Ashes of Devotion

Breaking Daniel

The night was colder than usual. The damp air clung to Daniel’s skin as he walked the familiar path away from the brothel, his boots clicking against the cobblestone street. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, though he knew it wasn’t the cold that unsettled him. It was something else. Something clawing at the edges of his mind.

He had always been good at suppressing emotions, at burying them deep beneath layers of arrogance and detachment. But tonight, as he wandered through the dimly lit streets, a strange unease settled in his chest. He tried to shake it off, telling himself it was nothing more than exhaustion, but it gnawed at him like a festering wound.

His feet led him to a familiar alley, one he had taken countless times after nights of indulgence. He leaned against the rough brick wall, exhaling sharply, forcing his thoughts into order. What is wrong with me tonight? he wondered. But even as he tried to dismiss it, memories from his past crept in, unbidden, threatening to unravel him.

His childhood had been one of deprivation and hardship. He could still hear his father’s gruff voice, reminding him that survival was earned, not given. The bruises on his skin, the hunger in his stomach, the exhaustion that settled in his bones, he had learned to endure, to push forward no matter the cost. He had learned to never be weak. Weakness meant punishment. Weakness meant failure.

But something about tonight was different. The weight on his chest felt heavier than before, the loneliness sharper. He had spent years convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone, that love was a luxury for fools. But now, standing alone in the cold, he wasn’t so sure.

Then, from the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Drinking, fighting, fornicating. That’s all you do, isn’t it?”

Daniel’s body tensed as he turned, his sharp eyes narrowing in the darkness. He recognized the voice before he even saw the face. Liam. His childhood friend. His rival. The only man who had ever managed to get under his skin.

Liam stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “What the hell are you running from, Daniel?”

Daniel scoffed, shaking his head. “You always were one for sentimental nonsense, weren’t you?”

Liam didn’t back down. “You act like you don’t care about anything, but you do. I see it. And you hate yourself for it.”

Something in Daniel snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing Liam by the collar and shoving him against the wall. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he growled.

Liam just smirked. “I know you’re scared.”

Daniel let go abruptly, stepping back as if burned. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. He wasn’t scared. He couldn’t afford to be.

But then the memories came rushing in, the nights spent hungry as a child, the beatings from his father when he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, obedient enough. The loneliness. The desperation. The overwhelming need to prove himself to a world that had never wanted him.

He clenched his fists, forcing the memories back. “I don’t need this,” he muttered, turning to leave.

Liam’s voice followed him. “One day, Daniel, you won’t be able to outrun yourself.”

The words haunted him long after he had disappeared into the night. He returned to his quarters, pouring himself another drink, but even the burn of whiskey couldn’t drown out the unease in his chest. He slammed the glass down onto the wooden table, frustration boiling over. He had built himself into a man who did not feel. A man who did not care. So why, after all these years, did it suddenly feel like that armor was cracking?

He had known war, had seen death, had fought battles that others would never recover from. Yet nothing had ever shaken him like the realization that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as untouchable as he thought. He wasn’t immune to longing. He wasn’t immune to regret.

His head throbbed as he sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand over his face. He could still hear Liam’s voice in his mind, accusing, taunting. You hate yourself for it.

Maybe he did.

For the first time in years, Daniel felt something he had long since tried to kill.

Doubt.

And that terrified him more than anything else.