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That in itself is enough to get my cock hard again.
The tattoos etched upon my skin, the cruelty coursing through my veins, and my involvement in the seedy underbelly of Manchester all serve to instill fear in others. And I revel in that fear. Yet, this delicate creature Summerbell, seated with legs splayed, dressed in leggings and an oversized tee covered with cum, barefoot and her blonde hair tousled, has bewitched me.
As I fixate on her every movement, my infatuation intensifies. She has become the perfect pawn in my twisted game against my brother. But now, there is something more.
I know that Ciarán is solely responsible for this entanglement. I bear his resemblance, share his voice and mannerisms—it is an inescapable aspect of our nature.
She looks at me, and she sees him, a rougher incarnation. What does that signify to her? It is difficult to discern beneath the façade of her brave countenance. But one thing is certain.
She sees me.
And no one has ever truly seen me.
Deep inside, anticipation simmers, mounting pressure akin to a tightly coiled spring on the verge of release. My fists clench, knuckles blanching as I await the moment when Ciarán shatters the entrance, heralding the climax of our bitter animosity, the culmination of years steeped in resentment and betrayal.
But for now, all I can do is observe and wait, my mind ensnared by the twisted fantasies and darkness that surround me. With Summer as my unwilling captive, I prepare for the tempest about to be unleashed in this forsaken warehouse.
As my gaze remains fixed upon Summer, her shoulder serving as a makeshift rag to wipe her face, my thoughts drift back to the days when our father built his empire, only to pass the reins to Ciarán. I recall the countless hours spent mastering the intricacies of the business, proving my loyalty time and again. Yet, it was Ciarán who inherited the mantle, leaving me with naught but a bitter taste of resentment.
“It should have been me,” I mutter, venom lacing my words. “I earned it. I deserved it.”
Co-leading the gang with Ciarán would have been the ideal partnership, united by blood and ambition. But he failed to see it that way.
I reminisce upon the day I expected him to extend the proposition, for we had always been a team, two halves of a greater whole. I had invested the effort, earned my stripes, and demonstrated to our father that I possessed the mettle to lead. But Ciarán never inquired. Instead, he chose to stand alone at the helm, leaving me and Caden to fester in his shadow.
Did he view me as a threat or simply unworthy?
That is a question I intend to pose today.
Every decision Ciarán made, each triumph he claimed, felt like a personal affront—a reminder that our father deemed him worthier than me. And now, with Summer here, bound and vulnerable, the power dynamics between us shall finally shift.
A wicked smile tugs at the corners of my lips.Let us witness how you fare in the face of loss, brother.
A sudden disturbance beyond the warehouse jolts me from my ruminations, pulling me back into the present. My heart quickens, adrenaline courses through my veins, and I brace myself for what lies ahead. Will it be Ciarán? Has he arrived to reclaim his precious possession?
“Reveal yourself, brother,” I whisper into the oppressive darkness.
There is no response—only silence and the ceaseless drip of water permeating the cavernous expanse.
The stage is set, and all that remains is to enact our roles within this twisted dance of power and desire. For now, I wait, concealed within the shadows, vigilantly observing Summer’s every move, my being consumed by a hunger that can only be satiated by one thing—retribution.
My fists clench involuntarily, knuckles turning white from the pressure. I watch Summer’s chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, her body trembling slightly.
The minutes tick by, each one an eternity of waiting and planning. How will he react when he sees what I’ve done to his precious Summer? Will the shock paralyze him, or will it ignite a fury within him that matches my own?
Either way, he’ll know that he brought this upon himself.
The warehouse seems to close in around me, the darkness pressing against my skin like a suffocating embrace. But I don’t shy away from it; instead, I welcome it, allowing it to wrap me in its cold comfort.
Poised like a predator ready to strike as the seconds continue to slip away, my desire for revenge and power only burns brighter. Only glancing back at Summerbell calms my soul. Her gaze meets mine as she looks up and sees me through the grimy window. She doesn’t look away; she holds my gaze, challenging me.
Knowing exactly what my brother sees in her, I let out a slow breath. She is an angel. Pure and perfect with her halo of golden tresses. Could she be the one to make me feel something other than derision, disgust and self-loathing?
Time will tell.
26
CIARÁN
