Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Condemn My Soul ( Chapter 28 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, I'm not even renting.

 

A/N: Thanks everyone for continuing to read along, I really appreciate all of your thoughtful support! I know it's been a long hard road, but eventually we'll get there. Just not today! LOL! This chapter has been lingering in my head since I started this story, how many years ago…? I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

Thanks to Barb for editing.

 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Condemn My Soul

 

She had done it. She had unlocked the secret of the Legendary. She could now unleash the most powerful weapon known to man on the universe.

 

The question was, did she dare?

 

She chanced a quick glance out her office window to the laboratory floor, and the cage that it held. She was hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as she watched Vegeta pace back and forth like a trapped tiger in his confinement. He glided across the floor with a stride that spoke of barely contained rage, and sleek, dangerous grace. She could feel the reckless energy building inside of him, relentlessly hunting for an outlet, seeking for a chink in his battered stoicism that hid his fury, looking for a way to escape and kill them all. When he pivoted on his heel, she quickly ducked her head to shuffle the papers on her desk, afraid of being sighted by the ruthless predator.

 

Everything was almost exactly as it had been so many months ago. Vegeta pacing his cage like a wild animal while she was safely ensconced in her plush office. The only difference was the absent swish of his tail, and the smoldering heat in his eyes. Instead there was only cold, dark hatred whenever he looked at her.

 

There was no speaking either. No threats with thinly veiled innuendo. No heated arguments, and absolutely no name calling, either viciously shouted or softly whispered. Only deathly silence lay between them, drowning out everything else. Where once there had been simmering lust and wicked longings there was only a graveyard of murdered passions.

 

Bulma honestly didn't know if Vegeta had anything to say to her. She refused to be in the same room with him. A cowardly streak a mile wide urged her to run to her office every morning to avoid his piercing gaze, and undoubtedly sharp tongue. She was afraid of what he might say, of the words that he would use to crush her heart. She knew that he didn't love her anymore (if ever), but she didn't want to hear it spoken aloud; she didn't want her love to be made a mockery of.

 

But that didn't cease her purpose. Every day she had to meet with Frieza to give him a progress report. Every day she had to invent something to tell him. She ordered her new minions to run painless, important-sounding tests on Vegeta that were meaningless, buying herself time that she didn't have. Instead she studied the scientific advancements of a supposedly superior race, learning everything she could about them, looking for a weakness, seeking her own chink in their armor. What she found shocked her.

 

They were advanced in many aspects, such as space-travel, cybernetics, and nanotechnology, but they were lacking in some very fundamental sciences. For instance, they had yet to split the atom. They had no idea what a nuclear reaction was, how to create a bomb, or convert the energy into power. They were a race of warriors, and conquering, swaggering warlords. They had no need for armaments on their ships, or weapons for their soldiers. The warriors were the weapons, generating energy from inside their bodies, and shooting it out in destructive ki blasts. All they needed to know was how to transport those weapons, and how to heal them.

 

She absorbed this information with awe, careful to hide her knowledge from the watchful eyes of Frieza. He had made it devastatingly clear that they were on their way to Earth so he could annihilate every living creature there. A punishment for housing a being that dared to challenge his power. No one could naysay him, not even his father, King Cold. Instead he was coddled by the overly affectionate parent, who was just pleased to have his son back, and not some pudding-headed numbskull in his place. While everyone else on the ship did everything in their power to avoid the psychotic wrath of the newly reconstructed tyrant, Cold fed into his son's lunacy with tales of the destruction they would wreak on Earth, increasing his insanity tenfold.

 

Everyday Frieza entered her office, his eyes wild, his fanaticism more intense. He needed the answer to Ascension and he needed it now! When he spoke his fingers would curl at his sides, clutching at some imaginary goal that was just beyond his grasp. He rattled on about being born of lava, and bathed in golden light. He had seen the answer to immortality, stared into its mystic teal eyes, and saw the beginning of time itself. He had peered into the heart of the true power, and he would murder worlds to possess it, starting with the birthplace of it all, Earth.

 

He left her with little choice but to concoct a plan that would save them all, even as it condemned her for eternity.

