Chapter 33 The Diamond
I’ve never seen Zade indecisive before. Not until now, while he picks apart every iota of my expression to determine if he should let me touch him.
Then, like a monster tearing through flesh, his beast takes over. He seizes me by the jaw, bringing my face close to his.
“You think you’re ready for me? Let’s see how far you’re willing to go to please me.”
He lifts me off him, setting me to the side, then stands, pausing to look down at me with an unreadable expression. His face is smoothed into cold marble.
Turning away, he walks to a black chair a few feet in front of me. He sits there some nights if he can’t sleep, waiting and watching for a nightmare to arise—always watching me.
Next to the chair is a little table where a glass and a canter of whiskey sits. He pours himself three fingers and then sits back in the chair, widening his knees with his arm hanging over the side, the glass held by the tips of his fingers.
He eyes me, taking a sip of his whiskey before resuming his position.
“Crawl to me,” he orders, his voice as rough as lava rock, yet as enticing as the spiced whiskey he swallowed. “Show me how pretty you are begging on your knees for my cock.”
My stomach tightens with heat, and I feel my thighs growing slicker.
I make a split-second decision and grab the rose, and place it between my teeth, reveling in the small stings on my lips from the thorns.
Copper blooms on my tongue as I heed his orders, crawling on my hands and knees with his precious rose in my mouth, hips and breasts swaying sensually.
His eyes light up, and his nostrils flare. The cool demeanor slips, and raw desire bleeds through the cracks.
When I reach him, I kneel and set the rose on my lap.
“Was that pretty enough for you?”
He chuckles and finishes off his whiskey, setting the glass down on the table.
“You’re so fucking beautiful; I want to cut the eyes from those who get the privilege to look at you,” he rasps, licking his lips predatorily.
He sits up enough to pull the shirt over his head, baring himself completely. My mouth waters at the sight of him and I feel my skin flush all over again from how sinfully delicious he looks.
Something about tanned skin covered in black tattoos… Jesus Christ, thank you, She-Devil for inventing a man like Zade.
My eyes linger on the scar cutting through his abs, and I decide that I want to be as strong as Zade. A man who has faced death with a smile on his face countless times, only for him to turn around and do it again. Over and over.
Gently, I drift my fingers across the crimson handprint streaked across his stomach, intoxicated by the sight of him twitching beneath me. The tension condenses until it feels like I’m wading through lava.
My jaw is in his hand again within seconds, his thumb smearing the dots of blood along my lips.
“I want to see this blood all over my cock,” he murmurs. “Take off my belt.”
Heeding his command, the metal clings as my fingers deftly undo the buckle, and memories surface of him wrapping this belt around my neck as he fucked my mouth.
I want that again, but I know I’m not quite ready for it yet.
He releases my jaw as I make quick work of his button and zipper, delighting in the sound of metal teeth breaking apart for me. His cock bursts free before I finish unzipping, and this time, my mouth dries.
Somehow, I’ve forgotten how intimidating his size is.
Licking my lips, I grab the rose, spread my knees, and glide the soft petals through my slit again, once more soaking them with my arousal.
He watches me closely as I sit up, and drag the stem across his hip slowly, the sharp thorns biting into his sensitive flesh. He hisses between his teeth, his eyes flashing viciously.
Trapping my bloody lip between my teeth, I trail the petals alongside the ridge of his cock, delighting in the way his stomach clenches. Veins protrude from his length, and I follow them up to the tip with the flower, coating him in my wetness.
“Addie,” he warns when I slide it down to his balls, causing him to tense. My lips curl mischievously as I lean forward and place a soft kiss on his cock, staring up at him beneath my lashes with a sultry look.
He growls, and his patience snaps. He’s fisting my hair and leaning forward, his sharp words rumbling in my ear, “Do you want to trade places and make me beg on my knees? I’ve waited so long to feel your mouth wrapped around my cock, little mouse, and I would do terrible things for you if that’s what it takes.”
“Patience, baby,” I whisper, my pussy throbbing when he groans. He becomes so malleable from a simple endearment, and once more, that sense of power flares.
Flattening my palm on his chest, I push him back, his body strung tight.
Keeping our gazes locked, I dart my tongue out and lick around the tip of his cock, watching his lips pull into a snarl and his eyes blaze. He never looks human when he’s inside of me.
I focus on him, blocking out the voices before they can truly enter, and holding on to the sight of Zade melting like ice beneath me. That vision gives me the control I so desperately need, and I realize it’s so much easier to stay in the present when I have something to savor: Zade at my mercy.
I take him deeper into my mouth, sliding my tongue along the ridge and pulling a mixture of a groan and a growl from him.
His fingers drift into my hair, weaving through the strands and holding tight. Moans fall past his lips, spurring me on. I hollow out my cheeks, sucking him deeper until the tip hits the back of my throat. Even then, I don’t let up, holding back a gag until tears leak from my eyes.
For a few moments, I hold on until I can’t anymore, gagging a little and retreating until he pops free, a trail of red-tinted saliva clinging to my bottom lip.
Just like he wanted, the blood from my mouth is smeared down his length, and a sick thought flashes in my mind.
I understand why Xavier liked it so much.
“Keep sucking,” he hisses, pulling me out of my head. Breathing in deep, I hold my breath as I swallow him once more, tears welling in my eyes from the sheer size of him.
