The Arms Dealer Gave My Only Antidote To Her Chapter 08

The Arms Dealer Gave My Only Antidote To Her Chapter 08

He hung up and dialed his assistant. His voice was arctic.

disappear from this planet. Forever.”

“Get rid of Tessa Miller. Make her

Then he looked back at Sloane in his arms. His eyes turned gentle enough to break. And completely

hopeless.

“Slo, she won’t bother us anymore.”

“Wake up. Please.”

Only silence answered.

Three days later, Declan ignored Sloane’s last wish. He didn’t scatter her ashes. Instead, he had an exquisite urn carved from the finest stone and put her ashes inside. He kept it with him day and night.

He fired all the staff. Wiped every trace of Tessa from the estate. Turned it back into the way it was when they first fell in love.

He stopped running his arms business. Left everything to his men. Every day he sat in the bedroom, talking to Sloane’s urn.

“Slo, happy eight-year anniversary, babe. Got you your favorite white roses. Look how pretty they are.”

“Slo, I sent someone out to the Maldives. They got a ton of pictures of that blue water. See? Just like you always pictured.”

“Slo, I put our wedding pictures back together. Hung them on the wall. Look at us. We were so good together.”

“Slo… I miss you so damn much. Just come back. Please.”

He wasted away to nothing. Dark circles, bloodshot eyes. The fierce arms king was

gone. Just a broken man living in regret, drowning in missing her.

He often sat at the vanity and stared at his reflection, almost seeing Sloane’s smiling face in the mirror.

He thought about the Zippo she’d ruined her hands to buy. The night she carried him through the jungle. The last time she lay in her own blood, begging him to save her.

Regret wrapped around him like vines, strangling him.

He finally understood that when Sloane asked “if I die because of this, will you regret it?”-it wasn’t a game, wasn’t a trick. It was her last cry of despair.

And he’d used his coldest silence to push her into death.

One month later, Declan took Sloane’s urn to the Pacific Coast near Big Sur.

He stood on the shore, watching the endless blue water. Waves crashed against the rocks, a low sound like Sloane’s soft voice used to be.

He crouched down, opened the urn, and touched the fine ash with his fingers. Tears fell soundlessly into the sea. Gone.

“Slo, you wanted your ashes in this water. I couldn’t say no to that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time. I’m sorry you had to hurt so much.”

“I messed up in this life. Next life, I’ll find you sooner. I’ll give you all the tenderness I owe you. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”

He raised his hand and let the white ash scatter in the wind, over the blue water, dissolving

into the waves. Gone.

Just like Sloane. Gone from his life without a trace.

Declan stood on the shore, not moving, from sunrise to sunset. The wind pulled at his shirt. He looked like a statue guarding the blue water. Guarding the woman he’d lost forever.

Later, people in the business said the arms king Declan Kane had lost his mind.

He gave up all his power and wealth. Built a small cabin by the sea near Big Sur. Every day he stares at the ocean and talks to the air, calling her name.

He never smiles anymore. He’s never soft with anyone. His eyes are nothing but hollow emptiness and regret.

The desert won’t give you peace. And some obsessions never let go.

He’ll spend his whole life paying for what he did to Sloane. But the debt will never be paid.

The woman who walked through his darkness, who loved him until her bones were dust-she’s still gone, frozen in that cold night, frozen in the regret he can never fix.

The waves keep talking. Telling a story of a love that came too late. And a loss that can never be

undone.