But I wouldn’t change a thing.

Self-harm came in the form of battling my conditioning every time Clara came near, and I grew to understand my triggers better; understand what made me snap and revert to Ghost, and what allowed me to stay sane.

On the first night, after burning a tray of chicken nuggets, I finally got the hang of how to use the oven and had the best meal of my life. Sitting around a kitchen table I’d never sat at, using skills I’d never had to learn, I indulged in normalcy.

Staring at Zel and Clara while eating such a simple meal, I cursed my handlers once again for stealing my life. For giving me a world shut off from love, laughter, and gentleness. Not once had we ever been allowed to form attachments. Our cells were apart, our meals eaten separately. Our only purpose to rest like a stowed weapon until a new contract came through. A new enemy to kill or vendetta to fulfill on behalf of obscenely wealthy men and women.

It’d been worse than a prison sentence, and I felt as if the bars were finally disappearing—I’d found a way to weld myself free, and I would never allow anyone to steal so much from me again.

Zel kept her distance. That first night, I gave her the room next to mine—fully aware she would need her own space with Clara. I didn’t push for another kiss, or time alone to talk. I was content to just have them in my home. I may be obsessed with Clara, but I knew I had to tread lightly. To not let on just how f**ked-up I was, and how much I needed her.

Every second in Clara’s presence lifted the black cloud from around my heart, and I found my lips twitching and stomach clenching in a brand new emotion of happiness. It filled me with sunshine and for the first time since they stole me, I didn’t fear the darkness inside my soul. I had something other than death surrounding me. I had life.

Clara didn’t go to school the next day. Instead, Zel allowed her to explore my home while I slept till midday. I found them in the greenhouse when I woke and trailed after mother and daughter, drinking in their magic.

I’d wanted Zel the moment I’d set eyes on her in Obsidian, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the ever burning passion I now smouldered with. Every time she laughed at a quip from Clara, or tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, I inched closer to falling.

I didn’t know if she’d accept me, or if she’d leave in a few days and that would be the end of it, but she owned me more than anyone. More than my handlers, more than my own self-worth, I belonged completely and utterly to her.

I did the right thing—the only correct thing in my life by keeping my hands off her. I didn’t know how I managed. My c**k had a mind of its own, and my eyes weren’t content unless she was centrefold, but I refused to hurt her again. I meant what I said when I agreed to never going near her if that was what she wished.

I ignored my thoughts of taking her and hoarded the sweet, unsullied companionship Zel and Clara gave me.

The next time I took her—if there was a next time—I wanted to give her everything. I wanted to make love to her. I wanted to learn the difference. I wanted her to know I belonged to her.

Every now and again, Clara would cough and tears would fill her little eyes. Zel would administer an asthma inhaler and the coughs would dissipate. Whenever I asked why Clara was coughing, Zel would snap and tell me it was only asthma—nothing to worry myself about.

But I did worry. A lot. Something wasn’t right. Her lies stank, drenched in grief, and the sharp tingle of fear never left my skin.

Seeing the love Zel had for her daughter almost brought me to my f**king knees. I’d give anything to have her look at me that way.

Her sorrow tainted everything she did, though. She thought I didn’t notice; she thought Clara didn’t notice. But we did. Often Clara would catch my eye over Zel’s shoulder mid-hug, her little eyebrow raised in question.

Zel carried sadness inside, heavy and aching, and she never uttered a word about it.

When Zel and Clara went to bed, I oversaw Obsidian. Once the last fighter left at five a.m., I headed to my basement and worked on Clara’s request.

The second night was spent out on the lawn under the summer sun. Complete with Nutella sandwiches and chocolate dipped marshmallows. Zel had rolled her eyes at how easily swayed I was by the whims of an eight-year-old. She didn’t know taking orders was in my DNA. She also didn’t know I’d fought my handlers all my life and enjoyed finally obeying such simple, innocent requests from someone so tiny.

I would kill for her without question. I would protect her with my life.

When dinner was over and Zel announced it was Clara’s bedtime, she’d pouted and moaned and only settled once I’d dragged three bronze statues into her bedroom—slowly building a menagerie of metal wildlife.

I indulged her. I adored her.

I’d never been so consumed by one person. Every time I watched her liveliness, my heart would break for Vasily and all the children like me who’d been killed because we weren’t cold-hearted enough for the warped game of our handlers.

Clara looked nothing like him—where she was dark and pearly skin, Vasily had been dusky skinned and fair. Vasily’s eyes had been like mine—an artic white-blue so clear I had a vague memory of my mother calling them icebergs.

It didn’t matter Clara looked nothing like him. My brain couldn’t stop poking at wounds, invoking pain I thought I’d put behind me.

But the pain didn’t compare to the newness and warmth I’d found. Where Clara was my sun—healing and casting my shadows away—Zel was my f**king cosmos.

She was everything I wanted. Everything I needed. Everything I never thought I’d deserve.

Obsidian used to be my obsession, but now I no longer cared about the fighters pummelling each other in my house, or the steady influx of money from eager members. I wanted to rest and step back from violence.

I was done with it.

I just hoped it was done with me.

I woke at my usual midday and worked out for an hour before entering my office. The calendar on my desk blotter told me it was Saturday.

A big night at Obsidian and the weekend. No school for Clara. My heart picked up its beat at the thought of asking Zel to stay another night.

She’d agreed previously not because she wanted to, but because Clara had bounced around like a little lunatic and sealed the deal without her permission.

Ask her in front of Clara again.

I knew it was underhanded to use the excitement of an eight-year-old to keep Zel here, but I didn’t mind playing dirty if it meant she never f**king left. My days were brighter and darker, easier and harder, when she was around, and I wasn’t ready to give that up.