His hand grabs the nape of my neck to keep me still while he pumps his hips, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest.
My pussy throbs in response, and embarrassingly enough, I almost want to cry. I was convinced I’d always be broken, never being able to touch or be touched. But giving Zade pleasure doesn’t make me feel weak and helpless like I thought it would. To see him lose himself in my mouth makes me feel like a queen sitting upon her throne.
He needs me so fucking bad in this moment and knowing I can take it away… my thighs clench to abate the ache growing between them.
He fucks my mouth savagely, saliva spilling past my lips in which I use my hand to spread up and down his length, his teeth gnashing in response.
I come up for air, trails of spit connecting his dick to my mouth.
“Stick out that tongue for me, baby.”
I do as he says without regard, peering at him through my wet lashes.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he rasps. He grabs the base of his cock and slaps it on my tongue a few times, his brows pinched, and mouth parted.
A beast and a god twisted together, forming something wholly unnatural.
And I realize, I never needed to be afraid of his touch. It was men that defiled me, and Zade was never a man.
I tug against his hold in my hair, but he resists, fisting the strands tighter.
He lifts his other hand and drags his thumbs roughly over the underside of my eyes, smearing mascara down my cheeks.
His chest rumbles, and his voice is guttural when he says, “You look like such a pretty whore for me.”
A flash of anger ignites inside of me, and he only smiles in response. He jerks my head closer to him. The tip of his cock brushes against my breasts, and his eyes fall, a spark flaring in his gaze. By the time he drags his eyes up to me, I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“You were never a whore for those men, little mouse. You know why?”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because they never owned any part of you. They took what they did not possess. That doesn’t make you a whore; that makes you a survivor.”
A sheen of tears wells over my eyes. I drop them to conceal the weakness, but he jerks my head up, refusing to let me hide.
A devilish grin quirks his lips up. “But you are my whore. You’re my everything, and you become so much more with each passing day. I possess every fucking part of you, Adeline. Even when you screamed and cried that you didn’t want me, you could never let me go. All those nights you stood at your window, letting me watch you. Confronting me instead of running and instigating me knowing what would happen. And when you did run, you only ever used your mouth to try and get away. You gravitated towards me, just as I did you. And that is something no other man will ever have.”
He’s right. I never did act appropriately to him stalking me.
There’s no denying how contradicting it is to assault and stalk a woman when you’re trying to save others from the same thing. Nor is there denying how despite these things, there’s a twisted part of me that has always liked it. It was never about my body succumbing to him, but my soul, too.
Xavier wanted from me what only Zade could accomplish. He wanted my body to reveal a hidden truth and show him that our connection ran deeper than flesh on flesh. And when the only truth he found was that I would never want him, he grew angry and desperate.
That was a truth only Zade could uncover.
Like attracted to like—his darkness to mine. I was running from it while he was forcing me to see who I really am.
Zade and I—we don’t make sense to the outside world. Barely even in my own head. Yet I’m finding it hard to care anymore. I won’t ever justify what Zade has done to me, but I do forgive him. Not only that, but I accept him.
He told me before that he wanted me to fall in love with the darkest parts
of him, and I have.
Every fucked-up piece of him.
Sensing the resolve, he jerks my head again. “Spit on my cock, baby. Get it nice and wet for me.”
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I stick out my tongue, letting the saliva pool before dripping off the tip and right onto his cock.
“Can never be too wet, can you, kitty cat?” I say coyly, echoing his words back to him from our first encounter.
He grins, the act damning to my soul. Lifting his hand, he thumbs my bottom lip harshly.
“Keep it up, little mouse. This sharp tongue isn’t the only thing capable of getting me wet. I could come just thinking about my cock covered in your blood.”
I bite my lip, a shot of fear pulsing through my system from his dangerous tone. A shiver rolls down my spine, hitting each vertebra on the
way down.
It feels fucking glorious.
I rub my spit up and down his length, the noises crude. His eyes droop, his mouth opens as he stares at me like he’s praying I defy him.
“Good girl,” he drawls. “Now lean forward and put my dick between those beautiful tits of yours.”
Biting my lip, I do as he asks, looking up at him seductively. He may be spitting his demands, but he’s still under my mercy. Proven by the way his head tips back, a groan working through his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
He succumbs to me like the Titanic did the ocean. Indestructible— unsinkable—to everyone but me. I’m the raging sea that conquered him and sunk him to his very knees, and he was helpless to stop me.
He pistons his hips upward, and I squeeze him tighter between my breasts, tipping my chin down to let another trail of spit fall from my tongue.
The sight of his cock driving up between them has my pussy clenching, arousal spreading down my thighs. A moan of my own slips out, pulling his eyes back down to me.
“Is this making your pussy wet?” he grinds out past his teeth, punctuating it with a harsh thrust. “Moaning like a whore while watching me fuck your tits. Does it make you wish it was your pussy instead?”
“Yes,” I confess, riveted by the fierce look on his face. My heart ramps up, but I trust Zade. I trust that he knows how far to push me.
“Rub your clit, I want you to come when I do,” he orders, knocking away my hands from my breasts and replacing them with his own, squeezing them tightly around his length.
Reaching down, I swirl my finger across my clit, shuddering and grinding my hips against my hand harder.
