They were grinning as they held him up by his hair, or crouched where he lay crumbled on the bloody ground. When the last picture fell from my hand, fluttering to the ground, I felt like I was having an out of body experience.
It was like they were hunters who’d just captured their prey, slaughtered it, and felt the sick need to pose with the corpse.
“Hades,” I choked out.
I didn’t know when or how I’d reached over and grabbed the spare pillow. And I didn’t see myself lifting it and holding it above Michael.
I watched his eyes widen, his mouth moving wordlessly, and the sound of the heart monitor going crazy.
And then I was blinking rapidly, seeing myself pushing all my weight on the pillow right over Michael’s face.
His body was lifeless beneath me, but still I couldn’t move.
My face was wet, a steady stream of tears cascading down my cheeks. I kept hearing one word in my head, or maybe I was screaming it.
Why? Why? Why?
And then someone gently gripped my upper arms, pulling me back. They took the pillow from me, tossed it aside, and turned me around before pulling me into the hardness of a very male chest.
I inhaled deeply, smelling the unique scent that was all Hades. Dark and spicy and comforting. I cried harder.
I felt him tangle his hand in my hair, keeping my face pressed to his chest.
“Fuck, Bunny. I didn’t want this for you.” Anguish laced his voice. “Goddammit, sweetheart.” He cupped either side of my head and pulled me back, tipping it so I was looking into his face.
He smoothed his thumbs across my cheeks, and that had me slowly finding my center. I was still crying, still felt the intense discomfort of what had just happened, but I felt anchored as he held me.
“Why?” I whispered that lone word, knowing he would understand what I meant, what I was asking. For long moments, he was silent.
His gaze moved over to Michael, and I closed my eyes.I killed somebody.
“Shhh. It’s all right, baby.” His voice was soft and soothing.
I realized I had said those words out loud.
“I kept him here for my perversion, to watch him suffer. To watch him die.” His voice was monotone, void of emotion, and I opened my eyes to look at him. He still stared at Michael. “And I don’t regret it.”
My gaze went to the box on the ground that had held the Polaroids, and I felt that uncomfortable tightness in my chest once more.
“I always wondered what Zachariah and our father did with the pictures they took. It was when you mentioned the box that he cherished that I knew what was inside. I had my men look through all his belongings until they found it.”
Although he watched me, there was this faraway expression in his eyes, as if he were thinking about those pictures.
“I looked at every single one of them, held each one in my hands, and was brought back to those moments when that pain was recorded. A living reminder of my soul being ripped out forever.”
He brushed away the tears as they continued to fall.
“And then I set the box by the old bastard’s bed, wanting him to see it, to know what was inside. I wanted him to know he’d never look at them again. He’d never have that pleasure or high.”
He lowered his head and sent a dark look toward Michael’s corpse. “It might not seem like much, but to him… to him I know it was agony. I know if he could’ve reached across and clutched those pictures to his chest, he would have.”
“I’m so sorry.” Those words weren’t even enough to touch the surface of all the horrors he faced.
As everything cleared, the rushing in my head faded. I inhaled deeply to take in more of Hades’ scent that washed away the smell of decay and antiseptic. I realized his face was beat to hell.
A small sound left me and I lifted my hands, touching the corner of his mouth, where his lip was busted. His eye was bruised, swollen, and he had a nasty cut at his temple.
He didn’t even wince, did nothing but stare into my eyes. And then he shook his head slowly, leaning in to kiss me softly. “It’s nothing. Nothing else matters.”