Destroy Me Gently:Ex-Enemy Becomes My Lover!
Chapter 18: Monster you made

Chapter 18: Monster you made

Chapter EIGHTEEN

**Kieran Morrison**

I spent the next several days at the parties with Vince - underground fights, rich kids getting wasted in penthouses, the kind of shit that made my parents’ fake world look even more pathetic. At least there, nobody pretended to give a damn about anything.

The alcohol burned, the fights bled real blood, and for a few hours I could forget about green eyes and broken promises.

But it was only delaying the inevitable. I couldn’t avoid going home forever.

It was past miday when I finally returned to our mansion. I expected the house to be empty, my parents either visiting some friends or pretending I didn’t exist like usual.

Instead, I found Mom sitting on the sofa, perfectly posed even at this hour. A magazine dangled from her manicured fingers, a steaming mug in her other hand. Like she was staging a photo shoot called "Concerned Mother Waiting Up."

Her eyes snapped to me the moment I walked in, and I saw the fury she was barely containing behind that practiced smile.

"Finally," she said, her voice saccharine sweet but with an edge sharp enough to cut. "You weren’t returning my calls, so I thought maybe you’d finally run away for good this time."

The passive-aggressive bullshit hit me immediately. "Would that make your life easier?"

Her smile faltered for just a second before she plastered it back on. "Don’t be ridiculous, Kieran. I was worried sick."

"Right." I started heading for the stairs. "Worried enough to actually come home instead of staying in Milan for another month."

"I came home early specifically because of you," she snapped, the sweet act finally cracking. "Because your school called me. Multiple times."

I stopped on the first step, my hand gripping the railing. "Yeah? And what did they say?"

She stood up abruptly, her magazine hitting the floor. "They said my son has been skipping classes for days. That you’ve been getting into fights. That you’re turning into some kind of delinquent!"

"Maybe I learned from the best," I said coldly, turning to face her. "You and Dad have been avoiding responsibility for years."

Her face flushed red. "How dare you! Everything we do is for you! The work, the travel, the sacrifices—"

"Sacrifices?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "What sacrifices? You mean choosing your career over your dead daughter’s funeral? Or maybe missing every birthday, every school event, every single fucking thing that mattered?"

"Don’t you dare bring Ginny into this!" Her voice rose to a shriek. "Don’t you dare use your sister’s death to justify your behavior!"

Something dark and violent twisted in my chest. "Why not? You’ve been using it as an excuse to abandon your remaining kid for eight years."

The slap came so fast I almost didn’t see it coming. The sound echoed through the marble foyer like a gunshot.

I touched my cheek, feeling the sting, and something cold settled over me. "Feel better now?"

Her hand was shaking, her carefully applied makeup starting to run. "You... you’re just like your father. Cold. Cruel. Impossible to reach."

"Good," I said quietly. "At least I’m consistent."

"That’s it." Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "I’ve had enough of this attitude, Kieran. If you think you can just do whatever you want, skip school, get into fights, disrespect me in my own home—"

"Your home?" I stepped closer, towering over her. "When’s the last time you spent more than a week here? When’s the last time you even pretended to be a mother?"

"I’m more of a mother than you deserve!" she screamed, all pretense of control gone. "You ungrateful, selfish brat! Do you know what your father suggested? Do you know what I’m seriously considering?"

I stared at her blankly. "What?"

"Boarding school. Switzerland. Military discipline. Maybe some structure will beat this attitude out of you since clearly nothing else has worked!"

The words hit harder than her slap. Send me away? Away from here? Away from...

Never.

"You wouldn’t fucking dare," I growled.

"Watch me," she said, her voice turning icy calm again. "Keep this up, and you’ll be on a plane by the end of the month. See how you like having real consequences for once."

The rage that exploded in my chest was so intense I couldn’t see straight. Everything went red around the edges. The thought of being sent away, of leaving everything behind, of not being able to...

I couldn’t finish that thought. Wouldn’t let myself.

"Go ahead," I said, my voice deadly quiet. "Send me away. Prove once and for all that you never gave a shit about either of your kids."

