“Get off me!” Isaac bucked upward, trying to dislodge him, but Dimitri’s weight held him trapped. Fingers wrapped around his wrists, slamming them down against the mattress above his head.
Isaac twisted violently, using every ounce of strength he possessed to break free, but Dimitri was stronger, heavier, and had leverage Isaac couldn’t overcome. Rage mixed with terror as Isaac realized how completely helpless he was in this position.
“You’re disgusting! I swear to god if you don’t get off me right now—”
“You’ll what?” Dimitri’s breath ghosted over Isaac’s neck, making his skin try to crawl right off his body. “Scream? Go ahead. These walls are thick, and everyone downstairs thinks I’m standing guard like a good little soldier.”
“You bastard!” Isaac spat, still fighting even though his muscles were already starting to burn from the effort. “I swear to every god listening, I will end you for this!”
Dimitri leaned down, his lips brushing against Isaac’s neck in a mockery of tenderness. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re angry.”
Lips pressed against the side of Isaac’s throat, wet and unwanted, and Isaac’s brain short-circuited into pure animal panic. He couldn’t think, could only feel the wrongness of it, the violation of having someone touch him like this when every cell in his body screamed no. His panda thrashed inside him, desperate to shift, to run, to do anything but be trapped here under this predator.
“So delicate. So perfect.”
This was wrong. Everything about this was theft. Time. Body. Isaac’s mind fractured into a thousand panicked thoughts, each one screaming for escape while his body remained trapped beneath someone who thought he had the right to take whatever he wanted.
Where was Whichello? He showed up when Isaac didn’t want him to, yet when he needed the demon, the guy was giving him space. Isaac didn’t need space. He needed someone who could stop his life from being irrevocably changed forever.
“There’ll be no grave, only absence,” Isaac ground out, still fighting, even though his arms were growing numb from being pinned. “I’ll carve my fury into every inch of you.”
If it was the last thing Isaac did, he would make Dimitri pay for this violation.
“Empty threats from such a pretty mouth.” Another kiss, this one at the corner of Isaac’s mouth, and Isaac turned his head so violently he heard something crack in his neck. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
Isaac renewed his struggle, because hell no. He wasn’t going to lie down in defeat. That wasn’t who he was, and—
The weight vanished. Dimitri was there one second and gone the next, yanked backward so fast that, for a brief second, Isaac couldn’t register the movement.
Whichello stood there with his hand wrapped around Dimitri’s throat, lifting the enforcer until his feet dangled. Dimitri’s feet kicked uselessly as Whichello’s fingers tightened around his windpipe.
“You’ll wish for death long before it comes.” The demon’s gray eyes had gone completely black. There was no white visible, just endless void that promised suffering beyond imagination. Suffering promised like an art form perfected centuries ago by something that had forgotten how to pretend at humanity.
Whichello’s gaze flicked to Isaac for half a second. Whatever was in that look didn’t belong in daylight. Ancient. Honest. Unfiltered. The kind of truth that didn’t care if it ruined things. Because it wasn’t about ownership.
It wasn’t about control.
Wasn’t about punishment.
It wasprotective.
Whichello snapped his attention back to Dimitri like Isaac shouldn’t have seen that much, but it was a truth too heavy to ignore. Damage done, truth exposed, Isaac realized, though he didn’t understand why Whichello cared so much about him.
Marcus stood in the doorway. His gaze moved from Whichello to Dimitri to Isaac still sprawled on the bed, and his expression hardened into something murderous. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I’m sorry—” Dimitri choked out, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the hand crushing his throat.
Whichello’s nostrils flared. His chin lowered, and eyes narrowed. “I don’t want an apology. I want to hear your last fucking breath.”
Dimitri made gagging sounds, his hands clawing at Whichello’s grip, but the demon didn’t loosen his hold even slightly.
A gasp escaped Isaac when frost began to creep over Whichello’s hand. He was about to kill the demon by freezing him from the inside out. It was such a personal way to end someone. It wasn’t rage. It was inevitability.
Whichello’s gaze flicked toward Isaac, but Isaac didn’t see a monster. He saw something haunting in the demon’s eyes. Whichello’s features softened, and he looked as if the sound tormented him.
“Marcus.” Whichello’s voice hit like a rumble of thunder, making the air itself heavier. “Lock Dimitri in the dungeon. I’ll deal with him later.”
Whichello was showing mercy only because Isaac was watching. Whichello was choosing control over annihilation because he didn’t want Isaac to hear that last breath.
