Restraint was not a word in her vocabulary. Not a word she remembered nor could begin to embody. For the most part, this new role she'd taken on involved following Katherine Pierce around like a puppy, taking orders and feasting on passersby. The two mostly did not speak. Katherine put weapons in her hand, instructed her on where to point them, and disappeared. Sometimes, she stuck around long enough to remind Kaya exactly why the people they hurt deserved it. But Kaya didn't need much convincing. Both humans and the supernatural had let her down. Her mother, dying in a sacrifice Kaya had never asked for. Her father, being so fragile when he needed to be strong, when he needed to remain alive. Ingrid, failing to fight off the mind control, and Theo, letting her down at every possible turn. None of it mattered anymore. Not really. Not unless she dwelled on it—and she did everything she could not to dwell on anything.
The curling darkness in her chest distracted the tribrid from most pain. Without it, turning her humanity off alone wouldn't have done a damn thing. The emotions were too strong, and there were far too many of them, creeping in from all angles. Family and loves lost, friendships broken, and the loneliness—the loneliness, most of all. It wasn't unlike returning to town after the one year stint away with Hope and Ingrid. But at least then, they'd been by her side. They'd screwed up together. This was different. This was suffocating loneliness, with no one to turn to. On top of that, the demonic aspect of her identity swirled, summoning a rage that mixed well with her wolf side and a hunger that drove the vampire inside crazy. As Katherine had put it, she was a perfect killing machine. The perfect closed-loop. Self-cannibalizing on the pain and the anger and the sadness. Using it to feed the monster.
The girl beneath hardly existed anymore. And nothing mattered. No really. She did what The Collective told her to. She spent time with Theo. But none of it made her feel anything. It was all simply entertainment to pass the time. She did not love Theo, did not take joy in the killing. Or maybe she did. A false joy, at least. Something to pass the time. As warm blood slid down her throat, it did occur to her that she liked this. But even liking something wasn't the same as it used to be. It made her smile cold and distant, but she wasn't happy. It was satisfaction. Being able to take and therefore taking. Anything she wanted. Whenever she wanted. It was the satisfaction of having Theo, even if she didn't love him. It was the satisfaction of hurting Hope, of getting the last laugh, of being feared. And there was nothing left inside to make her second-guess the nature of those thoughts.
The voice immediately sounded familiar. But it couldn't have been Oliver. He might as well have been dead, the way he'd left, too. All at once, she'd lost every adult in her life. All the people who cared about her enough to tell her she was being an idiot. And, as it turned out, she was not great without supervision. Without love and friendship. And she was so easy to lead astray. Maybe that was his fault. It felt easier to blame him. But when he pulled her away from the woman, almost dead, she whimpered—craving the last drops of blood he'd taken. And she almost lashed out. Almost reached out to shove the huge man away from her. Despite the size difference, she could have done it. In stopping herself, the crack formed. Then he spoke. I'm sorry. It widened, and everything began to fall out, and her eyes searched his fast, running through memories and all the moments she wished he'd been there for, and she was struggling to shove all the feelings falling out of her chest back in, because they were starting to overwhelm her, and she couldn't handle that right now, probably would never be able to handle it again, but she could only look at him, with lips half parted. "You're here," she said, numb and soft, devoid of tone but full of crackling emotion only a few steps away. "Why?"
