Page 59 of After the Chase

“No, nothing like that. I just like the way they look after, makes me feel like I’ve had a part in making what people think is bad, a work of art.”

“This is a lot in one day.”

“You’ve just watched me kill someone, and a few photos have upset you?”

“That sentence is never one I thought I would ever hear.”

He leans back against the entrance door, and I pull him close.

“Let me take your mind off it, baby. Remember how turned on you were at the clubhouse?”

“I’d rather not.”

“You have no choice. I plan to fuck you all night, baby, rock you to sleep with my cock buried inside of you.”

I feel his dick harden against me as I press him into the door, licking and sucking on his neck. Now he knows everything, but the big question is what will he do with that knowledge?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHASE

I wake to find Noah already awake and on a phone call in the other room. So I use this moment to get up and spend some time writing in my journal, noting everything from last night.

Noah killed someone for the Kozlov organization,I write.His first official task. And he did it so effortlessly, zero hesitation, no remorse, no emotional interference. It suited him.

When we got home he showed me the photographs of all of his kills from past to present. I was shocked as it was not something I expected. Serial killers are known to keep something from the crime as a memento, but Noah didn’t do it for that reason. He did it to capture the beauty, and I’m unsure how to go forward with that. Is this due to his psychopath diagnosis? Is it a hobby that is tainted by the darkness?

The worst thing of the evening was how aroused I was when watching him work. I'm not a sadist, but it was something about the way he did it, because of me. To actually see what he is capable of because someone looked in my direction gives me a thrill that should not exist.I pause, staring at what I've written.

I should be horrified, but instead I'm sitting here writing about it like it's a case study. Like I'm witnessinga psychological phenomenon rather than my own passive involvement in murder.

The truth is, I don't want to stop it, what he does. I want to watch it unfold. I want to see Noah in his element without any constraint.

My phone buzzes. A text from Ty.

Ty: Lunch today? Just you and me?

I hesitate, and ignore the message as my mind isn’t in the right space after last night. I go back to journaling, deciding to end the entry on a positive note.

More exciting news is that we will be moving into our new home soon. I’m so excited to finally have a place that’s ours. No more hotels. It’s been so long since I’ve had a routine and a proper home, that I cannot wait. I’ve already picked out everything we need. This is the next step for us and I feel complete.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

NOAH

Three Weeks Later

The house is perfect and I’m relieved we have finally moved in. The advantage of having my late father’s contacts and being associated with the Blackrose Saints is that shit gets done quicker.

We now have a gated entrance, with security cameras at every angle, reinforced doors and bulletproof windows. I stand in the main living area while the security contractor walks me through the system. Chase is upstairs, exploring the bedrooms and office spaces.

"Biometric locks on all exterior doors," the contractor says, showing me the control panel. "Facial recognition cameras with real-time alerts to your phone. Motion sensors in the backyard and all entry points. The panic room is here…" he says as he gestures to what looks like a closet door. "Reinforced steel, independent ventilation, satellite phone inside."

"Good."

"We can have everything operational by tomorrow morning."

"Do it."