My head begins to tip back, eyes rolling as I circle faster. Zade’s hand sharply slaps the side of my breast, and I snap my head back down in
response with a yelp.
“Eyes on me, little mouse.”
He thrusts his hips in quick, short thrusts, and I can only stare, intoxicated by the sight of a god coming undone.
“Fuck, Addie. These tits are going to be covered in my cum. You ready for me, baby?”
I nod my head frantically, my voice trapped beneath the moans spilling from my mouth.
His grip becomes bruising, but it’s hardly noticeable when my stomach is tightening, and I’m so close to falling over the edge for the second time tonight.
His hips stutter and then he’s shouting, cursing my name as streams of his seed paint my skin. I erupt in the same moment, shuddering violently and rocking against my hand riotously.
Deeper and deeper, I fall into the depths of his depravity, and I find that I never want to come out.
It takes several moments for my vision to focus and the bliss to recede.
I’m breathless and flushed by the time I come down. He reaches forward, grabbing me beneath my arms and lifting me up on his lap.
Then, he reaches over and grabs his shirt from the floor and cleans me up.
A satisfied look relaxes his face, drawing out a small smile. Until I glance down at his chest, seeing something I hadn’t noticed before.
“What is that?” I ask, my voice strangled with shock. He balls up the shirt and tosses it to the side, then locks his gaze onto mine.
“A reminder,” he answers simply.
I try to swallow, words getting stuck in my throat like dry bread.
“What did you do?” I croak. It burns my fingertips as I brush them across his most recent scar, as if he branded himself and the flesh is still sizzling.
Glaring at me is a macabre rose marring the skin directly over his heart, cutting into the old scar. A fucking rose. He carved a symbol of his love for
me into his chest.
“Why?”
His gaze sears into me with so many different emotions swirling in the mismatched pools. Regret. Shame. Guilt. Fury. All prevalent as he stares up at me like I’m a fading mirage, and he doesn’t know how to let me go.
“I told you I don’t hide from my failures,” he says softly. “What happened to you was my failure. And this serves as a reminder every day.”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. Several times, I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Zade,” I finally choke out. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Maybe not directly, but that doesn’t exempt me from blame. Max sold you out because of the bad blood between us and I should’ve killed him when he first started giving you trouble. That was my first mistake, and because of that, you were kidnapped.”
His fists clench and the muscle in his jaw thrums against his skin. Any second now, it just might burst.
“And that was my second mistake,” he rasps. “My protection wasn’t good enough. I can’t always be by your side, we both know that, but it was too easy for them to take you. I won’t make that mistake again.”
His hand drifts through the tendrils of my hair before brushing softly against the back of my neck.
“I don’t care if I need to set this world on fire until there’s no one left but you and me. The world will burn around us, and I’ll gladly live in chaos with you as long as the only person that is a danger to you is me.”
Clenching my teeth, I dig my nail into the rose. He hisses but doesn’t stop me.
“Stop taking the blame for other people being fucked in the head. You didn’t put a target on my head. You didn’t sell me out in the name of revenge and money. And you didn’t kidnap me and sell me off into the sex trade. What you did was find me and save me.”
I dig my nail in harder, a bloody crescent moon forming over the rose.
“You rescued me, and I will never forget that. And the only way I can repay you is by saving myself. Getting stronger and not letting what those sick fucks did to me control my life. I may have cracked, but they did not shatter me. My rose still has fucking thorns, Zade. Do you understand me?”
Before he can respond, I lean forward and collect the beads of blood on my tongue. Then, I slowly lick my lips, smearing the crimson around my mouth like lipstick.
His eyes zero in on the movement, his chest heaving.
“I wanted to know what it tasted like when someone else bleeds for me,”
I whisper.
He works his jaw. “I’ll always bleed for you,” he whispers before gripping my jaw in his hand and connecting his lips softly with mine, licking his blood from my lips.
“You’re still my helpless little mouse, but only when it comes to my irresistible prowess,” he says when he pulls away, gracing me with a shit- eating grin.
I close my eyes, a laugh bursting from my mouth. A single tear slips out, emotions rising up my throat. The happy vapors are back, and I hope to God they stick around for a little while this time.
“You’re such a prick.”
“No, baby, I’m just the masochist that can’t get enough of your beauty, even when you draw blood.” He glances down at the tiny droplets sprouting from where I dug my nail into his skin.
I purse my lips. “I guess I’m the prick then.”
Chapter 34 The Diamond
“Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies,” Sibby sings loudly, skipping around the three wriggling bodies strapped to their chairs. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall DOWN!” she screams, kicking the back of Rocco’s chair on the last word. She shouts it so loudly, even I jump.
I let out a long-suffering sigh. She’s been singing all damn day, taunting them to the point that Francesca has officially soiled herself.
I’ll admit—that was pretty fucking funny.
Zade let her have her fun and get as much information out of the three as possible—after she pinky swore and crossed her heart and hoped to die not to kill them. Unsurprisingly, Sibby has proven to be just as skilled with psychological torture as she is with physical. She made them want to die without even having to touch them.
I have a feeling it’s partly because of her atrocious singing, but I’m not about to tell her that.
For the past week, she’s been getting names of people who attend the Culling every year—whether they come as spectators or participants—the other traffickers who bought girls, and of course, any information Francesca and Xavier have on Claire.