 

Bulma's heart fluttered with the cold certainty that Frieza would follow through with his oath. He would kill everyone, blowing Earth apart until there wasn't enough dirt left to fill a crystal vial. Worse, there was no one who could stop him. There was no hero waiting in the ranks, while his friends stalled for just a few more minutes until his inevitable arrival. There was only her. Now that she knew that Goku was dead, it was left to her to defend her world, to protect her family, to introduce the Ice-jinn Empire to the power of her knowledge.

 

Vegeta had declared on many occasions that he would destroy Earth, and he nearly had the opportunity when he broke free from his cage, killing the soldiers who thought they could subdue him. She had struggled with the moral devastation of her soul, a choice that she couldn't make: the destruction of her world or eternal damnation. At that time, in that place, she hadn't the strength to make the decision. A lifetime of spoilt, pampered demands, and safe, comfortable security had left her without the mental and spiritual fortitude that she needed to succeed.

 

Truly in her heart, she never believed that Vegeta was that evil. His words had been horrible, his conviction chilling, but even then she had seen passed the façade of monstrosity that he presented to the world. Deep down, she had faith that he was a man, not a monster. Perhaps she was soft or had been naïve, but secretly she always had faith that he would do the right thing.

 

But Frieza was evil. Not, `oh, he's a bad man, save me,' evil, but full-blown, unadulterated, spawn of Satan, pure, unholy wickedness that couldn't be exorcised or circumvented. It could only be destroyed. All that was left between him and the destruction of her world was her brilliant mind, her ability to make a pact with an exiled, demon prince, and the willingness to burn in hell for it.

 

She glanced at Vegeta, her secret weapon. She already knew the answer to the question that everyone was asking. How could they obtain the Legendary? How could they steal the power of Ascension? It was Trulock who had pointed it out in the first place, he just hadn't realized it.

 

The moon was what gave Saiyans their power. The gravitational pull combined with the dark matter ions that it produced as they reflected in the sunlight. All she had to do was isolate the ions, condense them down to fit a simple style hand gun that she had specially constructed to generate the dark matter beams and expel them like bullets. Now, all that was left was to pull the trigger.

 

Bulma glanced apprehensively towards Vegeta. She knew that if she gave him the power to transform he could defeat his enemies. He would punish all those who deserved his wrath, and when he was done he would move onto the rest of the universe, quite possibly killing every single person in it.

 

She knew it sounded extreme, but she couldn't get the thought out of her head. Before her betrayal she would never have considered it, but now…

 

Vegeta's hatred was so thick that it hung in the air, coating her throat and lungs with an oily viscosity that threatened to choke the life out of her. She had never seen so much anger, so much hatred, mixing together to create such a deadly miasma in the air.

 

Everything was in place, her plan was already in motion, and there was no stopping the outcome. There was only accepting it with as little grace and dignity that she could muster. It was hard for her, condemning her soul. She thought she should fight, to rail and scream against destiny, something to benchmark her desire to be virtuous. Instead she only felt a cold, hard emptiness inside her where her heart should be. Her body was heavy, weighed down by burdens, the only thing keeping her alive, caging her soul inside the abomination of herself.

 

She sighed resignedly, no more fight left inside. She picked up the alien communication device, a.k.a. the phone, and called for Zarbon to come pick her up. He insisted on escorting her from the lab each night, never missing an opportunity to rub Vegeta's face in their relationship. At first Vegeta's eyes burned with a hatred that charred her on the spot, but now they held a cold emptiness that echoed in her heart. At those moments, she wished that her flesh would rot away around her, freeing her from the agony of living.

 

She picked up a heavy, aluminum case, palming a small jar in the other hand, wondering if her wish would be granted tonight.

 

She trudged out into the lab, picking her way delicately down the metal stairs that led to the main floor. The last thing she needed was to get her heel caught in the round holes on the steps and tumble to her death. She was sure that Vegeta would get a great deal of perverse satisfaction at seeing her in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck, but she had no intention of indulging him. Proving his point, he turned his back the instant he saw her coming, making it clear that he didn't even want to look at her.

 

She made her way to the desk nearest to his cage, hefting the silver case on top where it clattered noisily. She flinched, holding her breath in rigid expectation, exhaling shakily when nothing happened. Shrugging fatalistically, she snapped the case open, busily peering inside.

 

Vegeta glared over his shoulder at her. Normally, she raced from her office, never glancing his way, only pausing to whore herself with the green freak who picked her up nightly. Their displays were disgusting, turning his stomach faster than a vat of slimy maggots would, but that didn't stop him from covertly watching them from the corner of his eye.

