No.
Please God, not again.
The bulge pressing hard against his pants tells me enough, and the small relief I felt seconds ago disappears instantly. But somehow—terrifying as it is—the thought of him fucking me feels easier to survive than another second under Cain’s torture.
“Seriously?” Cain says with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re really gonna fuck her again?”
Dom’s eyes roam slowly over my body before a crooked grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Look at that blood covering her pretty cunt, bro,” he mutters while squeezing himself through his pants. “How the fuck could I not?”
“You’re fucking sick.” Cain laughs under his breath, sounding far more entertained than disgusted.
“Just let me have my fun too,” Dom says casually, stepping closer while my breathing turns uneven again. “Then you can keep playing butcher.”
“Unbelievable,” Cain mutters, smirking. “I’m pretty sure Reed’s rolling in his grave right now.”
Dom glances at Cain with obvious satisfaction before turning his attention back to me, slow and disturbingly pleased.
“Nah,” he drawls. “Reed would’ve fucked her brains out too.”
Chapter 28
Dom
“Fuck, kitten,” I whisper against her ear, barely able to drag my focus away from the blood staining her body. “You look fucking unreal right now.”
My hands move over her slowly after that, almost greedily, spreading blood across every inch of ruined skin I can reach, while crimson smears beneath my palms in thick, uneven streaks. The second my fingers brush over the fresh cuts carved into her stomach, a sharp hiss slips past her lips, her entire body tightening against the restraints above her head, but she still doesn’t say a fucking word.
Not one plea.
Not one insult.
Nothing except those broken little breaths shaking out of her every couple seconds. And honestly? I’m pretty sure I know why.At this point, I think she’d rather have my cock inside her than spend another second under Cain’s knife.
The realization settles deep in my chest with something dark and ugly that feels way too close to satisfaction.
Her skin burns beneath my hands as I slide lower, gripping her waist harder while blood keeps running over my fingers in dark red streaks before dripping from her body onto the floor below us. She trembles violently the entire time, exhaustion making her legs weaker with every passing second, and I can practically feel the exact moment she starts leaning into my touch instead of trying to pull away from it. Like her body already knows which one of us hurts less.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cain mutters somewhere behind me, sounding halfway amused. “You’re seriously obsessed with her.”
A grin slowly pulls at my mouth while my hands keep moving over her body, smearing blood across ruined skin as another shaky hiss leaves her lips the second my fingers brush over the fresh cuts carved into her breasts.
Maybe I am.
But not with her.
I’m obsessed with the sight of her hanging there covered in blood and bruises while her body trembles beneath my hands hard enough to rattle the chains above her head every couple seconds. I’m obsessed with the tears still clinging to her lashes, with the way she keeps trying not to cry anymore even though her breathing turns uneven every time someone touches another open wound, and with the look in her eyes that keeps shifting between hatred, fear, and complete fucking exhaustion.
Because this version of her? This broken, bleeding version standing in front of me right now? That’s the one I can’t stopwanting. I don’t care about what’s happening inside her head, and I definitely don’t give a shit about her feelings. I don’t want soft conversations, pretty smiles, or whatever the fuck people are supposed to care about.
What I want is the blood running down her body. The sounds she makes when pain twists together with fear. The way her thighs shake harder every time my hands touch another ruined part of her skin. And maybe that’s exactly why this feels so fucking good. Because every tear sliding down her face, every trembling breath leaving her mouth, every fresh cut split open across her body feels like another piece of Reed finally getting avenged after ten goddamn years of carrying that grief inside my chest like something rotten and alive. For the first time since we buried him, it almost feels like the rage is finally feeding on the right person instead of eating me alive from the inside out. Like all that rot sitting inside me finally found a body to crawl into instead.
I turn my head toward the couch where Cain’s already sitting, completely relaxed, like the blood covering the floor and the girl hanging half broken a few feet away from him mean absolutely nothing. One arm rests lazily across the back of the couch while the other raises the whiskey glass to his lips, the calm expression on his face somehow making the whole room feel even more fucked up.
“You sure you don’t wanna join us?” I tease him with a grin while my hand slides slowly down Sierra’s waist. “Last time all three of us played together, our little kitten was moaning so hard she could barely fucking breathe.” I breathe out slowly, watching Sierra tense beneath my touch. “I’m pretty sure she’ll love it just as much this time too,” I continue casually while my eyes drag over the blood running down her thighs. “With or without a gun pointed at her pretty little head.”
The second the words leave my mouth, a broken sound slips out of her throat before she can swallow it back down, and suddenly her entire body is fighting the restraints again while raw shock crashes across her face so hard it almost looks painful.