“Rio Sanchez,” Sibby sings. “Still not going to tell me where he is?”
Francesca rolls her eyes, feigning an attitude to conceal just how frightened she is of a girl circling her like a hungry shark.
It’s not working.
Sibby is scary.
“I told you this already, I don’t know where he is. He helped her escape, and then he fled. That’s all I know, and frankly, I would gladly hand him over to you because I want him dead, too!” she says, her voice ending in a frustrated screech. She’s flushed bright red and panting. Anger, pain, and frustration all etched into the harsh lines in her face. Old makeup is cracked and smudging, aging her ten years.
She is so going to die with acne all over her face and I find poetic justice in that.
I roll my lips, attempting to ignore the sharp pain stabbing in the center of my chest. Anytime I think of Rio and what will happen when Zade eventually gets his hands on him… I kind of want to cry.
My feelings towards him are complicated, and I’m not sure I’ll ever truly understand them. Even more so now that I’ve met his sister and learned that the evil bitch before me was forcing him to do a lot more for her than I initially thought.
I said I wouldn’t feel guilty when Zade got ahold of him. But then he saved me. And now, I can’t say that I’ll stop Zade… but I can’t say I’ll feel nothing either.
“Do you want him dead because he helped the diamond escape, or because he betrayed you and put a crack in that icy little heart?” I ask.
Her eyes spit fire while she glowers at me.
“He was nothing more than a good fuck,” she seethes.
I bend at the waist, thinning my eyes. “Did you have to threaten to kill his sister every time you wanted him to fuck you?”
Rocco snorts, and Francesca’s head whips to him in offense. He’s pale, sweaty, and seemingly tired, but the malice in his eyes is unmistakable.
“She stopped threatening that after the first two years—and I think it’s just because he got tired of hearing it.”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screeches, her face turning a ghastly shade of purple. Doesn’t suit her complexion very well.
“No! We’re in this fucking situation because of you!” he shouts back.
“Because you couldn’t keep a handle on that stupid little bitch and refused to get rid of her. And now look!”
Francesca’s bottom lip trembles. “Sydney was worth—”
“She wasn’t worth shit!” he roars.
“She was!”
“Or she was keeping your secrets,” I cut in dryly. Francesca’s head snaps to me so quick, she nearly does herself a favor and breaks it.
“What did she tell you?” she demands, her voice cracking and eyes wild.
I shrug nonchalantly, giving nothing away. Sydney didn't tell me shit, but
Francesca doesn't need to know that.
“Sydney knew?” Rocco asks with rage.
Francesca’s eyes widen, and she turns to Rocco with desperation.
“She found out… I-I don't know how. But she threatened to tell Claire if I allowed her to be auctioned. She acted out because it was the only thing keeping her in the house and our secret safe.”
My brows knit, trying to decipher what exactly Sydney knew.
“Why didn't you just kill her?” Rocco growls through gritted teeth.
“Claire wouldn't allow me to! She forced me to deal with it as a punishment for failing to get Sydney under control,” Francesca cries, nearly pleading with her brother.
Rocco looks away, “Is that why you stopped letting people fuck them?”
Now I really am confused. Sibby and I glance at each other, and she must note my expression because she comes around and gets in Francesca’s face.
“Tell me what you were doing,” she demands. “I don't like being left out.”
Francesca snarls but quickly cowers when Sibby raises the pink knife to her eye and threatens, “I’ll cut it out and make you chew it.”
Gross.
“We were making money under the table. People would pay us for a night with one of the girls. We were making good money, too, but then Sydney found out and used it against me.”
My brows shoot up, surprised by their gall to profit off of the girls behind Claire’s back, yet not at all because—well, it's fucking Francesca and Rocco.
Even Xavier whistles and looks at them with a lopsided grin. He's just as exhausted as the other two.
“Brave thing to do. Claire would've murdered you slowly if she found out.”
Rocco scoffs. “Should've just saved us all the fucking headache and let her tell,” he spits. “She was already crazy from that fucking cult. Did you think Claire was going to actually believe her?” He ends his question with a patronizing laugh. Xavier shrugs in a you got me there way while Francesca just gapes at him.
None of them notice the frozen girl standing before them, her spine ramrod straight and shock painted on her face.
“What cult?” Sibby finally cuts in.
Francesca’s mouth opens, then closes. “I don’t know,” she sneers. “All I know is some girl killed the leader, and the entire cult disbanded after that.
Wandered aimlessly ‘cause they knew fuck all of what to do with
themselves.”
My eyes widen gradually as she speaks.
There’s no way.
“How did Sydney get to Washington?” I ask.
“How else? She was homeless and picked up off the streets from a trafficker and shipped to me to be groomed,” she answers, her tone dipped in venom. “I’m one of the best in the world, and she was a tough case. I was working on her.” She spits the last part to Rocco, flickering a scornful glare
his way.
“Sibby, did you know her?”
She turns to me, a frown tugging down her lips.
“What did she look like?”
“Blonde hair, brown eyes. Two front teeth were crooked. She had a beauty mark on the corner of her mouth, too.”
She works to swallow, but eventually nods her head. “Yeah, I knew her.
She was my sister. I mean, all the children were my siblings. Daddy was the only one allowed to get anyone pregnant…” she trails off, seemingly dumbfounded.
