Chapter 146: Cathartic Hollow
"Won’t you marry me before the world ends?"
April went completely quiet, staring at him blankly. She had heard his proposals over and over and she never thought differently about them each time.
Even now, it made no difference to her that he was seeking marriage our as a joke or a means to possess her endless potential as a seer.
She let out a slow, heavy sigh. She didn’t even bother to address the absurdity of the proposal anymore. "Nat, just hold him still and let me give him the next vial."
Nat chuckled deeply, a rich, rumbling sound vibrating in his chest. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."
He easily pinned the trembling, motionless Cai against the car, allowing April to pour the final drops of the spring down his throat, leaving him physically flawless but mentally shattered on the floor.
Once that was done, Nat reached into his pocket and handed her a crisp, white handkerchief.
Just as April reached out to take it, his fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, halting her movements. He looked down at her, his wild eyes burning with an intense, unwavering focus.
"So, how about it?" he murmured, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips. "You still haven’t given me a response."
April looked down at his grip on her wrist, entirely unbothered. "You already know what I’ll say. I can never take you seriously when you propose marriage at every turn."
Just then, her phone rang loudly, vibrating in her pocket. Nat stared at her for another second before slowly letting her arm go, chuckling softly under his breath.
"Yeah, you’re right," he muttered, stepping back and running a hand through his vibrant red hair. "I need to show some actual level of sincerity first, right?"
April narrowed her eyes at his comment but turned away to take out her phone and check the glowing screen. The caller ID read Xavier Reed. She slid the bar to answer, placing the device to her ear.
"Miss April," Xavier’s deep, smooth voice came through the line, carrying a distinct layer of controlled tension. "I am calling to make sure everything is fine. I hadn’t heard from you after you decided to reschedule, and I have just arrived back at the estate. The maids informed me you left hours ago."
"I’m fine," April replied flatly, her voice completely calm despite the ruined sports car and the traumatized man sitting a few feet away. "I’m currently with Nat."
She used his first name casually, completely unaware of the sudden, heavy silence that instantly fell over the other end of the line.
On the other side of the city, Xavier’s grip tightened on his own phone, his brows furrowing deeply at the sudden, unexpected familiarity between the untouchable seer and the underworld boss.
"Nat..." Xavier murmured softly, the name tasting foreign and entirely unwelcome on his tongue. He paused for a split second, deliberately dismissing his own rising thoughts to maintain his composure. "Have you had dinner?"
"Yes," April said, looking over at the G-Wagon. "And I’ll be back soon. I’m tired."
"Alright," he said and cut the call.
April lowered her phone and said to Nat. "I think we can go now."
...
The door of the G-Wagon clicked shut, sealing them inside the quiet luxury of the leather interior. April sank into the passenger seat, letting out a long, slow sigh.
As the silence of the cabin settled around them, a sudden, uncontrollable tremor rippled through her hands.
She clamped them tightly together in her lap, but the shivering didn’t stop. She had killed zombies before—countless numbers of them—and she had witnessed horrific violence in her past life. She has even watched an innocent civilian being beaten to death by scavengers.
But she had never manually dismantled a living human being like that, feeling the heavy, solid reverberations of cracking bone travel up her own arms through the metal handle of a bat.
It wasn’t a feeling of guilt or self-disgust; it was cathartic hollow. It was a strange kind of emptiness.
She had vied for this exact retribution for when she would meet him again. It has been dancing at the back of her mind, along with the questions she would never find the answers to.
Yet now that it was done, now that she had crossed a line she had never stepped over before and the chemical rush of adrenaline was rapidly evaporating from her system, the reality of it felt entirely anticlimactic.
The vengeance felt naught. It was exhausting, almost unimpressive, and it left a strange, metallic taste of sickness in the back of her throat. She was only human, after all, and the reality of a long-awaited vengeance rarely matched the grand metrics of the fantasy.
Nat noticed the slight, persistent vibration of her shoulders. He casually shifted the car into gear, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
"You’ll get used to it," he said, his deep voice smooth and entirely unbothered as the engine roared to life.
April turned her head, her dark eyes reflecting the dim green lights of the dashboard. "Why would I ever want to get used to beating someone until they are completely mangled and broken?" She asked.
Nat let out a low, rough chuckle, smoothly turning the steering wheel to guide the massive G-Wagon out of the desolate concrete garage and into the night. "Well, sweetheart, because humans are selfish and scared creatures. As such, they do dumb and foolish things such as betraying the ones around them." He turned his head fully to look at her. "And when life gives you traitors... you give them the bat. It’s basic survival math."
He didn’t know the history that she had with that man, what he had done to her willingly or unwillingly, but he saw enough.
He saw the hate burning in her eyes as she pushed her body beyond its limits. He saw that burning hate mixed with an unsaid desperation.
He saw so many things that he’s seen from other people when they’re faced with the betrayal of the one person who they thought they could trust their back to. The stab hurts a lot more because they didn’t expect it.
He didn’t want to poke—He tapped his index finger on the leather grip of the steering wheel—And he would never pry. She had gotten her revenge, and that was all that mattered.