“That’s it. That’s a good boy.”
It’s fucked up how the same words that turn me on are the same ones that offer comfort. A reassurance and a promise that at least one person in this world knows you’re worth it.
Worth training and maybe worth keeping.
Ronan huffs softly, bumping his head back against my hand. Relief spills into my chest as I clip the tracking device to his collar, opting not to test his goodwill for any longer.
Grabbing my gun from the nightstand, I yank my cargo pants up my legs before wrestling a t-shirt over my head. Ronan watches me impatiently, his nails raking across the bedroom door.
Thunder cracks outside the window, an onslaught of rain screaming bloody murder against the side of Drache Manor. A torrential downpour in its deepest stage of fury, I don’t pay the weather any attention as Ronan goes charging towards the forbidden forest.
Slipping and sliding through muddy trails, debris flings in every direction as I go stumbling, sprinting after the dog. Rain pelts my skin, sheering through my shirt and plastering the useless material to my body as the distance between us starts to increase.
“Fuck.”
Pulling out my phone, a red dot blinks innocently on a map, it’s position inching farther away from me. I let out a curse and pick up speed, sloppily jumping over branches and hazardous bushes as I fumble my way through the thick wilderness.
I can barely see from the water splashing on my face, the steady drip of my hair leaving a cold fucking trail down my spine. Curses and prayers fall from my mouth as I keep going, keep pushing to find the mercy of anyone who is listening.
Find her, Ronan. Find her before it’s too late.
Chapter 39
CALISTA
I don’t know when it happened exactly.
The first trickle of blood, maybe. Delicate skin bursting against the seam of a knife, withering beneath the cruelty of a blade.
Or maybe it was the penetration. The degradation of having an intruder inside a too young of body, the rape of a child falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing the girl in the mirror. The flicker of hope in youthful eyes, the foolish belief that someone besides myself was going to save me.
It is always tragic when a little girl is forced to become a woman. But when a woman can no longer stomach the person she’s become...
Well, now that is another tragedy altogether.
“Open your mouth, Harry.” Digging my nails into the side of his jaw, I pry the stubborn man’s mouth open. He gurgles and he cries, two sounds that grow louder when I drag my knife inside his mouth.
And come away with his tongue.
“The next time you disrespect a woman, I want you to think of me.” Breathing into his ear, I flick the piece of flesh onto the forest floor, “The next time youtakesomething that isn’t yours to take, I want you to think of this moment.”
The woman who had been pinned against the trees now lies in pieces. Throat slit, eyes glassy, and dress torn up to her bust, there is nothing but destruction left.
The kind of destruction that deserves to be delivered to its rightful owner.
Filthy fingernails tear at my skin, drawing blood but not digging deep enough to leave a scar. His thumb makes a desperate attempt to gouge my eye out, but a quick twist of my hand has him screaming out in pain. A pain which only gets worse when I throw my body to the ground.
Dislocating his shoulder and removing his thumb with my knife at the same time.
Whirling around, I swing my legs around the man’s waist and trap him in place. Listen to his cries while I remove a few more layers of skin, the amount of flesh that would be similar to the body he left lying in the mud.
The spirit he stole from the woman, the soul he drained from this earth.
By the time I finish, the man lies in just as many pieces. His chest rises and falls with staggered breaths, his days well and truly numbered now that the predators have gotten wind of his torn flesh.
“I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
