We kiss again, and Nick's hands slide up my skirt, cupping my ass and pulling me closer to him. Our skin feels electric as it meets again, sparks flying all around us. Once he pushes his fingers inside me, grunting in my ear, my eyes roll back in my head, and I know right away I'm going to fuck him before I kill him. Or kill him while I fuck him.
Suddenly trying to act rough and dominant, Nick spins us around, putting my back against the stone, setting off a flashback of Riley slamming me into a headstone before he hogtied me and destroyed me. He spins me once more and forces me to bend over it, kicking apart my feet like a police officer about to pat someone down. He chokes me from behind, catching me off guard, and begins to slap the tip of his dick against my ass, reminding me why I have such a hatred for most men.
They think they're in control. They think they can push us girls around and assert their dominance over us. And I can’t fucking stand it. But here in this moment, my body betrays my mind,caught in the tempest of conflicting desires—a struggle between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission. His grip tightens around my throat, a sensation that ignites both anger and an undeniable thrill. It dawns on me that perhaps this was the very sensation I craved: the confrontation of power, the challenge of reclaiming control in my own twisted way.
"Easy there, beautiful," he whispers into my ear, a mocking sweetness that makes my stomach churn. "You want this, don’t you?"
I nod, biting back the mix of vulnerability and contempt that rises within me. "Yeah, just... take it easy," I reply, steadying my breath despite the panic that lurks beneath my skin.
I can’t help but relish the tension, the rawness of this moment allowing a part of me to rise that had been asleep for far too long. The shadows of the cemetery deepen around us, enveloping us in secrecy, like a cloud over the sins we were about to commit. But this intimate scene had darker undertones. Time was slipping away, and chaos awaited. I had no intended time for games—I had a mission to fulfill; Nick was a tool, an unwitting participant in this cruel dance that would soon crescendo into something far graver.
My fingers gripped the cold stone beneath me, nails digging in as I relished the mixture of sensations. The wildness of what was happening both thrilled and terrified me. Many nights had passed since I’d felt the rush, vibrating off the walls of my soul like a whispered promise of vengeance. It was decadent—the knowledge that I was using Nick as both a means of release and a sacrificial pawn.
As he continued to tease and toy, I felt my resolve solidifying. "Nick," I breathed, a quiver lacing my voice. "Do you trust me?"
He paused for the briefest moment, a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, caught up in the whirlwind of lust. Did he reallyunderstand what that question entailed? "Yeah, Carli... I trust you."
I allowed a sly smile to grace my lips. Trust—the most powerful weapon I could wield tonight, a blade sharper than the knife concealed in my grasp.
"Good. Because tonight, you’re not just here for pleasure." I leaned back against him, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re here to make a mark—one no one is ever going to forget.”
With that, I pulled free from his hold and spun around so our chests were colliding, my heart racing with anticipation. The moment of reckoning was near. I leaned forward, pressing my body closer against his as I slipped my hand down into my bra to retrieve the knife. The cool metal felt like home as I discreetly maneuvered it into the light.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Nick asked, suddenly confused, yet intrigued, eyes darting between the knife and my gaze, the path of lust now clouded with hesitance.
“Shh...” I interrupted softly, feigning tenderness while deliberately allowing a predatory edge to creep into my voice. “I just want you to remember this night.”
Before he could say another word, I rose my arm, the knife a mind of its own. The world around us faded; the noise from the bar became a mere whisper as time slowed to a standstil, crickets and crows echoing in the dead night air. My knife, slick and glimmering, pierced through Nick's neck with a sense of finality. I felt that old fury rise to greet me, the memories of those stolen from me fueling the weight of my actions. Blood spilled from the gash and dripped onto my chest, splatter hitting my face.
Nick’s eyebrows furrowed as he drew back a little, stumbling, eyes widening in shock. But there was no escape now; he was caught in a trap of his own making. I followed his staggered steps to where I buried Riley and Nixon, and my blade then traced a precise line across his throat, drawing fine crimsonliquid that blossomed as deftly as my vengeance. His breath hitched, a strangled cry dying on his lips as panic filled his gaze, his blood dripping onto me. The control in his eyes faded as realization dawned; the seductive allure gave way to a primal understanding—he was not just my prey. He was my fucking statement.
As his body crumpled to the ground, gasps of shock and disbelief tearing from his lips, I felt a cathartic rush; euphoria dancing in time with the hell unfolding around us. The guys would have photos and trophies to tell their friends about, while this moment would be etched onto my soul forever—a memory of dominance and ruthlessness, like a whispered promise renewed in blood and darkness.
I stepped away from his lifeless form, the knife in my hand slick and stained. My boys emerged from the shadows, their masks like phantoms in the night, hungry for mischief and mayhem. They witnessed the beginning and the aftermath, the awe and terror in their eyes morphing into an exhilaration that no doubt, mirrored my own.
I turned to my crew, their silhouettes standing strong, and knew then that we were bound together by blood and secrets, a family born in pain and chaos. The darkness had become our ally, a savage playground of our retribution and ecstasy, and with it, we would rise and claim what was ours.
“Put his body in the mausoleum and let’s go,” I commanded, a wild grin breaking across my face. "I'll come back later to clean up."
Again, as we stepped into the darknesss, leaving behind the eerie tranquility of death, I savored what was to come—a night born from chaos thrumming with sadistic possibility, where the lines between predator and prey would blur into thrilling obscurity, where vengeance would be both my anthem and my legacy.
The air hummed with tension as we made our way back through the cemetery, the moonlight casting scary patterns across the fog-laden ground. My heart raced, not from fear but from the adrenaline that surged through my veins. Each step was deliberate, each breath a reminder of the mayhem we had unleashed. The guys whispered among themselves, their masks still clinging to their faces, and I couldn’t help but feel a wicked sense of satisfaction in knowing that they were fully in this with me. We were no longer the lonely misfits wandering through life; we were a pack of fucking wolves, ready to claw our way into the night.
Hunter, his skull mask adorned with intricate silver filigree, turned to me with a gleam in his blue eyes. "What now, Doc?" he asked, his voice low and steady, yet crackling with excitement.
I paused, taking a moment to let the thrill of our first kill soak into my bones. We had crossed a line, a line I had long been yearning to breach, and now my mind was racing with possibilities.
“Now,” I said, a smirk creeping across my lips, “we celebrate. But not just with drinks.”
Kell, still buzzing from the adrenaline and the alcohol, glanced around, his mask reflecting the shards of moonlight. “What do you mean? I didn’t sign up for more murders tonight.”
“Not murders,” I corrected, tilting my head slightly.
As we stepped into the shadows cast by the looming mausoleum, I felt the weight of our actions settle around us. The thrill of chaos lingered in the air, a sweet intoxicant that fed my need for more.
“Do you remember the abandoned amusement park? It’s all but forgotten, everyone thinks the place is haunted.” I grinned, my eyes glimmering with mischief.
“Haunted?” Jax echoed, confusion flickering behind his mask.