 

He would give anything to be free of his cage so he could squeeze the life out of her frail body---his heart that beat with betrayal at the sight of her, his near-dead soul that withered in her presence…his absent tail that still ached---anything to be rid of his attraction for her.

 

The object of his intense loathing was fiddling around with something in the case, ignoring him completely. He could hear the soft clicks of switches being thrown and a digital alarm being set. Curiosity warred within him, but he refused to speak. He wouldn't say another word to the bitch until he was sure that it was the last she would ever hear. His voice would usher her into the afterlife, his words of damnation would linger over her for eternity.

 

Bulma closed the case with another heavy sigh, absently thinking if this was how Vegeta felt. Dead, emotionless, utterly detached from reality. She wondered briefly if she could succeed with her plan, if she could actually condemn her soul and survive. It hinged on the man whose back was to her, the man who claimed her life as his own.

 

“Vegeta. I know you are mad at me.” Kami, even she knew that was an understatement. She cleared her throat, determined to speak with confidence.

 

“I know you feel that I betrayed you, and I did, but not for the reason you think.”

 

Vegeta steadfastly ignored her, glaring at the wall before him.

 

“I was afraid…” Her voice broke, and she felt the dam that held back the flood of her emotions start to crack.

 

“I was afraid of losing you.”

 

Vegeta couldn't help the snort of disgust that escaped him. Angrily he turned further away, hunching his shoulders. Bulma was bolstered by the small sound, reassured that he was at least listening.

 

“I was afraid of Zarbon, of Frieza, of what they would do when your secret was out. All I wanted to do was protect you. To give you a chance to be free so you could defeat them.”

 

She paused, searching for the words that would redeem her in his eyes, knowing that none existed.

 

“All I wanted to do was save you, like you saved me.”

 

Vegeta didn't move, his muscles were stone, his anger settled silently around his body like a shield. She knew that if he still had his tail that it would be wrapped tightly around his waist, not twitching sporadically like it did when he was only mildly annoyed. A truly dangerous sign.

 

His tail, that was the root of all his anger. Even if she could explain away Zarbon, even if he believed that she did it for him, there was nothing she could say that would appease his fury over her taking his tail.

 

“I'm sorry. So sorry,” she whispered, wiping away a stray tear. “I had no choice. I knew our only hope was if I became the head scientist on your project. It wasn't my idea. I would have never cut your tail…”

 

“You bitch!” Vegeta exploded in fury, his eyes narrowed, his fangs bared. He stalked forward, edging as close to the force field as he dared. His aura expanded around his body, swirling around him, a meteor storm in the darkness of his hate.

 

Bulma froze, standing stock-still waiting with heart-pounding expectation. Vegeta sneered, slathering her with hatred from across the room.

 

He did not speak.

 

She did not move.

 

Seconds ticked by, and Bulma knew in that moment that he wasn't going to finish. He wasn't going to forgive her. He retracted his name for her, relinquishing his brand, setting her free. She would never again hear the endearment rasped in her ear, while he pressed his hard body against hers. Never again would she be his bitchess.

 

Her heart died. It cracked apart in her chest, splintering her soul. There was nothing left for her. No reason not to continue with her plan. All she could do was sacrifice herself for the safety of her world.

 

She picked up the silver case, tucking it carefully between two network servers that guarded the wall. Silently she came around to the front of the desk, her sad eyes never leaving his. He pressed his lips together in regret at his outburst. He never meant to speak, to acknowledge her in any way. She wouldn't get another word out of him, even if it killed him.

 

She leaned her hips against the desk, crossing her ankles in front of her as she opened the jar that had been warming in her palm. Absently she slicked the thick, creamy balm on her lips, rubbing them together to spread it evenly.

 

“Who do you think controls circumstance?” she wondered out loud, looking at Vegeta. “Is it destiny or karma?” When he didn't reply she shrugged to herself. “Perhaps its just two faces on the same coin. One vindictive bitch that decides it all.”

 

Vegeta glared at her, taking in her sad eyes and pale face. He wanted to ask her what she was up to, demand that she explain her behavior. He had seen that look on her face before, and it usually boded ill for him.

