Chapter 42
Natasha froze, the weight of Drogen's words slamming into her chest with the force of a tidal wave. Her throat tightened, and she felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. She parted her lips to respond, but nothing came out. Her heart pounded furiously, each beat echoing in her ears as his words unraveled her carefully constructed walls.
She searched his face desperately, hoping to find even a flicker of uncertainty, a clue that this was some cruel trick of fate. But Drogen's gaze remained unwavering, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her knees buckle.
"You can't mean that," she finally whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You're just saying it because—"
"Because what, Natasha?" His voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp yet agonizingly calm. Rising from his chair, his towering presence loomed closer. The room seemed to shrink as the space between them disappeared. "Because you think I'm incapable of loving someone? Or because you are too afraid to believe that I might actually care for you?"
"No," she choked out, her hands trembling as she took a step back, shaking her head vehemently. "It's not real, Drogen. It's not you! Whatever you're feeling—those aren't your emotions. They're mine. Don't you see?"
Her voice cracked as she clutched her chest, the anguish in her heart spilling out in every word. "It hurts, Drogen. It hurts knowing that every smile you've given me, every moment you've looked at me with… with tenderness… it's all just a reflection of what I feel for you! You're not really in love with me—how could you be? You said it yourself, once this blood pact is broken, you'll go back to being cold, heartless, untouched by anything that might resemble love."
Her voice faltered, but the flood of emotions didn't stop. Tears welled in her eyes as her raw confession poured out, unrestrained. "And I can't… I can't keep pretending that it doesn't tear me apart. Every time you're near me, I feel like I'm burning alive, and I'm terrified because I know it's one-sided. When this is over, you'll walk away, and I'll be left with nothing but this hollow ache where you used to be."
Her tears fell freely now, glistening in the dim light as she finally broke down. "I don't need your pity, Drogen. I don't want your empty promises or your borrowed feelings. So please, don't say things you don't mean. Don't give me hope if you're just going to take it away."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, so fragile it was almost inaudible. "Because losing you will destroy me. And if you're not really mine, I'd rather you never say the words at all."
The silence was suffocating, Natasha's trembling breaths the only sound in the room. Her gaze stayed fixed on the him, her earlier confession hanging in the air like a fragile thread. She waited, her heart pounding,even with all that confession , she hadn't told him she loved him. He should be able to tell right? He should know that no woman would feel that was if it wasn't the man she loved. But before Drogen could respond, his body tensed.
A sudden, crushing pain shot through his chest, and he staggered backward, clutching tightly at his heart.
"Drogen!" Natasha's panicked voice filled the room as she rushed to his side, her hands gripping his arms to steady him. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me!"
"I'm… fine," he muttered through clenched teeth, his face pale, his breathing uneven.
"No, you're not!" Natasha snapped, her voice breaking with fear. "This isn't fine. What's happening to you? You're immortal right?"
The sharpness in her words didn't reach him. He was too consumed by the searing, unfamiliar pain coursing through his body. It wasn't like any injury he'd suffered before, nor was it the punishment he'd endured from Drake. This was something far worse. Something he didn't understand.
The pain subsided as quickly as it came, leaving him breathless but steady enough to stand upright. He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to regain his composure.
"I'm fine," he repeated, his voice firmer this time. "It was just… dizziness."
"Dizziness?" Natasha's voice trembled, disbelief flashing in her eyes. "That wasn't dizziness, Drogen. You looked like you were in agony! You need to tell me what's going on."
He avoided her gaze, his expression hardening. "As you said, I'm immortal, so there's nothing to worry about."
But Natasha wasn't convinced. Her hands lingered on his arms, her worry etched into every line of her face. She wanted to argue, to push him to tell her the truth, but the stubborn set of his jaw told her it was pointless. For now.
A knock at the door broke the heavy tension.
"Come in," Drogen called, his voice steadier now, though there was still a hint of strain. Natasha quickly pulled away, the sudden situation made them forget about her earlier confession.
Billy stepped inside, a folder in his hand. "Sir, Mr. Edward is hosting a party tomorrow for his wedding anniversary. I've secured your invitation."
Drogen's expression shifted immediately, his features darkening. His jaw tightened, and a cold fire lit in his eyes. Edward. The politician whose son had killed Emily. The man who thought he could celebrate while his sins went unanswered.
"Good," Drogen said, his voice sharp and controlled. "How many invitations did you get?"
"Just one," Billy replied.
"Add another," Drogen ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned, his eyes landing on Natasha. "She's coming with me."
Natasha blinked, startled. "Me? Why me?"
Drogen's gaze didn't waver. "Because I need a partner to accompany me, and you're the perfect fit" he said simply, his tone final.
Billy nodded quickly. "I'll take care of it."
As Billy left the room, Natasha turned back to Drogen, her confusion evident. "What's going on, Drogen? Why do you need me for this?"
His dark eyes met hers, the intensity in them making her breath catch. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his voice low and unyielding.