Page 87 of Thirst
“We’ll have to rip out the kitchen and bathrooms,” I told Talon. “Start new. And that porch has to be replaced.”
“Up to you,” he returned.
I stilled, struck by the idea. “Yeah, it is.”
I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. The irony was satisfying.
After everything the Bakers had done—the arbitrary rules, the constant punishments—I was the one left holding the keys. Their precious house and what was left of their fancy antiques? I got to choose what stayed and what burned.
As the Ferrari rattled and bounced its way up the driveway, Talon said, “You know, I think you’re right to do this. You need some—what d’you call it?—closure.”
“Revenge,” I corrected, turning onto the cliff road.
“Nah. You already got your revenge. This is something else. Tying up loose ends…letting go.”
“Maybe. But it’s also revenge.”
We shared a wolfish smile.
I liked to think that somewhere out there, Baker saw my smile—and flinched.
22
Nyx
I toweled off, my thoughts ricocheting between two impossible choices: Nazaire or Cain. Honor or love.
The fact that it even felt like a choice made my chest constrict. I wasn’t supposed to hesitate when it came to Nazaire. Hesitation went against everything I’d been taught to believe.
But it was time to face facts. The story I’d always told myself about my father—about what I was to him—was a lie. I was never going to earn his approval. He was never going to love me. I’d been a tool, at best.
What I’d called discipline had always been domination. What I’d told myself was training had always been control. And the way he watched me, corrected me, punished me—it hadn’t been about making me stronger. It had been about molding me into something he could use.
I’d spent years pretending his cruelty had purpose, that there was some logic behind it. But there wasn’t. He hurt me because he wanted to. Because he could. Because it pleased him to see me bend.
It was time to accept I’d never be enough for him, not as an heir and not as a daughter.
With the decision came a kind of peace, the weary clarity that settles in your bones when you stop resisting what you know is true.
Nazaire couldn’t “rescue” me if I refused to leave. This wasn’t his territory. Anyone he sent would be counting on my cooperation.
Well, fuck that.
I wasn’t completely powerless. I could disappear into the shadows, glamour myself. Even if my father came himself, he’d have to knock me out before I’d leave because I wasn’t going quietly.
Which left Cain. Some of the bravado drained out of me.
You could stay. He wants you to.
The Dark Gods knew I was tempted.
But not like this. Cain might want me, but his offer came with conditions.
I’d never come first with him. He’d said himself that his duty was to his syndicate. If I stayed on Lilith Island, I’d be tying myself to a man who hadn’t chosen me freely.
A man who’d never choose me, Nyx, over his syndicate brothers.
The thought left a hollow ache blooming under my ribs.