 

“I love you, you know,” she confessed, without the heat of passion, just a statement of fact that must be true, no other answer was plausible.

 

Vegeta fought back the twitch in his brow. He was tired of hearing the witch speak, of listening to the lies that spewed from her crimson lips. She opened her mouth and shit flew out, spattering him with garbage he didn't want.

 

“I've never truly been in love before. Oh, I thought that I loved Yamcha, but I realize now that it was a girlish, foolish infatuation. It was fickle and unsubstantial, not at all how I feel now.”

 

Now she had to go and bring up the worthless human she was always moaning about. Didn't she ever shut up? Vegeta turned his back on her again, pacing towards the furthest wall in his cell. He braced his forearm on the steel wall, resting his forehead on his fisted hand, and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn't want to hear another word from her mouth, every sound she made was a stab of pain in the center of his chest, the place where his heart used to be. He doubted distance would mute her voice. He always managed to hear every syllable she uttered, as if his traitorous ears were tuned into her singular frequency.

 

“Love is about sacrifice. I understand that now. I know that I love you, because I would sacrifice everything that I am for you.”

 

Pain exploded in his chest, crept up his body, and threatened to make his eyes water. He wished she would stop saying that word, he wished she would just stop speaking entirely. He whirled around, a sneer on his lips and an insult on his tongue. He couldn't stand her blathering any longer. He was willing to break his oath just for some blessed silence.

 

The outer lab doors hissed open, stilling Vegeta's intention to speak. Zarbon sauntered in, a smug smile on his lips. Vegeta growled, low and deadly, before turning away to face the wall. He refused to look at the man, much less acknowledge him or the agony that was growing inside him. He stared at the wall, willing emptiness to engulf him, allowing a void to replace his soul.

 

Zarbon was surprised to see Bulma standing in front of Vegeta's cage. Usually she hid in her office until he appeared to take her away. Of course, he always claimed a kiss as his due in front of Vegeta. That was the best part of his day. The look on the other male's face was always priceless.

 

He strutted up to Bulma, wondering briefly what they were talking about, before dismissing it as unimportant. He cared not for their lover's spat, but he had every intention of escalating the situation into a full-blown battle. He grabbed her up by the waist, pulling her into his arms.

 

“Waiting for me, love?” he boasted, his eyes glowing with maliciousness.

 

“With baited breath,” she replied placidly, surprising him. She never participated in the verbal spars meant for Vegeta. He mentally shrugged, passing it off as an anomaly.

 

He molded his lips over hers, prying them open with his tongue before delving inside. Her normally rigid body was lax in his arms, her mouth unresisting beneath his. He drew the kiss out as long as he dared, before becoming unsettled by her calmness. He pulled away, setting her aside.

 

“Are you ready?” Zarbon's voice was stilted with uncertainty, his eyes questioning.

 

“No,” was Bulma's sharp reply. Taken aback, Zarbon didn't respond right away.

 

Stepping around him, she addressed Vegeta. Both men could hear the change in her voice, the softening of her tone, the sadness in her cadence.

 

“I've often wondered if I could kill for you.” The utter strangeness of her words stalled his heart, urging Vegeta to face her, moving him unlike any pleas for forgiveness. Killing he knew, was something that Bulma would never condone. She wore her unsoiled morality like a badge of honor, waving it in front of him when he was at his weakest. She would sooner slit her own wrists than harm another creature. Her statement was absurd, nothing more.

 

He glared at her, noting that she refused to look at him. Her eyes were glued to the floor between her toes, her demeanor withdrawn and ashamed.

 

“First I thought that I could kill you to save my world.”

 

Vegeta snorted at that. They both knew how that turned out. Her lack of spine was what got them into this mess in the first place. Her inability to conquer her own purity had nearly led to the slaughter of an entire civilization. Only her audacity had turned the tables otherwise. He narrowed his eyes, refusing to think about that.

 

“On our journey I saw so many terrible things, experienced so much. I began to think about what I would do. What would I do to save you? To succeed where I once failed. To protect the one I love.”

 

Zarbon snapped out of his stupor, realizing that Bulma was treading on dangerous ground.

 

“That's enough,” he ordered, snagging her arm to drag her away. She refused, throwing her weight against his, while firmly locking her eyes with Vegeta's. They stared at each across the distance, spanning time and space for one heartbeat to relive their memories together.

