CHAPTER 58
BRENDA'S POV
By the time I came to, I was still in the same place.
I don't know what I expected.
Maybe freedom.
Maybe escape.
Maybe… Christian's arms.
A tear slipped silently down my cheek.
Such a foolish wish.
Weightless.
Impossible.
Gone.
My gaze swept across the room before landing on Daemonikai's arrogant form sprawled lazily in a chair in the corner, looking entirely too comfortable.
"What happened?" My voice came out hoarse. "I thought there was an explosion."
"Yeah." He shrugged casually. "Some idiot stepped on a landmine outside and blew himself to pieces."
I nodded slowly.
Disappointment settled heavily in my chest.
This was the moment I had needed saving the most.
The moment some knight in shining armor was supposed to appear.
The moment someone was supposed to rip me away from this nightmare.
But fairy tales had stopped existing for me a long time ago.
I shifted slightly.
Pain shot violently through my arm.
I hissed.
My eyes darted downward.
Bandages wrapped around my hand and wrist.
"What happened to me?"
"You fought the restraints while unconscious." He tilted his head lazily. "Almost tore your skin open. Had to patch you up."
I ignored him.
"Where's Saint?"
Nothing else mattered.
Not the pain.
Not me.
Not anything.
His expression shifted.
"Oh, that."
He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning casually against the wall like we were discussing weather.
"So…"
He dragged the word out.
"You've been unconscious for two weeks."
My heart dropped.
Two weeks?
"Add the days before the explosion and…" he pretended to calculate. "Twenty-eight days total."
My stomach twisted violently.
Twenty-eight days.
Twenty-eight days away from my daughter.
"We started getting worried," he continued. "Thought maybe Sleeping Beauty wasn't waking up."
His smirk widened.
"So clever me came up with a plan."
A sickness settled in my stomach.
"Christian may be dead," he said, voice hardening, "but his lapdogs?"
He scoffed.
"Still very much alive."
"We killed the ones we could."
Then he smiled.
A horrible smile.
"And I knew they'd be looking for you."
His eyes glittered.
"So tell me…"
He spread his hands dramatically.
"What better way to convince them you're dead than sending a little gift?"
My breath stopped.
"No…"
The word escaped like a plea.
No.
No.
No.
Surely not.
Not Saint.
Not my baby.
He burst into laughter.
Ugly.
Cruel.
Unhinged.
"You should see your face!"
He bent over laughing before wiping fake tears from his eyes.
"Relax."
He chuckled darkly.
"Your daughter's alive."
Air flooded back into my lungs.
I almost collapsed from relief.
"I wrapped her up," he continued casually, "like the Christmas present she is and dropped her off."
My chest tightened.
"Reginald's doorstep."
I stared.
Speechless.
"And just like I expected," he smirked, "he took her in."
He crossed his arms proudly.
"Her clothes were stained with your blood."
My stomach churned.
"We pumped enough from you to make it convincing."
He grinned wider.
"Now they all think you're dead."
He clapped once.
"See?"
His smile widened proudly.
"Thoughtful."
My chest ached.
But beneath the grief—
Relief.
Saint was safe.
With Reginald.
Apart from Christian and me, there was no one else I trusted more with my daughter.
Daemonikai pushed off the wall.
"Now," he said smoothly, "with the child out of the way…"
My stomach turned.
"…I think we can finally start our lives together."
I looked at him carefully.
"What about Simone?"
Something flickered in his eyes.
He looked thoughtful for a second before shrugging.
"Simone was business."
His voice was detached.
"Our marriage strengthened alliances."
He paced slowly.
"When my father stepped down, I became head of the family."
His jaw flexed.
"To gain power, I married her."
He paused.
"But now?"
His lips curved.
"I killed Christian."
He spread his arms.
"Everyone answers to me."
"Power. Money. Loyalty."
His smile sharpened.
"I no longer need Simone."
His gaze locked onto mine.
"So I divorced her."
And just like that—
Hope shattered.
He wasn't bluffing.
He was serious.
Terrifyingly serious.
He intended to keep me.
To force me into whatever twisted fantasy he had built in his mind.
I closed my eyes.
And surrendered.
Not to him.
Never to him.
But to reality.
To survival.
To Saint.
I swallowed hard.
"I'll marry you."
His entire face lit up.
"But…"
His excitement froze.
"You never touch Reginald."
I inhaled shakily.
"You never go near Saint."
His expression softened.
Then—
He smiled.
"I promise."
---
Now here I was.
Dressed in a monstrous white gown worth more than my entire existence.
Heavy makeup painted over a grief no amount of powder could conceal.
An orchid bouquet trembled violently in my hands.
I squeezed it so tightly petals crumpled beneath my grip.
There were no guests.
No laughter.
No music.
No family.
No father walking me down the aisle.
Just me.
Daemonikai.
And a priest.
Every word the priest spoke drifted over me like distant static.
His lips moved.
Sounds echoed.
But none of it reached me.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
A smile.
A white dress.
Love.
Family.
My papa proudly walking me toward forever.
Instead—
This felt like a funeral.
The burial of everything I ever wanted.
It wasn't a wedding.
It was grief dressed in lace.
I barely tuned back in until Kai spoke.
"I do."
His voice came soft.
Certain.
Obsessive.
"With everything in me."
He turned toward me, smiling like this was some dream come true.
The priest shifted his attention.
"And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and cherish him through sickness and health, till death do you part?"
Silence.
I stared at him.
No.
Not him.
Through him.
Into the emptiness beyond.
Imagining what should have been.
Christian.
Saint.
Us.
A real family.
It wasn't until Kai cleared his throat that I realized too much time had passed.
"You do, right?"
His voice was calm.
But underneath—
Danger.
I swallowed.
Fear rolled through me.
"Do I?" I whispered.
His jaw tightened instantly.
The air shifted.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Explosive.
His eyes darkened.
Rage flickered there.
Wild and terrifying.
"I don't think she does."
The voice sliced through the silence.
Everything stopped.
Every head turned.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Into the light.
My breath left me.
Shock.
Pain.
Disbelief.
Relief.
Hope.
Grief.
Every emotion hit me all at once.
Because I had seen him.
Seen him dead.
Seen him lying in blood.
So how—
How was this possible?
Christian.