MY TABOO STEP DADDY
His hand moves to my chest instead, tracing the scars there with reverent fingers, and we sit like that in the back of the car as it pulls smoothly into traffic.
"What's next?" Carlton asks quietly, and I can hear the question underneath the question— where does this go from here? What does forever look like when forever is built on blood and obsession and the kind of love that burns too bright to be anything but destructive?
"I find Target Seven," I tell him honestly, and I watch as understanding settles over his features.
The work continues. The revenge continues. The cycle of violence continues even as I'm holding the one thing that makes me human, the one thing that ties me to something