That… actually makes a lot of sense—Sibby and Sydney coming from the same cult. Now that I think about it, their mannerisms are very similar.
Bizarre, creepy, and their maturity stunted. They’re both murderous psychos, but at least Sibby has a heart of fucking gold, whereas Sydney’s was ashen.
Her expression drops, and she looks at me with all the seriousness in the world. “She tried to kill you? She was the one that kept hurting you?”
Thinning my lips, I nod.
“I’m sorry, Addie. It’s my fault she ever ended up there.”
Frowning, I say, “Sibby, it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” she insists. “She had nowhere to go because I killed Daddy. All of them were left alone. She would’ve never—”
I grab her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Sibby, you couldn’t have known any of that would happen. You did everyone a favor by killing that man. He was a demon, remember?”
Her lip trembles, but she nods. “Sydney was, too, and she probably smelled like a rotten egg. I’m glad you killed her.”
I peck her cheek, hoping to rid her of any lingering guilt. “Go on upstairs. You did great, and we got everything we needed. I just have one more question to ask.”
She smiles and skips up the stairs, sadness forgotten.
I train my gaze on Francesca. “What happened to Molly?”
Her brows pinch with confusion, so I clarify, “She was a captive back in 2008. She wrote in the journal, and I found it inside the floorboards in my room. I started writing in it, too. It’s actually why Sydney was going to kill me. I was planning to escape, and she found out by reading that journal.”
Her expression sours, and I can almost see the memories flicking across her gaze.
“She escaped. The first and last girl to get away… until you,” she says, muttering the last part with indigence.
A smile curls my lips, and pride fills my veins.
For Molly and for myself.
“Thank you.” Clapping my hands, causing the three of them to startle, I offer them a huge smile. “It’s time.”
Francesca’s golden-brown eyes round with confusion and fear. Not so long ago, we stood in opposite shoes. Drowning in helplessness and sorrow, wondering how this could be happening to me. There she stood, staring down at me with the same expression that I now wear.
She showed me no mercy. And I will return that favor tenfold.
Maybe she did care, but not enough to save me from herself.
“Time?” she echoes, her voice breaking.
My grin widens further, not bothering to hide just how vindictive I feel.
“For the Culling,” I supply, my voice dipped in honey and sugar. “And you, my dear, are the prey.”
Imposters syndrome—something many authors deal with from time to time. When we accomplish something we never thought possible, things we
only ever dreamed of, those are oftentimes the most difficult moments to
grapple with.
Do I deserve this?
It’s similar to what Francesca, Xavier, and Rocco look like now—staring at the tree line before Parsons Manor, feeling like an imposter in their own life.
Instead of the inability to accept their accomplishments, they’re unable to accept their fate.
Am I really so vile—so evil—that I deserve to be hunted like a fucking animal?
I could answer that, but I’d rather show them.
Zade and Sibby stand on either side of me, a crossbow hanging loosely in their hands, the cold, gleaming metal identical to mine. The heavy weight feels familiar. I’ve been practicing for this very moment.
My heartbeat pulsates in my ears, drowning out Francesca’s incessant sniveling. We’re standing behind them, the brisk air saturated with anticipation.
“You know,” I say loudly, causing her to flinch. “You would’ve beat the shit out of me if I had cried.”
She shakes her head, refusing to answer. Her head is tipped down, a mop of stringy hair falling over her shoulders and revealing how badly she’s deteriorating. Her spine is protruding from her skin, poking through the threadbare t-shirt she wears.
Xavier and Rocco stand beside her with stone in their shoulders, holding tightly on to the façade that they’re strong and brave.
Such manly men, they are.
I’d like to see if that ideology holds firm when they’re running for their lives or if they’ll die in a puddle of piss and regret.
“You three are luckier than I was. There’s no maze or traps in here for you. Just the sharp tip of our arrows.”
“And if you can’t find us? Then we get away, and you’re fucked,”
Xavier retorts pompously. He must feel so smart right now.
I smile. “You won’t get away.”
He tips up his chin, eager to prove me wrong.
“You placed several rules on me, but I’m only giving you one. You can’t escape out of the driveway. There are several armed guards stationed all the
way down. If you want out, you go all the way through and find the road.”
He stiffens, and my smile grows. Xavier thought he could cut left, run twenty feet, come out to my driveway, and escape that way. If they were going to make it hard on me, the least I can do is return the favor.
“Which one do you think is tastiest?” Sibby asks, bouncing on her toes with excitement and restlessness.
I curl my lip in disgust, wrinkling my nose. “Don’t be gross. We’re not cannibals.”
Sibby scoffs. “I would never taint my body with demon meat. We won’t be eating them, but the vultures will.”
“She’s got a way with words,” Zade says dryly, a tinge of amusement in
his tone.
That she does.
“Remember, Sibby, don’t shoot to kill. Find and bring her to one of us when she’s down,” I remind.
She grumbles in response but doesn’t argue. I want to experience all of their deaths, so just like the Culling, we’ll kill them together.
“Ready?” I call out. Francesca’s shoulders shake with sobs, but I pay her no mind.
Xavier and Rocco don’t verbally answer, but their bodies tighten.
“Run,” Zade commands, laughing when Francesca takes off and then immediately stumbles over her feet, nearly face-planting the dirt ground.