 

“I asked myself, if I could kill for you.”

 

Zarbon yanked on her arm again, but his fingers felt brittle and weak. Something minute crackled beneath his skin, spider webbing through his veins.

 

“There's so many fascinating facts in the computer's database.” Bulma broke her gaze with Vegeta's, addressing Zarbon once again. Her aloof tone was poisonous, with none of the softness that it held for Vegeta.

 

“All kinds of information on alien anatomy. For instance, did you know that you are a species of freshwater amphibian?”

 

Zarbon's eyes bulged, his skin fading gray. He tried to open his mouth, to demand what she had done, but his body wouldn't obey. His muscles spasmed, loosing their substance and strength until they felt like spun sugar. Vegeta eyed Zarbon, drifting to the front of his cage soundlessly.

 

“Well, of course you knew that,” she quipped, chatting amicably with the dying man. “The fascinating thing is, that means salt is lethal to your kind. Completely harmless to me, a weak little human, but deadly to you, even with all your power. All that was needed was for a super concentrated dose to be ingested or absorbed through a thin layer of skin.” Bulma wiped her mouth contemptuously on the sleeve of her coat, erasing the evidence of her crime from her petal-soft lips.

 

Zarbon convulsed, reflexively grabbing his chest, his muscles shattering. He felt something brittle splinter inside him, falling apart as abruptly as a house of cards.

 

“I guess the sodium chloride crystallizes in your veins, clogging your arteries and exploding your heart. An absolutely awful way to die, wouldn't you agree?”

 

Zarbon's knees buckled before her, his face a mask of horror. There was no glorious battle, or trumpets heralding his death like he had dreamed. No men and women sobbing in grief, singing mournful dirges as he passed in beautiful repose on satin pillows into the next realm. There wasn't even a remorseful whisper of sound as his last breath escaped his lips.

 

Bulma stepped away, her features remote as he crumpled dead at her feet. Her fist unclenched, the forgotten jar of salve tumbling from her numb fingers and tangling in the haphazard spill of Zarbon's foam-green hair on the floor.

 

Silence descended on the room, as loud and devastating as an avalanche. Bulma stared at Zarbon's body, Vegeta stared at her. He couldn't believe what he just saw; his mind was still scrambling to keep up. Bulma Briefs, the purest soul he ever met, his innocent angel, had just murdered a man.

 

“What have you done?” he asked, disbelief nearly stealing his voice.

 

There was a pregnant pause in the room, seconds ripped by like an abortionist's knife as Bulma lifted her head to look at him. The shadows in her face closed up his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. No longer could he see the precious light in her eyes, instead there was only death.

 

“The answer to the question is yes,” she murmured, seemingly unfazed by the atrocity she had just committed.

 

“What question?” he rasped out, completely befuddled by the bizarre situation. He couldn't get passed the feeling of dread that was compounding in the hole where his heart should be. Hard and heavy, an obsidian ball of despair weighed him down.

 

Bulma's attention drifted back towards Zarbon's body. She stood frozen over him, unable to move, dying to run.

 

“What question, Bulma?” Vegeta demanded harshly, insisting that she refocus her attention back to him. She glanced at him, her dull, blue eyes a fraction wider at his tone.

 

“Would I kill someone for you?”

 

The obsidian ball dropped out of his heart, tearing chunks of the muscles and meat with it, landing heavily in his gut. All at once, with soul-chilling certainty, he knew that he was a monster. Before he had been a bastard who did the bidding of his master, but it wasn't until he tore an angel down from heaven, and rolled her in the muck of hell had he truly become an abomination.

 

Vegeta looked at Bulma with silent, black eyes. Her shoulders were slumped, her skin unnaturally pale. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, lines of worry and sleeplessness creased the corners. Worse was the look inside their blue depths. He had seen it before, in the child that stood over the charred corpse of a parent, in the man clutching the body of his lover, in the mirror when he looked at himself. It was loss, deep all-consuming loss. And he was the one who gifted it too her.

 

Suddenly, the ship was rocked with a series of wrenching explosions that sent the floor shuddering beneath their feet. Bulma stumbled against the desk, snapping out of her daze, her eyes sparking to life. She glanced around before snatching up her key card from the desk.

 

“What's going on?” he shouted, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. Bulma raced towards his cell, steadying herself when another bombardment wracked the ship.

