A pleased groan rattles from him as he enters me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. The initial stretch is always overwhelming. My body trembles as he sinks deeper, filling me completely. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“Daddy,” I exhale. “I belong to Daddy.”
“Such a good girl,” he growls against my ear, beginning to move his hips. “And what does Daddy do for his good girl?”
He sets a punishing rhythm before I can answer, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The bed frame screams beneath us, the sound mingling with my cries and his guttural groans. I wrap my legs around his waist, trying to pull him even deeper, though he’s already buried to the hilt.
“He gives… her… what she needs,” I manage between gasps. “He… fills her up.”
“Damn right,” he grunts, driving painfully deep. “He fills her until she’s dripping with his cum. Until she’s marked as his.”
My orgasm builds rapidly, the pleasure overwhelming. “Daddy,” I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as the release explodes through me.
There is something about making me come that turns him absolutely feral. He fucks me without abandon, pounding into me like a vigorous machine.Giving me exactly what Iasked for. My legs quiver around his waist, teetering on the brink of a release that I’m certain is going to ruin me.
“Come for me again,” he demands breathlessly from his vigorous exertion. “Come on Daddy’s cock.”
His words push me over the edge, and I shatter around him, waves of pleasure crashing through my body. I’m vaguely aware of Jagger groaning my name as he follows me over, his hot release flooding me.
We lie tangled together, both of us breathing heavily. The room is silent, except for the rain still tapping against the windows and the slowing rhythm of our heartbeats.
Jagger shifts his weight, rolling us so that I’m sprawled across his massive chest with his cock still buried inside me. His hand traces patterns on my back, gentle and soothing, as I lie satiated on top of him. “You okay?” he asks, his voice now soft.
“Yes,” I pant, tilting my head to look up at him. His dark hair is damp, sticking to his forehead in places. “Just tired. You?”
“Better than okay.” He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through my body. His fingers run lazily up my spine. “You should rest.”
I move to climb off him, but he firmly grabs my hips to stop me before his cock slides from me. Using his firm grip, he shoves me back over his length. “Be a good girl and keep my cock inside you,” he insists. “Holding my cum in your pussy until I’m ready to fill you again.”
I press my cheek against his sweaty chest and close my eyes as his large arms wrap around me. “Yes, Daddy.”
Thirty-six hours is a strange amount of time.
It’s long enough to hope. Long enough to imagine an ending where everyone gets the future they deserve, yet also long enough to convince yourself that no amount of preparation can outpace theunpredictability andbrutal mathematics of violence. It’s short enough that fear never really loosens its grip. It changes shape, sharpening its edges until it feels less like panic and more like something has settled deep in your bones. By the time the figurative timer goes off, I feel hollowed out.
The safe house hums with a tension so palpable you can feel it in every room. It presses against my chest, making it hard to breathe, as the silence makes it hard to think. What noise there is—magazines being clicked into place, the metallic slide of weapons being checked, and the muted thud of heavy boots against the wooden floors—are so loud they sound amplified.
The boys move with practiced efficiency, muscle memory taking over where nerves would otherwise get in the way.Like me in the operating room.There’s no wasted motion. No unnecessary words. Nothing but the robotic motions of men who cannot leave room for fear to creep in.
I sit on the edge of the couch longer than I need to, hands clasped tightly in my lap, staring at a blank stretch of wall. My thoughts refuse to line up neatly. They splinter and ricochet, collide and overlap until I can’t tell which are warnings and which are me spiraling.
What if Maryam can’t move fast enough?
What if someone follows us and we never make it out of the hospital?
What if Zahra crashes mid-transfer?
What if Aliyah cries at the wrong moment?
What if I misjudged everything? And everyone?
I replay every decision I’ve made since the first moment Maryam trusted me. Every choice that nudged events in one direction instead of another. Every promise spoken quietly, urgently, like saying it softly, would make it stronger.I won’t let anything happen to you.
Promises are fragile things. They feel solid when you make them, but they shatter easily. And the weight of breaking one is unbearable.
“Blake.” Jagger’s voice cuts through the cacophony in my head. I look up and find him standing a few feet away, already geared up—vest snug, jaw set so rigidly it looks like it might crack.
He steps forward and slips a slightly too-big vest over my head. He pulls the Velcro straps as tight as possible, securing it around my frame. “You’re wearing it. Absolutely no arguments.”Trust me, you aren’t getting one.Fisting the collar of it, he pulls me up to my feet. His voice full of concern, he gruffly whispers, “You doeverythingI say. When I say it, understood?”