Sibby giggles, her bouncing increasing. She will be hunting Francesca, Zade will be after Rocco, and Xavier… is mine.
Zade wanted to line them up and test if he could shoot an arrow through all three of their heads at once, but I wanted them to swallow the same pill they forced down my throat. I wanted them to suffer as I did. To choke on the bitterness of having your life in someone else’s hands, just to have it thrown to the ground and fucking stomped on.
Only a monster can create another monster. And that’s exactly who I’ve become.
Sibby takes off after Francesca, a nursery rhyme echoing across the forest. Zade takes a step forward, then pauses to glance back at me, only the scar slashing through his white eye and the side of his mouth visible beneath the black hood.
“You look absolutely divine dressed in wolves’ clothing, but don’t think I won’t tear them from your body the second he’s dead. Enjoy your hunt, little mouse. You won’t be the only predator on the loose.”
Warmth spreads throughout my stomach, dropping low just as his eyes do, giving me one last heated look before turning and taking off after Rocco.
I’ve told him some of the things Francesca’s lovely brother has done to me. By the time the last breath leaves his body, he won’t have a drop of blood left inside him. And for the first time, I’m not ashamed that I find pleasure out of another’s death.
Biting my lip, I head into the forest. The temperature drops as I silently make my way through, foliage crunching beneath my feet. A sharp thrill is zinging throughout my body, yet I keep my pace quick but steady.
Xavier is confident he’ll get away, but with how deep these woods are, we’re confident none of them will find their way out before we catch up to them.
The wind blowing through leaves, birds chirping, and the critters rustling in the brush fade as my focus sharpens on what I do need to hear—branches snapping, the crunch of leaves beneath footsteps, and heavy breathing.
There’s a clear impression of his boot to my left, so I turn and follow after his prints.
About fifteen tense minutes pass, and I alternate between a steady jog and walking. There are no maze walls keeping them confined in one area, so it’ll be easy for them to get lost.
Xavier believes he can find his way out, but it would take him hours, and that’s without getting turned around.
A sudden, loud screech startles me, sending birds tearing through the branches, followed by evil cackling. Sounds like Francesca’s scream, and if she’s not already hit, she came very close to it.
I exhale shakily, my heart racing and sweat gathering at the base of my spine.
Another scream from Francesca, the tail end cutting off abruptly— presumably from Sibby silencing her somehow. In that single moment, meant to be hidden beneath her scream, was a twig cracking.
My head snaps in the direction, off to my left, where I see a flash of a hand before it disappears behind a tree trunk. He’s about thirty feet ahead of
me.
Clenching my jaw, I raise my crossbow and take aim. The second he steps out from that tree, no matter which direction he heads, I’ll have a perfect shot.
Does he feel like a fly caught in the spider’s web? Trapped where he stands while the black widow stalks from afar.
It’s exhilarating. The heady feeling pulsating between my thighs, causing my cheeks to flush and my lids to droop.
My focus sharpens until Xavier’s fear is all I can see, smell, and taste.
How helpless he must feel, knowing his end is nearing.
“How does it feel?” I ask, just loud enough for him to hear.
Far off in the distance, another shout rings out, this time from Rocco.
But they’re so far away, it barely penetrates the shroud wrapped around him and me.
He doesn’t answer, possibly holding on to hope that I don’t know exactly where he is. As if every breath he takes can’t be felt through the strings of my web.
“Does it make you sick with fear?” I persist, taking another silent step. A sliver of his elbow peeks out, and I smile. “Is your heart pounding so hard, it feels like it’s going to come out of your throat?”
The wind picks up, lashing through my hair and creating crooked
branches out of the cinnamon strands.
When it dies, I inhale deeply.
“Smell that, Xavier?”
He shifts, his elbow disappearing and a few leaves crunching under his
feet.
“Smells like death.”
A stillness settles over us. So thick, even the birds quieten. And then he’s jumping out from the tree. My finger is milliseconds from pressing the trigger when he abruptly pivots, heading the opposite direction, attempting to get me to fire the arrow prematurely.
While it didn’t work in that regard, it did throw me off my equilibrium, and it takes me a second too long to catch up before he’s darting behind another tree.
I launch the arrow just as he disappears, a startled shout piercing my ears. I don’t stop to see if I’ve hit him. Immediately, I grab an arrow from
the quiver on my back and begin to reload. Heart racing, I keep my hands
steady as he takes off again.
Don’t rush, Addie. Keep steady.
The second my crossbow is reloaded, I rush after him, finding a blood trail dotted in his footprints.
Desperation clouds his judgment, and he limps out from one tree toward another with a massive trunk, his leg dragging. My arrow is jutting out from his calf, blood bubbling from the wound as he runs. Taking aim once more, I breathe in deep and then release, pressing the trigger as I do.
The arrow slices through the warm, summer air and lodges in the center of his back. A piercing yelp, and he’s falling flat on his face.
My blood heats and my heart sings from his agonized groans. Nails digging into the dirt ground, he drags himself forward, attempting to escape… to where? There’s nowhere for him to go except to Hell.
“Somebody help!” he shouts from the top of his lungs, his voice breaking at the end.
“Goddamn, that’s embarrassing,” I say, approaching him. I kick his injured leg when I near, grinning when he curses at me, blood tainting his spit.
