Page 143 of Relapse
Because I mistook his obsession for love and his control for protection and his cruelty for damage.
God.
I am so fucking tired of being wrong.
“Noir,” I say, voice shaking.
He looks at me.
And for the first time, there’s a flicker of something real.
Not regret.
Not love.
Possession maybe.
A ghost of it.
“You want the cruelest part?” he asks softly.
“No,” I whisper.
He says it anyway.
“I did like you.”
The words hit me wrong.
Almost worse than hate.
“You were fun.” His eyes drag over my face, slow and detached. “Mouthy. Pretty. A great fuck.”
Dagger moves, but Noir keeps talking over him.
“But you were never Brynn.”
Everything in me goes silent.
Not broken.
Not screaming.
Silent.
Like my body finally decides it cannot survive another feeling tonight and shuts the lights off.
You were never Brynn.
The towel is slipping.
My hands are shaking.
My chest hurts.
But I don’t move.
Dagger does.
