Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

36. Mara

36

MARA

M y heart thrashes against my ribcage. The sword in my hand feels like an extension of my fury. Its weight is a testament to the years of pain and suffering I've endured at Wlloza's hands. His eyes widen in shock, the reality of his impending doom slowly dawning on him. My voice, though trembling, carries the weight of my resolve as I utter the words that seal his fate.

"This... is for everything you’ve done," I cry out.

The blade slices through the air, its path unerring, a deadly arc that ends with the wet thud of Wlloza's arm hitting the ground. Blood paints the air, a macabre display of justice, and splatters across my face.

I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my hand. My hands shake, not from fear, but from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I feel alive, electrified by the taste of vengeance. I am power incarnate, a force of nature that will not be denied.

With a snarl, I raise the sword again, my gaze locked on Wlloza's writhing form. But before I can strike, Lazir's hand closes around my wrist, his grip firm yet gentle.

"You don’t have to do this, Mara. Let us handle it," he says, his voice soft but firm.

His voice is a soft whisper in the chaos, a beacon of reason in the storm of my rage. Calo steps forward, his eyes pleading with me to stop.

"You’ve already won. Don’t let him take more from you," he whispers softly.

Garron's rumbling voice joins the chorus, his words a quiet balm against my wounded soul.

"But if you must, we’ll stand with you," he reassures.

Their faces blur through the tears of anger and sorrow that cloud my vision. I know they mean well, that they only want to protect me from the darkness that threatens to consume me. But they don't understand—this isn't just about revenge. It's about closure, about laying to rest the ghosts of my past.

I shake my head, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I have to do this."

Garron nods, a silent vow that they will support me, no matter what. He moves to Wlloza, his boot pressing down on the dark elf's chest, pinning him in place.

"Do what you need to do," he mutters.

The world seems to hold its breath as I step forward, the sword's edge hungry for retribution. My heart aches with the memory of Diane, her laughter, her warmth, her unwavering loyalty—all stolen by this monster at my feet.

"This is for my best friend!" I yell out.

The blade bites into Wlloza's leg, the resistance of muscle and bone giving way to the relentless force of my anger. The first strike is messy, the cut jagged and incomplete, and a fresh wave of fury washes over me. I scream, my voice a raw, primal sound that echoes into the night, as I swing the sword again and again, each strike a testament to the love and loss that have shaped me.

Wlloza's cries of agony are a symphony to my ears, a reminder that he is no longer the untouchable master, but a broken, bleeding mortal. I slice his other arm, his ear, each severed piece of him a symbol of the justice I've been denied for so long.

"You’ll die here. Bleed out like the monster you are. Let the animals feast on you, just like you let her die," I spew out.

My words hang in the air, a dark cloud that settles over the scene of carnage. The sword slips from my bloodied fingers, its purpose fulfilled, its thirst quenched. My chest heaves as I struggle to draw breath, the weight of what I've done pressing down on me.

Garron's arms wrap around me, a steadying presence that guides me back from the brink of madness. His voice is a gentle murmur against my ear, a soothing balm to the ragged edges of my soul.

"It’s done. Let’s go," he says gently.

I collapse against him, my body sagging with exhaustion. The battle is over, the monster slain, but the victory feels hollow. The ghosts of my past may finally be at rest, but the scars they've left behind will remain with me forever.

As we leave the courtyard, the sounds of Wlloza's dying breaths growing fainter with each step, I realize that this isn't the end I'd envisioned. The thirst for revenge that has driven me for so long has been sated, but it has left me changed, marked by the brutality of my journey.

When we approach the edge of the estate, Lazir stops me abruptly and pulls me closer to him. His hands cradle my face, his touch a lifeline in the turbulent sea of my emotions. His eyes, a deep, soulful amber, hold mine captive as he speaks. "You’re incredible," he says, his voice a soft reverberation in the quiet. "Your intelligence, your courage... I admire everything about you."

His words wash over me, a benediction, a validation of the trials I've overcome. When his lips meet mine, it's a promise—a silent vow of solidarity, of shared pain and triumph. The kiss is deep, yet infinitely tender, as if he's trying to gentle the beast within me. I melt into him, my lips parting to welcome the sanctuary of his embrace.

As Lazir and I break apart, Calo's touch is next. His hands rest on my shoulders, grounding me in the here and now. His eyes search mine, reflecting a deep-seated admiration that makes my heart flutter.

"Your resilience is unmatched, Mara," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving mine. "You’ve been through hell and still stand tall."

There's a reverence in his voice that tugs at something within me—a delicate thread woven from the shared experiences that have bound us together. His lips find mine, a gentle exploration that speaks of his awe and respect for the journey I've undertaken. The kiss is sweet, a healing balm that soothes the ragged edges of my spirit.

And then there's Garron, his presence a dominant force that demands attention. His hands come and grip my waist, a possessive gesture that sends shivers down my spine. There's a wildness to his kiss. His lips are firm, unyielding, and the passion behind the gesture ignites a fire deep within me.

"Your strength inspires me," he growls, his voice a low rumble that resonates in the depths of my soul. "You’ve given us more than we could ever ask for."

A faint smile tugs at the corners of my lips, the tears that have marred my face throughout this ordeal now drying under the warmth of their affection. I am overwhelmed by their declarations, each word a precious gift that bolsters my spirit.

"You’ve shared your strength with me," I whisper. "I couldn’t have done this without all of you."

In the arms of these minotaurs, I find a sense of safety and belonging that I never thought possible. They have seen me at my most vulnerable, witnessed the depths of my rage, and yet, they stand by me.

In this moment, enveloped by their love and support, I understand the true meaning of strength—not as a solitary force, but as a collective power, forged from hardship and nurtured by the bonds of unwavering devotion.

As we leave the estate grounds, the haunting spectacle of Wlloza's downfall fading into the distance, I know that this is only the beginning. Together, we will forge a new path—one illuminated by the enduring flame of our shared purpose.