She’s not making it out of here.
She wails, pounding the ground in obvious frustration over the dire straits of her situation, when Jackson barrels out of the forest.
“There you are, you stupid bitch,” he hisses.
Storming over, he yanks her up by her hair and tosses her against the tree trunk. He’s over her prone form before it can hit the dirt properly.
“Leasshve meesh aslone,” she slurs, shocking me that she can even speak, let alone still have such a fire in her voice. And I once again find myself disappointed that a strong spirit will die at the hands of monsters.
Backhanding her, Jackson rips her legs open, slamming into her pussy as he spits in her face.
Fucking coward.
I realize the irony in my unspoken words, but I never claimed to be a saint or a superhero. I am unfazed by the scene before my eyes. The brutality is only menacing because of who it is, what they did to my sister, and the threat they pose to Talia. In any other situation, I would be the villain—I am the villain.
Combinations of grunts, groans, and pained whimpers competewith the slapping skin. I was right to be unimpressed. Jackson fucks like a sledgehammer trying to nail glass picture frames to a wall. But he’s engrossed, not even hearing Mikah shout through their comms.
Ever the opportunist, I slink from where I’m hiding, positioning myself to strike.
Jackson is so focused on fucking the half-dead woman—his grunts and groans drowning out the echoing silence—he doesn’t even see me coming.
But she does.
Her eyes widen before quickly reverting to a look of passion and fear as she subtly urges me on, begging to help end her suffering. I nod, obliging her request, hoping in her next life she never encounters the evil she had to endure in this one.
Raising my sword, I prepare to swing.
Jackson
“Oh, fuck,” I choke out between thrusts, chasing the nut that escapes me unless I fuck someone close to death.
I’m not like Fredrick—I need my victims breathing until I come. It’s why Fredrick and I work so well together. He picks up where I leave off—just as they flatline.
The unhinged fuck is a pain in the ass, but he’s family.
Family.
The word burns—acidic, corroding my skin as I pump into this chick.
What fucking family?
The reminder of where we came from. It wasfamily lovethat put us here—turned us into harbingers of death.
The CryptKeepers. We mete outyour fate—as it isour fate.
“Get the fuck off of me, you twisted piece of shit,” she screeches, still full of life even as her end is on the horizon.
Being the dick that I am, I press down on the exposed, broken bone in her leg and chuckle. “Such a dirty-mouth twat,” I snap. “You’re lucky I wanted my dick in your cunt more than in your mouth.” The defiance never leaves her eyes, which only serves to make me equal parts pissed and turned on. “But don’t think I won’t dislocate your jaw.”
A blood-curdling scream rips from her that threatens to pierce my eardrums. I press just a few moments longer, only letting up because I don’t want her to pass out. I’m not into dead fish sex. As if she isn’t one injury away from death, her brown eyes flame with rage, and I recognize it for what it is—terminal lucidity.
My nostrils flare as indignation engulfs me.
How fucking dare she think she can die so quickly?
I haven’t fucking come yet.
Clenching my teeth, I peer down at the broken bird before me. Her wings—purposely cut. I study the spot the invisible dove tattoo is located, enjoying seeing it saturated in crimson—still naked to the eye.