Crouching beside him, I cock my head, taking in his pitiful state. His blond hair is soaked with sweat, the beads of perspiration trailing down his red face. And those bright baby blue eyes—the very ones that watched me cry and bleed beneath him—are so full of rage and pain, they’re nearly black.
“Silly rabbit, I told you that you couldn’t escape me.”
I hear leaves crunching in the distance along with what sounds like someone cursing and struggling, slowly getting closer as Xavier spits more curses at me that would send my mother to an early grave. The insults roll off my back, despite how hard he tries to hurt me. He’s already done his worst when I was the one helpless and powerless.
Now, he’s nothing.
A deep growl sounds from behind me, drawing my attention away. Zade approaches us, dragging a spitting mad Rocco by his collar, splattered with blood from head to toe. With his black hood drawn, chin tipped low, and his yin-yang eyes locked on me, I lose all cognitive function.
A dark god that embodies destruction and death, yet I’ve never felt more in love.
Rocco is no small man, yet Zade drags him as if he weighs absolutely nothing. He drops him on the ground, earning a few nasty words, which he
dutifully ignores.
“Can he run?”
“Arrow in the spine,” he clips.
My mouth dries as he nears, incapable of doing anything else but watching him bend down, seize me by the throat and crush his mouth into
mine.
Milliseconds.
That’s how insignificant of a moment it takes for me to respond. He pries my lips apart with his tongue, tasting me thoroughly and drawing an embarrassing moan from my throat.
He rips himself away, only to fist my hair and yank my head back until I have no choice but to look him in the eye.
“A good man would be sorry that he corrupted something so pure.”
“You’ve never been a good man,” I whisper, reiterating the exact words he’s told me so many times before.
“No,” he agrees. “But I have always been yours.”
Swallowing, I open my mouth to reply but Zade’s hand is releasing my neck and snapping to the side before I can blink. Gasping, I turn to find Zade holding the tip of an arrow inches from my face, blood leaking down his arm.
Xavier struggles to push the arrow further toward me to no avail. My mouth opens with shock, slow to process what the hell just happened.
While I was distracted, Xavier had ripped the arrow out of his calf and attempted to stab me with it. Zade saw it coming, despite that his gaze never left mine.
“Jesus, fuck,” I breathe. “So uncool, dude.”
If Xavier would’ve killed me before I killed him, I would gladly accept death. And if Zade tried to resuscitate me, I’d put my foot down and refuse to come back. How could I look myself in the eye after that epic of a failure?
Zade rips the arrow out of Xavier’s grasp, black fury emanating from him. His hand is going to be nothing but shredded meat and bone if this
keeps up. It’s still healing from the knife, yet he shows no indication he’s in pain.
Xavier’s teeth are bared from both agony and frustration, and I can see he’s ready to pounce again.
I grab the arrow from Zade’s hold, and using the sharp pointed tip, I notch it under Xavier’s chin, forcing him to look at me.
“Look at all that blood,” I muse, echoing his own words with a sardonic smile.
Zade readjusts, crouching behind me, his knees on either side as he presses into my back. Xavier’s eyes drift over my shoulder, hatred swirling in his eyes.
My breath hitches, shivering from the feel of Zade’s hand sliding across my midriff, then lower, the tips of his fingers breaching the waistband of my leggings.
Xavier tracks the movement, his face reddening the lower Zade’s hand drifts.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, though the answer is obvious. This is so fucking wrong, yet my pussy throbs when his fingers brush over my clit.
“When you stole from her, did you know the only one she thought of was me?” he asks, ignoring my question. I bite my lip, arousal flooding between my thighs as he continues to softly play.
Xavier snarls but doesn’t deign him an answer.
“I want to show you why,” Zade whispers, his deep voice dark and sinful.
His touch becomes firmer, and a low moan slips free. I close my eyes, embarrassed by that, even though Xavier can’t see anything but the outline of Zade’s hand.
“Don’t be shy,” Zade murmurs in my ear. “Show him why he never stood a chance against me.”
I exhale a shuddering breath, unable to contain the breathless moan, my eyes opening then fluttering shut again from the pleasure taking hold of my body. He expertly rubs my clit, and soon my head is dropping back on his shoulder.
“Zade,” I moan, my thighs beginning to tremble.
“Stop it,” Xavier barks, his voice pained for more reasons than the arrow piercing his spine.
“Are you angry because she never moaned your name?” Zade challenges. He’s right—I never did, despite how hard Xavier tried.
“Did she cry out for God?” he pushes.
“Yes,” Xavier spits, and fuck, I’m falling apart. I thrust against Zade’s hand, rolling my hips mindlessly, the bliss eroding my entire being.
“Good,” he says, a grin in his voice. “That means she was crying out for me.”
“Oh my God, Zade,” I sob, the orgasm building, forming into a sharp point right where his fingers are rubbing.
“That’s it, baby,” he purrs. “Show him who you’re really praying to.”
“Zade!” I cry out, splintering into millions of pieces while my soul breaks free, shooting far into the heavens. It’s then I realize I don’t belong there, not when my dark god is pulling me down into a world of sin and pleasure, making me come while holding an arrow to my rapist’s throat.
We’re all fucking damned anyway, forced to live outside of heaven’s gates. I find I like it better living in the darkness next to my shadow.
