Alpha Damon (Sienna) novel Chapter 232

Tatiana:

I opened my eyes to the world that once killed me. The world that I once believed to be my own, and yet now a world that I knew that I did not belong in. A world that I wanted nothing more to end. A truth that I wanted nothing more than to destroy.

I felt nothing.

No heartbeat, no warmth, no comforting pulse beneath my skin, only a vast, endless coldness. And nothing. Could fill that vast emptiness that had formed in my chest.

Giovanni called this resurrection. He called it love, he called it sacrifice. But all I saw was darkness, emptiness, an unending void where a heart should have been beating. But I knew this. It was going to be my redemption, the one way that I could end them all.

Slowly, I lifted my hand, studying it as though it belonged to someone else. Pale skin stretched over bones, unmarked, untouched by the flames that once consumed me. My fingers trembled slightly, memories flickering through my mind like shadows, incomplete, scattered.

I could recall fire.

Screams.

Pain.

And then nothing.

He brought me back with blood.

He had used the blood of those who were innocent, the blood of those who are allured to my calls. He had called my spirit more than once. He had tried to convince me of everything that was around. But it was the final spec of pins and needles that made me want to come back, that made me determined to be the one to call for the boy that I had chosen to use his blood.

But I knew that it wasn’t some foolish romantic gesture, no. Giovanni never did anything without a purpose, a hidden motive. I’d watched him drain the life from countless innocents, their screams filling my ears, their blood pooling at my feet. He whispered sweetly in my ear, promising me a second chance, a fresh start, but he was blind. He was blind to what he has done.

And Delilah… he angered me with that news too. He told me Kael had kept her alive, but when my daughter found her way to my grave, Kael’s men attacked her, nearly killing her. The image haunted me, stirred a rage so fierce it consumed the hollowness within. That it made me feel something within, but something that he did not see.

Yet, Giovanni underestimated me. He thought me his puppet, his perfect, resurrected lover. He saw only my obedience, my cold compliance. But he was wrong.

I played the lover perfectly. I did my part just as I wanted it to be playing him the way he thought to be playing me.

But I had no heart to give. I had no emotions to think about or be worried of.