 

“The explosive devices I set on a timer are detonating,” she explained briefly as if he should already know.

 

“What?” he growled half in annoyance, half in astonishment. What was she going to do next?”

 

“I set them in key areas certain to draw attention, and clear a path to my ship, Isis. She's fully stocked and ready for take off.” What she failed to mention was that the cylinder containing his cryogenically frozen tail, and the most dangerous weapon in the universe, her moon wave gun, were also stashed aboard. She had no doubt that he would find them, along with the note that she had left behind.

 

Bulma stood in front of Vegeta's cell's electronic lock, card in hand. Vegeta looked at her expectantly, and she stared back.

 

This was the moment of reckoning, their promised rendezvous with fate. If Vegeta was going to kill her it would be right there, right then.

 

“Swear to me that you will help to protect Earth.”

 

Vegeta couldn't have been more stunned if she asked him to mate with snails. His jaw dropped open a split second before he snapped it closed.

 

“No,” he spat bitterly.

 

“Do it or I will leave you in there.” Vegeta was her last hope. The most powerful warrior that she knew. Now that she understood the answer to his Ascension, she was confident that he could save her world from annihilation, from any threat of the Ice-jinn Empire presented, and even from himself. All she needed was for him to agree.

 

Bulma's lips compressed into a thin line of resolve, her eyes hardening with a mercilessness that hadn't been there before they'd met. Guilt, a feeling he thought never to experience crept inside him, nestling in the hollowness of his heart. He hated her, but he couldn't deny her. He wanted to escape her, but he couldn't leave her side.

 

“Fine,” he grit out, guilt and the lure of freedom urging him on.

 

“Swear it. Swear it on your honor as a prince.”

 

He sneered, his lip curling in disgust.

 

“Whatever,” he growled, wondering if she still had faith enough in him to believe his empty promise. Bulma's eyes narrowed, spotting the lie lingering in the air between them.

 

“Swear it on the blood of your family.” She pulled down the collar of her turtle neck to bare her throat. The twinkling of the ruby from his arm cuff caught his eye instantly. She wore the symbol of blood, of family, of Saiyan pride around her throat. A gift from his own hands.

 

She met his eyes proudly, daring him to deny her, to lie to her face. Trapped between the certainty of a dishonorable death and an oath that would probably end in his demise, he chose the only path he could.

 

“I swear.”

 

Something akin to relief swept over Bulma, lightening the load on her shoulders, and easing her soul. With a sigh of acceptance she swiped her card, bracing herself for the inevitable.

 

Vegeta exploded from the cage, all of his suppressed wrath, frustration and desire stampeding into an unreasonable pitch. Roughly he gathered Bulma up into his arms, fitting her soft body against his unyielding one.

 

He looked down, expecting to see her teary eyes begging for mercy, instead he was greeted with the crown of her head. He glared at the white line of her scalp for a moment before grasping her chin to lever her head up to her look at him. He kept his hand on her jaw, telling himself that it was needed to keep her subdued, while desperately trying to ignore the soft silk of her skin beneath his fingers.

 

Words of hate crowded in his throat, tumbling over themselves to escape his steel-clamped lips. His hard gaze fell onto her crimson mouth, remembering the time he meant to kill her, but became seduced by her lips instead.

 

Something primal seethed beneath his skin, howling with animal fury and desire. After everything she had done he still wanted her, after everything that had happened, he still needed to hear her breathing his name in his ear.

 

The ship rocked with another series of explosions. Bulma's eyes widened, but she remained silent. It was then that he caught a glimpse of something else in her eyes, behind the sorrow and the hint of need. It was dark, hopeless, and empty. Inevitability. The certainty that he would claim his prize, and murder her on the floor next to Zarbon, condemning her tainted soul to hell for eternity.

 

Vegeta drew back, his eyes burning with anger. His face hardened with vindictiveness, steeling his spine. Death was too easy for her. She deserved to be punished, and punish her he would.

 

“Not yet,” he vowed with dark promise, convincing her without a doubt that her blood debt would still be paid, when he deemed it so, and not a second before then. He wrapped his fingers possessively around her slender wrist, pulling her away from the corpse of her soul that lay intertwined with the body of her victim on the cold steel floor, and down the hall towards freedom.