I can’t control myself anymore. Without thinking I snap my knee up, hard, connecting with his groin. I can’t even hear the sound of impact before he’s hunching forward. His body jerks, and he lets out a shrill groan, before clutching himself and crumpling to the floor. I hear his muffled curses under his breath. “You bitch!”
My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I stand over him, my body trembling with the aftermath of the confrontation.
His groans are only a small victory. “You just sealed your fate, you stupid cu?—”
I cut him off, kicking his knee, before stepping over with my gaze locked on his. “Fate’s a joke, Brady,” I sneer. “You’re not in charge of anything here, especially not me.” I back up a step, eyes never leaving his, and then add, “But you can try to fix that if you want. See how far it gets you.” My body starts to move on its own; my foot pulls back and drives straight into his dick. The sounds coming from him reminds me of a dying animal. And when I turn around, ready to walk away, I see Zed standing by the corner, watching me.
Chapter Sixteen
Zedediah
Asharp pain pounds in my head, and it takes me a second to realize I’m in my bed. The curtains are drawn, causing darkness to fill the room. My head’s pounding and everything feels foggy. Then I think of chapel. I tried to outrun the past. How naive of me to think I could. But it finally caught up with me, and when it did, I felt like I was dying. It was the worst one I’ve had in over a year. Fenris loves calling them “episodes,” like I’m the one controlling the remote. But I don’t get to escape it, I don’t even get to press pause. I could’ve sworn I heard her voice. Saw her face. Felt her hands, soft and gentle, like she was there taking care of me.
For a second, I thought I was dead and somehow I’d ended up in heaven. But this isn’t heaven. It’s far from it. I shove those thoughts away, trying to sit up, but my head spins, and I drop back down. “Fuck,” I hiss. I can’t even get my body to listen to me right now? I close my eyes for a minute and then try again, but slower this time. When I press my fingers to my temple, I wince immediately. Did I hit my head?
Finally I manage to drag myself up and stumble into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, hoping it’ll clear my mind, but it doesn’t. I think about chapel with Cat. Explaining the web Fenris has woven into this place never goes over easy. People always give different reactions, whether they came here willingly or not; you never really know how they’ll handle it.
But Cat? She doesn’t back down. She knows when to fight and when to make it look like she’s giving in. That’s how I know she won’t accept this place. I saw that look on her face this morning, the genuine disbelief. It’ll fuel her, only push her harder to break free. She won’t stay in these chains, especially not if I can help it.
I did everything I could to push down the memories of Jonah. And Lucy. The guilt. Every damn day I’m reminded in some way that I failed them. If I’d just agreed. If I hadn’t held onto this idea that maybe Fenris had the potential to redeem himself, maybe Jonah and Lucy would still be here. Relationships with your parents, or parental figures at all, can be hard. They’re even harder to navigate when they’re the only “family” you have. I should’ve killed him. Should’ve burnt his flesh to a crisp. Fire purifies, right? I can hear his voice in my head: “It devours the unworthy, leaving only what can withstand the flames.”
One day, he will burn. And when that happens, the people he’s held captive will finally get the choice to leave, if he lets them make it out alive. I stare at myself in the mirror, not recognizing the face staring back at me—the one responsible for their suffering. The face that made the two of them pay for my mistakes.
My hands will always be stained with their blood; that’s the price I have to pay for my sins. I slam my fist into the mirror, and instead of shattering it just cracks, turning my face intosomething jagged, a reflection of how I feel. Fenris doesn’t make empty threats. Jonah and I learned that when we were twelve.
When he told me he’d kill Jonah if I moved even an inch, I didn’t think twice. I knew I wouldn’t move. But it didn’t matter. Because in the end, losing Lucy killed him anyway.
As I’m bandaging the small cut on my knuckle, I think of Cat, and I know she’ll have questions, but I’m not sure I’m ready to answer them. I should tell her to run, to get out before this place, before Fenris—before I—tears her apart. But the thought of her leaving isn’t something I’m ready to face. If she walks away without me, she’ll take the last real piece of me with her, and I know I won’t get it back.
So what am I supposed to do? Push her away to keep her safe from what she doesn’t even see yet? Or pull her closer, even if it means dragging her down with me? I don’t have those answers. The only thing I know for certain is that I don’t have much left. But what’s still mine, my hands, my soul, my goddamn life—it all belongs to her now. Plus, I’m too far gone to let her go.
Everything is still as I make my way through the building. Just as I’m turning the corner I catch her driving her knee right into Brady’s balls. He drops like a sack of shit, so I stop and keep my distance. She’s clearly got this handled. Still, all of my muscles are tight and I’m waiting for him to make one wrong move. If he so much as breathes in her direction, I’ll step in. Maybe I’ll break his jaw and cave in his ribs, just so he has to remember who she belongs to every time he tries to breathe.
I shouldn’t get hard watching Brady writhe in pain, but my dick is clearly a masochist and doesn’t care that this is about vengeance. It’s also the fantasy of it all. The one where I get to protect her.
Where I get to beat the shit out of those who touch what’s mine. Where I’m the weapon she never has to lift. I want herto look at me like I’m the only thing keeping the world from swallowing her whole.
I watch her brush the hair out of her eyes. God. The way she doesn’t back down, it’s fucking beautiful. I push my hips in, feeling myself getting harder by the second. A quiet groan escapes my lips thinking about throwing him against the wall, cracking his skull open while she watches. Her eyes wide, her tits and breathing hard from the rush. His blood dripping from my knuckles while she says my name like a goddamn prayer. Not only because I saved her, but because she wanted me to.
I’m burning with the desire to feel her body struggling with resistance beneath me. Her back arching as I devour her until nothing remains but her soul. I want her to pray to me for salvation, but I’ll make her see that salvation and sin are carved from the same bone—my bone.
My eyes trail down her form. Her tight black shirt hugs her frame, the denim of her pants perfectly molded to her thighs, cupping her ass. Her body was made to be worshiped and feared. I’ll gladly do both. I want to ruin her, with teeth and tongue. With a tenderness that lets her know how cherished she is, even as I break her. I’d burst through the golden gates, tearing heaven down just to hear her moan my name in hell. I want her wrecked and holy on the altar of my choosing. I will not stop until I have her completely.
Brady interrupts the moment between us, the one she doesn’t even realize we’re sharing, with his struggling speech. It sounds like something about regret. He’s going to be the only one full of regret when I’m finished with him. She laughs, and then, she turns. My eyes lock with hers, the ones that are the perfect shade of green, like moss after a storm. We stand there, frozen in time. Every part of me aches to reach out, to touch her, to claim her, but I don’t. I want to give her the power to make the choice, to let her decide what happens next.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself if she makes even the smallest move toward me. And then, that’s exactly what she does.
Chapter Seventeen
Catarina
Before I even make up my mind, my legs move in his direction. “You always handle your problems like that?”
“Only when they deserve it. Plus, you look like you enjoyed the show.” I place my hand on my hip, staring into a pair of deep brown eyes before Zed arches a brow.
“Still hard from it.”
I swallow, and my eyes slowly trail down his front, stopping at the hard bulge beginning to form in his pants. Oh, he’s not lying. My cheeks burn at the sight, but I don’t care. I want him to see what he does to me. The smug twist of his mouth sends a jolt that lands straight between my thighs. I want to drop to my knees and ruin myself for him. I step directly into him, my hips tilting instinctively against him. I’m grabbing the hem of his shirt within seconds, pushing my fingers under the fabric before dragging my nails up his stomach.