She flinched like I’d hit her. "Kieran—"

"No." I turned and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "We’re done here."

"This conversation isn’t over!" she called after me.

I slammed my bedroom door so hard the walls shook, cutting off whatever else she was going to say. The sound of her voice, the threats, the fake concern - it all made me want to put my fist through something.

I ripped off my shirt and threw it across the room, then stalked to the bathroom. I cranked the shower to scalding and stepped under the spray, letting the water burn away the feeling of her slap, the memory of her words.

Switzerland. Boarding school. Like I was some problem to be shipped off and forgotten.

The water ran pink as it washed away the blood on my knuckles from the underground fights. But it couldn’t wash away the rage, the helplessness, the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control.

Fuck staying home. I’d rather face school than spend another minute in this house with her.

At least at school, I had control over something.

At least at school, I could find Oliver.

-

-

By the time I got to school, first period was almost over. I didn’t give a shit about being late. I had bigger problems to worry about.

The hallway was buzzing with some kind of commotion. Students were crowded around something near the lockers, and the energy felt wrong. Excited. Bloodthirsty.

I pushed through the crowd, and what I saw made every predatory instinct I had flare to life, hot and vicious.

Oliver was on the ground, blood trickling from his nose. Some asshole I barely recognized - Marcus something - was standing over him, fist raised for another punch. William was trying to get to Oliver, but three other guys were holding him back.

"Let me go! Get off him!" William was screaming, struggling against the hands restraining him.

The sight of Oliver hurt, bleeding, defenseless on the ground, triggered something primitive and violent in my chest. Something that roared MINE with such intensity it drowned out everything else.

How dare this piece of shit touch what was mine to break?

I moved without thinking, shoving through the remaining people in my way. Marcus was bringing his fist down toward Oliver’s face when I grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him backward with enough force to send him stumbling.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" I snarled, my voice low and deadly.

Marcus turned around, probably ready to fight whoever had interrupted his fun, but when he saw me, his face went pale.

"Kieran, man, we were just—"

I didn’t let him finish. My fist connected with his jaw with a sickening crack, and he went down hard.

But I wasn’t done. Not even close.

The rage that had been building all morning, all week, all these fucking years, finally had a target. I dropped down and grabbed Marcus by his shirt, hauling him up just enough to hit him again.

"You think you can touch him?" I growled, hitting him again. "You think you have the right?"

Marcus tried to fight back, tried to block my punches, but I was bigger, stronger, and absolutely fucking furious. Blood was streaming from his nose now, matching Oliver’s, but it wasn’t enough.

Even I had never dared to touch Oliver’s face. How dare this bastard think he could?

I was completely lost in the violence, in the satisfaction of hearing Marcus scream, of feeling his bones give way under my fists. The crowd around us was screaming, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater.

"Kieran, stop! You’re going to kill him!" Someone was yelling, but I didn’t care.

This piece of shit had touched Oliver. Had hurt him. Had made him bleed.

Hands grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me off, but I shoved them away without even looking. Nothing was going to stop me from beating this asshole into the ground.

"Kieran!" Heath’s voice cut through the red haze. "Stop! The principal’s coming!"

I hit Marcus one more time, satisfied when his head snapped back and more blood sprayed across the floor. He wasn’t moving anymore, just lying there in a pool of his own blood, barely conscious.

Good.

I stood up slowly, my knuckles raw and bloody, my chest heaving. The hallway had gone dead silent except for Marcus’s labored breathing and someone sobbing.

That’s when I saw him.

Principal Johnson was standing at the end of the hallway, his face white with shock as he took in the scene. Marcus covered in blood. Oliver still on the ground, staring up at me with wide, terrified eyes. William frozen in place, no longer struggling against his captors.

And me, standing over Marcus like some kind of predator who’d just defended his territory.

"What in God’s name is going on here?!" Principal Johnson’s voice echoed through the hallway.

I looked down at Oliver one more time, something twisting in my chest at the fear in his green eyes. Even when I’d hurt him, he’d never looked at me like this.

He was finally getting it.

To see the monster I was.​​​​