Zade slips his hand from my leggings, cupping my pussy over the fabric while I ride out the rolling waves of euphoria.
Slowly, I come down, my vision spotty as clarity gradually resurfaces.
Panting, I look down to find Xavier seething, his eyes glassy as he glares at me.
Why does he look so betrayed when he’s never owned anything more than my nightmares?
“You’re a whore,” he spits angrily. Zade stands, his presence looming, seconds away from taking the wheel and sending Xavier into the afterlife. I reposition the arrowhead against his neck, a droplet of blood forming beneath the tip.
“And what makes you think your opinion of me means anything at all?”
I wonder.
Before he can answer, a loud screech cuts in, full of pain and frustration.
“Fucking psycho bitch!”
That would be Francesca.
On shaking legs, I stand and turn to find Sibby dragging Francesca’s flailing body toward us, her red, sweaty face twisted with annoyance. Zade starts to head to her but pauses and points at Xavier.
“I hear you call her any names one more time, I’m cutting out your fucking tongue. Believe me when I say you wouldn’t be the first.”
My brows pinch. “Who was the first?”
Zade just grins, then jogs over to Sibby and takes over, relieving her of Francesca’s weight and carrying the screeching woman the rest of the way, an arrow protruding from her ass cheek.
I’m still a little hung up on the tongue thing, but I decide that I don’t really want to know anyway. Ignorance is bliss and shit.
“Where are your henchmen?” I call out, raising my voice above Francesca’s screaming. From the sour look on Sibby’s face, I’m assuming she wasn’t imagining one of them as the one dragging Francesca.
“I told them to stay behind. They’ve been arguing with each other all day, and it’s driving me nuts. I needed a break from those morons.”
Zade drops Francesca next to Rocco, her scream heightening when she lands on the arrow. The stem breaks, though the arrowhead is still lodged deeply in muscle and bone.
Then, Zade approaches Xavier, the injured man’s eyes widening with fear.
“Don’t be shy, come lay with your friends,” Zade says, grabbing Xavier by the front of his shirt and dragging him to lay on the other side of Rocco.
Their agonized moans, curses, and insults blend together, and Jesus Christ, is that annoying.
I approach them, staring down at the pathetic trio of rapists. A part of me wishes Rio were here so he could watch Francesca die alongside me. Who knows how deeply he’s suffered at her hands? Like Sydney, his pain doesn’t justify the pain he’s inflicted on others, but I do know that it wasn’t any less significant than mine.
“Embarrassing,” I spit, revulsion thickening in the pit of my stomach.
“How many girls were in your place now while you celebrated and got off on their torment?”
“Fuck you!” Francesca screams, spittle flying from her mouth. “You think you’re better than us? I’ll see you in fucking Hell, and when I do—”
“You’ll what?” I cut in, laughing when she glares at me. I crouch down, putting my face in hers. “Torture me there, too? You will never be stronger than me, Francesca, and you want to know why? I survived you, but you won’t fucking survive me.”
I pull a special gift I had burning in the back of my pocket and present it to her. A heel I broke off from one of her shoes.
“Fucking choke on it, bitch.”
She opens her mouth to curse, scream—do whatever—and I take advantage, shoving the heel down her throat, smiling when her eyes pop out of her head. She convulses, choking on it, but I’m already standing and
moving onto Xavier.
“Have fun, Sibby.”
Sibby grins while lowering onto her knees, and then crawls on Francesca’s body. Raising her pink knife above her head, she plunges it down into the slowly dying woman’s chest.
“No, no, no, wait, wait, it was all her—” Rocco begins, then abruptly ends when Zade plunges his knife directly through the side of his mouth. In through one cheek and out the other, the blade caught between his teeth.
Rocco screams, blood quickly pouring from his open mouth. I smile and turn my attention to Xavier. He looks on the verge of passing out, though I can’t tell if it’s from his injuries or because he’s a pussy facing the
consequences of his own actions.
Probably the latter.
“Just… kill me already,” he whines. “I will beg you if I must.”
“You want me to grant you mercy? Was that what that was, every time you sliced me open? Did you have mercy on me when you raped me? Paid money and tried to buy me like I’m a fucking object so you could torment me for the rest of my miserable fucking life?”
He stutters, sweat pouring down his face, growing more desperate and panicked. Especially as Sibby begins to remove limbs, and Zade starts to
pluck out Rocco’s eyes.
“I-I’m so sorr—”
“I don’t want your apologies, Xavier. I want your suffering.”
Before he can open his mouth and spew more useless pleas, I grab two extra blades from my thigh strap, and one at a time, force each hand flat and plunge a knife completely through, pinning them into the dirt.
Eyes wide, his screams mix with Rocco’s, and now that… that’s a beautiful sound.
I don’t bother removing his pants. I just raise my knife and stab it into his pelvis, crimson instantly staining his soiled khakis. I keep stabbing until
his entire groin area is ravaged, and I’m panting.
Now, he really is seconds away from blacking out, so I grab him by the hair, force his eyes onto mine, and shove my blade straight through his throat.
His eyes widen in disbelief as he begins to choke, crimson pouring from the wound and down the front of his shirt.
I lean in, as close to his face as possible, ensuring I’m the last fucking thing he sees.