The dual invasion is a sensory execution. I am being filled from every direction, my body stretched to a point of physical impossibility. I am screaming against Ryker’s thumb, my eyes bulging as I stare into the dying, terrified gaze of my father. I am the last thing he will ever see—his daughter, his masterpiece, being utterly possessed by the monsters he created, right in his blood-slicked lap.
“This is the family portrait, Dad!” Ryker snarls, his thrusts in my heat matching Jex’s brutal rhythm.
The friction of them sliding against each other through the thin wall of my anatomy is a white-hot electrical storm. I am vibrating, my muscles seizing in a permanent, agonisingly hot climax that won’t end. The sound is a wet, rhythmic carnage—the slap of their bellies against my ass, the squelch of the blood acting as a lubricant, and the rattling, dying gasps of the man watching his legacy turn into a snuff film.
I’m losing my mind, the pleasure so sharp it feels like a seizure. I am a mess of red and white, a screaming nerve endings, being hammered into the floor of the abyss by the two men who finally taught me that the only thing better than being saved is being destroyed.
Jex doesn’t give me a second to breathe. He hooks his arms under my armpits and hauls me up, my feet dangling as he drags my blood-slicked body over the side of the medical chair. He drops me directly onto our father’s lap.
The sensation is a sickening, visceral jolt. The old man’s legs are thin and trembling under my weight, and the wet heat of his open wounds soaks into my backside. I’m forced to sit on the very lap that used to symbolise my prison, but now, I’m the weight that’s crushing him.
“Grind, Hallow,” Ryker commands, his voice a jagged edge of silk. “Show him what he’s worth.”
Jex stands behind the chair, leaning over the back to grab my hair, tilting my head so far back I’m staring at the ceiling of the sub. He’s already pushing back into me, his cock a thick, demanding rod of fire that pins me down onto the old man’s thighs. Ryker steps in front, forcing his way between my knees, his hands roaming over my gore-streaked breasts with a predatory hunger.
The friction is a total, chaotic sensory execution. I am grinding my pussy against Jex’s cock while my outer skin slides against the dying heat of the man who sold me. Ryker leans down, his tongue darting out to lick the salt-tears from my cheeks before he moves to my throat, sucking the skin so hard he leaves a deep, dark bruise—a mark of the new empire.
“He’s watching, Hallow,” Jex rasps, his thrusts picking up speed, driving me harder into the old man’s lap with every heavy thud. “Feel him shaking? He’s terrified of you.”
Ryker’s hands are everywhere—one squeezing my thigh until his fingerprints are etched in red, the other reaching down to find the seam where Jex enters me. He’s massaging my clit with a thumb slick with Father’s blood, his touch a localised lightning strike that makes my hips buck uncontrollably.
I’m screaming, my voice a shredded, raw thing as I’m forced to move in a rhythmic, depraved dance on the lap of a ghost. I can feel the old man’s shallow, rattling chest heaving under my shoulder blades, his silent agony a percussion to the wet, slapping sound of Jex’s belly hitting my back.
“Please,” I choke out, my eyes rolling back. “Jex… Ryker… more…”
Ryker doesn’t wait. He pulls my face toward his silver mask, his gloved fingers forcing my mouth open and slides his tongue across mine while Jex hammers me from behind.
The pressure builds, a white-hot wall of static that threatens to snap my spine, and as Jex lets out a low, guttural roar, burying himself to the hilt, I shatter into a million pieces of red glass.
The air in the cabin is stagnant, heavy with the suffocating scent of copper and the raw, electric musk of a climax that felt like an execution. I’m vibrating, my muscles twitching in a violent aftershock as I collapse back against Jex’s chest, still pinned to the lap of the man who sold my soul.
The old man is a broken instrument, a rhythmic, wet wheeze the only sign he hasn’t slipped into the dark yet. His head is lolled to the side, his eyes vacant and bloodshot, staring at the floor where the pieces of his legacy—his fingers, his tongue—lay like discarded trash.
Jex doesn’t pull out. He stays buried deep, his pulse a heavy, possessive thrum inside me that says mine with every beat. He reaches around, his hands slick with the mixture of our father’s blood and my own sweat, and cups my face. He turns my head, forcing me to look at Ryker.
Ryker is standing over us, a silver-masked phantom in the dim red emergency light. He reaches out, his gloved thumb dragging across my bottom lip, catching a stray drop of blood and smearing it over my teeth.
“It’s a beautiful ruin, isn’t it?” Ryker whispers, hisvoice smooth as a blade. “The King is dead. Long live the Choir.”
He leans down, his mouth hovering just inches from mine. “But we aren’t done, Hallow. The bridge was just the signal. Now, we show them what happens when the monsters stop hiding.”
Jex finally pulls back, the wet, sliding sound of his exit making me gasp as the cold air hits my overstimulated skin. He hauls me up off the old man, his grip firm on my waist, and stands me on the grated floor. I’m unsteady, my legs shaking so hard I have to lean into him, my skin mapped in a terrifying mosaic of red.
Ryker turns to the console, his fingers dancing over the keys. On the monitors, the thermal feeds of the harbour are replaced by a grid of city-wide security cameras. Oakhaven is in chaos. Buildings are burning, the police are overwhelmed, and in the centre of the screen, a new symbol is being projected onto the smoke-filled sky.
A silver mask.
“He’s going to watch it all fall,” Jex growls, his hand settling on the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the bruises he just left there. “He’s going to watch us take every street, every dollar, and every life he thought he owned.”
I look at the man in the chair—the weeping, ruined shell of my father. He looks at me, and for a split second, I see the recognition of his own end.
“Go to sleep, Dad,” I whisper, my voice cold and sharp enough to draw blood. “When you wake up, the world will belong to us.”
Ryker flicks a final switch, and the submersible tilts,diving deeper into the black, silent depths of the harbour, carrying the three of us away from the wreckage of the past and toward the fire of the future.
The silence is absolute. The screaming is just getting started.
Chapter
