Novel & Cerita When His Perfect Mask Shattered, I Awoke

he says confidently, turning to face me with his hands in his pockets. “Then start at the beginning.” “I woke up at 3 am this morning–” “Exactly 3 am?” “Does it matter?” He asks in confusion. “Every minute matters, so I’d like you to be as specific as possible,” I instruct. “I believe the clock said 3:08.” I nod, “Continue.” “I woke up because I heard the sound of breaking glass. I rushed downstairs and saw a man in all black and a ski mask rushing out the patio door with my Roman vessel in his arms.”

It felt like the first time I could actually fill my lungs with clean air in days. Adrian sat at the wheel, his broad shoulders squared, his profile a silent, breathtaking piece of obsidian against the grey morning light. The robotic mask he had worn in the boardroom—the unfeeling, slate-cold expression that had shattered my heart hours ago—was entirely gone. He wasn't Silas's dog anymore. He had broken the tracking grid, smashed the wiretaps, and handed me my life back in a single night.

I drew my knees up and rested my forearms across them, staring at the mess I’d made. The room smelled of smoke and liquor and copper. I reached up with trembling fingers and hooked them under the edge of the silver mask. Metal warmed from my skin as it peeled away with a faint sucking sound where dried blood had glued it in place. I let the mask drop into my lap. Cool air kissed the ruined half of my face, the twisted scar tissue, the puckered flesh that never quite healed right after the fire that took my mother and branded me monster. For the first time in years I didn’t reach for another mask to cover it.

I stared at my mirror, my reflection staring back at me—the mask hiding what I had become. My fingers curled around the edges of my mask, and I yanked it off. Pain exploded inside me as I saw my reflection—disgusting. “Arrrgghhh!” My scream echoed through my room as I slammed my fist into the mirror, shattering it. Glass shards rained down, slicing through my skin. I pressed my bleeding hand harder, watching the fractured pieces of my reflection staring back at me. The pain—it hurt, it shattered me. “Arrrggghhh!”

“Wait for me here. It won’t be long.” I watched them discuss as if I was just a chicken about to be slaughtered. The man pulled off his mask, revealing a hideous black scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw. My breath hitched, my body, shaking like a cat drenched in rain. “I…I don’t know you,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I haven’t done anything against you. So why do you want me dead?”

He turned to me and this time he looked straight in my eyes and he continues, “I will try and come back here to see you. But if I can’t and you can recognize me without my mask when we meet once again, then I won’t hesitate to be yours forever. This I promise.” I became dumbfounded at the moment and couldn’t speak a word but just look into his sparkling eyes. He blinked and cleared his throat before looking away, he made his way out of the room without looking back. My heart that was accelerating at the moment stopped the instant he closed the door vanishing from my sight.

Convulsing, nails scraping marble, howling in my head—the wolf or me, I can't tell. But I don't break. Don't run to her. That's enough. Three a.m., four, five. Moon sinks, wolf ebbs. I lie there, wreckage, chest heaving. Five syringes scattered, three empty. Water spilled, dried. I won. Dawn filters through curtain edges. I push up, brace the wall, stagger to the bathroom. The mirror shows a pale wreck of a man—haggard, eyes bruised with exhaustion. But the mask slips on, cold, seamless.

Slowly, with an agonizing lack of haste, the silver began to slide away from his skin. The reveal was a slow-motion nightmare. First, a sharp, stubbled jawline emerged. Then a nose, straight and aristocratic. Finally, the eyes. Those obsidian eyes, stripped of their metallic cage, burned into mine with a ferocity that made my throat close up. I gasped, the sound a sharp intake of air that felt like swallowing shards of glass. My hand went limp, and the mask fell onto the silk sheets with a dull, final thud. I recognized him instantly.

He rose off the couch unhurried, unfolding to his full height, and something in my chest folded inward to match him, shrinking, bracing. "Take off that damn mask, Violence." A growl underneath it now, rough enough that my whole spine jerked in response before my mind caught up to the order. There was no version of tonight left where hiding still worked. My fingers found the strap at the back of my skull, and they weren't steady, not even close, fumbling twice before the knot finally gave. The mask slipped from my grip and hit the floor with a sound so small it felt obscene against how loud everything inside me had gotten.

Catastrophic. My life was like a ticking bomb of fuckups already; this would only make it explode. "Get a grip, Shayle," I whispered, shaking my head hard. It can't be. But doubt gnawed. I had to know. Reaching out, my fingers trembled as I grasped the mask's edge but figured it was still tied. Gently, I worked them free, inch by inch. He shifted again, groaning in his sleep. I held my breath but my pulse roared in my ears. Please, don't wake up.