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In a brief moment of clarity, I push up on my toes.
His eyes darken. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
And then it comes—the intense tingle, like an electric shock at the top of my thigh near my groin. Blood, so much blood, immediately coats my skin and bleeds through my pants. Sylvester closes his eyes and inhales a deep breath, as if he’s basking in the imminence of my death. Somewhere in the distance, I hear my phone ring again, but it’s drowned out by the pulsing in my ears. I feel my body slide down the wall to the floor and realize he must have let go of my hair. My hand clutches my stomach.We’ve got this, Bean. We’re going to fight this. We have to.
Heat like nothing I’ve ever imagined jolts through my veins until it feels like I’m on fire from the inside out.I just want the cool comfort of the bare floor beneath me. I press my cheek against the tile as the sound of his voice rumbles in my ear. It’s deep but muffled.
I only hear every other word or so. “…wonder…fuck you…ass…coat my dick…blood…lube…” My pants are yanked down. The fabric cuts into my skin as it roughly slides over my hips.
His hand grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. He’s kneeling beside me, his cock covered in blood. His fist is wrapped around it. His fingertips dig into my jawbone. He’s—oh my God.No.
“Holy fuck.”
I hear the words clearly. They’re howled into the air as something wet spatters my face. The scent of it, the thickness of it as it trails from my brow down my cheek. The salty texture that coats my lips makes my stomach lurch.
I cling to every breath, every second, every thread of hope holding me together.
There’s laughter followed by the feel of him. Pressing. Nudging. Taunting me.There.The same place that brought me pleasure last night.
No.
No! No! No!
I want to fight but I can’t move. I open my mouth to scream but only a strangled sob comes out.
This man is sick. He’s depraved and vile and this is exactly what he wants—my screams. My cries. He shoves in, just enough for the pain to rip through me, tear at my skin, maul at my throat. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.
My scalp stings when he grabs a fistful of hair. My face slams against the floor, the impact pounding my right temple. Dots of bright light flash behind my eyelids. The scent of blood consumes me. Anguish and shame burn me alive.
I try to block it out, try to claw my way out of the darkness. I see Callisto’s face. It’s as if he’s standing right in front of me, even though I know he isn’t. I cling to the vision, thankful I’ve committed every feature to memory—whiskey eyes with a hint of chestnut, full, soft lips and a smile that could light up the sky. He’s so beautiful. His name even says so.Callisto.I want to tell him I love him, but my throat is dry and I’m fighting for air. My eyelids feel heavy, but I don’t want to close them. I don’t want to fall into the darkness. I’m not ready to be torn from this world.
My limbs grow heavy, and the pain starts to settle in. This is it. This is the moment I die.
I splay my fingertips across my stomach.“I’ll see you on the other side, Bean. We’ll watch over Daddy. It’ll be our turn to keep him safe.”The first tear falls from my eye and slides down my face.
The vision of Callisto blurs and fades. And then it all goes black.
I was right. I knew from the minute I walked through the front door of this house.
This is a day of goodbyes.
43
Callisto
The minute she’d called me and the line went dead, I knew something was wrong. I called back twice with no response. Then, I called the guy I hired to watch her house—someone Franco was in the military with—and he didn’t answer either. It took me five minutes to get from Suppato’s to her house—a twenty-minute drive.
Franco’s guy is sitting in his car with a bullet in his head.
God fucking dammit.
Adrenaline surges through my veins, anger rolling off of me in waves as I fling open the front door to her house. She’s lying on her stomach with one hand on the top of her thigh and one hand on her stomach. There’s blood—So. Much. Fucking. Blood. Her delicate body is surrounded in a river of crimson. Her eyes are open, but I know she doesn’t see me. There’s no light in them. There’s nothing at all.
My angel.
Sylvester’s eyes meet mine. He’s kneeling behind her. His pants are unzipped. His blood-soaked cock is poised at her ass.
If I’d have been thirty seconds later my angel would’ve fallen. He’d have clipped her wings.
