My Dying Heart, His Cruel Vows

Jamie POV:

The moment Elijah's eyes locked onto mine, the soft grief on his face vanished, replaced by a flash of pure, unadulterated fury. It was a physical force, a wave of animosity so intense it made me flinch.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, his voice like the crack of a whip in the hallowed silence.

He took a step forward, his handsome face twisted into a mask of contempt. "You have no right. Get out."

I pushed myself up, my hand flat against Corine's cold headstone for support. My legs felt weak, my whole body trembled. "Elijah, I just wanted to… to see her." My voice came out as a ragged, desperate plea.

He let out a bark of laughter, a sound completely devoid of humor. "See her? You? That's the funniest thing I've heard all year." He stalked towards me, his shadow falling over me, engulfing me. "You, who ran away and left her to die, have the audacity to come here and pretend to mourn?"

He was so close now I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne mixing with the damp earth. His hand shot out, and his fingers wrapped around my throat.

The pressure was immense. Black spots danced in my vision.

"You should have been the one in this grave," he hissed, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning with a pain so deep it was terrifying. "She pushed you out. She saved you. And you just ran."

I couldn't breathe. The world was narrowing to a dark tunnel. But I didn't struggle. I didn't fight back. A strange, serene thought drifted through the panic: Let it end. Please, just let it end here. It' s a fitting punishment. A way to atone.

Just as my consciousness began to fray, he abruptly let go.

I collapsed to the ground, gasping, coughing, sucking in desperate gulps of air that felt like fire in my lungs. Through my watery eyes, I saw it. A flicker of something in his own. It wasn't pity. It was a complex, agonized torment, a war raging within him before it was brutally suppressed.

For a wild, foolish second, I wondered if there was still a part of him that couldn't bear to kill me with his own hands.

"Elijah, darling, what are you doing?" Kiley's petulant voice shattered the moment. She trotted over, wrapping her arm possessively through his. "Don't waste your time on… her. Corine is waiting for us."

Elijah's eyes went shuttered and cold. The fleeting vulnerability was gone, locked away. He turned from me as if I were a piece of trash on the ground, taking the flowers from Kiley and gently placing them before Corine's headstone.

He didn't look at me again. "Let's go," he said to Kiley, his voice low.

"But my feet hurt," she whined, leaning against him. "These heels are killing me."

Without a word, Elijah crouched down, his broad back facing her. She giggled and climbed on. He rose effortlessly, piggybacking her as he walked away from his sister's grave, away from me.

I watched them go, her arms wrapped around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. The image was a knife, twisting in my heart, scraping against old wounds until they bled anew.

I remembered a time, years ago, when we had gone hiking. I'd sprained my ankle, and he had carried me down the mountain just like that. He had complained the whole way, teasing me about how much I ate, but his arms had been a fortress, his back a safe harbor.

" You' re going to get so fat, Jamie-bean," I remembered him grunting with a grin. " I' m going to have to start working out twice a day just to carry you."

Corine had trotted alongside us, laughing. " Don' t listen to him, Jamie! He loves it. My brother, the big strong hero!"

Now, all of it-the love, the laughter, the tenderness-was gone. It all belonged to someone else. It had all been a lie.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to my feet, and silently followed them.

When we reached the car, Elijah glanced at me over his shoulder, his eyes filled with disgust. "Get in."

I froze.

"Don't you dare defile my sister's resting place with your presence any longer," he spat, each word a venom-tipped dart. "I'm taking you back to that cage you call a home."

My jaw tightened, but I said nothing. I slid into the back seat, a prisoner being escorted back to her cell. I had a feeling I would never be allowed to visit Corine again. This was my goodbye.

The drive down the winding mountain road was excruciating. Kiley, now in the passenger seat, was all over Elijah, her hands roaming his chest, her lips pressing against his jaw.

"Baby," she purred, her voice loud enough for me to hear clearly. "It's been so long since we've been in the car together."

Elijah' s jaw muscle jumped. "Kiley, stop. I'm driving." His voice was a low growl, strained with a desire he was trying to suppress.

She giggled, undeterred, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Her hand slid lower, disappearing from my sight.

His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. I saw his throat work as he swallowed hard.

His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, meeting mine. There was no warmth, no apology. Only a cold, cruel challenge.

Then he slammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel, pulling the car over onto the narrow shoulder of the road.

He turned, his gaze locking onto me. His eyes were dark, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Get out."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"I said, get out," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Now."

My fingers clenched the fabric of my coat. I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Jamie," he said, his voice laced with venomous impatience. "Don't make me say it a third time."

Trembling, I pushed the door open and stumbled out onto the gravel shoulder. The car door slammed shut behind me with a sound of finality.

And then, I heard it. The car began to rock. The windows were tinted, but I didn't need to see. Her soft moans, his guttural groans, the rhythmic creak of the suspension-it was all a symphony of my own personal hell, performed for an audience of one.