually matters."
I look at the blood on his neck, the mess on my desk, and the dark office that used to be my sanctuary. Everything is different now. The clinical, sterile life I built is gone, replaced by the heat of his skin and the terrifying thrill of being claimed by a villain.
"I promised her I'd tell her if I didn't feel safe," I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Deimos leans down, his lips brushing against mine, his breath mingling with my own.
"Then you better start practicing your lies, Dr. Emerson. Because I’m never letting you feel 'safe' again."
He kisses me, not with the desperate hunger of before, but with a slow, agonizingly possessive finality. It’s a seal on a contract I didn't realize I was signing.
When he pulls away, he reaches for my discarded lab coat, draped over the back of the chair, and holds it out for me.
