Chapter 163 Chapter 163
Reed
I used to dream of vengeance in abstract terms: justice, retribution, balance.
Now?
Now I fantasized about murder.
Vivid, specific, painstakingly detailed murder.
Amber.
That lying, scheming, backstabbing bitch.
She had stolen my life, broken it into pieces, and pissed on the shards. And now, every waking moment that wasn’t filled with pain or humiliation was filled with her—burning, rotting in my head like maggots in a wound.
I wanted her gone. Erased. Wiped clean from the Earth.
Sometimes I imagined poisoning her. Slipping a little something colorless and odorless into her wine while she lounged in my living room in my silk robe, watching some pretentious movie with my husband on our couch. She’d start coughing halfway through the film. Clutching her stomach. Gasping for breath. Foaming at the mouth. Rayne would panic. He’d hold her while she seized. And I’d watch from the shadows. Smiling.
Other times I preferred something more… intimate. Up close. Personal. A blade. Something dull, slow, meant to drag the pain out. I’d start with her hands. I'd slice through the tendons, leaving her useless. Then carve out her face with a mirror in front of her. Let her see her own blood as I slowly disfigured her. Her own panic. I'd tell her exactly what she did to me. Every. Single. Detail. And I wouldn’t stop until her sobs matched the ones I buried into my pillow every night.
I could bash her skull in. Find a brick. Slam it into her smug little face until it caved in like a rotted pumpkin.
Or maybe I’d wait until she was asleep. Sneak into the house, pull the covers back gently, and slit her throat while she dreamed sweet dreams in the bed that should’ve been mine.
Rayne would wake up to a corpse. He’d scream. He’d cry. Maybe then, then, he’d realize what he had done. What he had lost.
"Reed."
The sound carved through my thoughts like a jagged knife.
My body flinched before I even recognized the voice. Skull. Of course.
I blinked, coming back to the cell—cold, gray, and humming with fluorescent buzz. I was still sitting on the edge of the piss-stained mattress, hunched over like a corpse brought halfway back to life.
Skull looked at me from his chair. He always sat like royalty, as if the very air should bend around him. He had his boots up on a low stool, hands folded across his lap, that usual smirk already curling his lips.
“What are you thinking about?” He asked.
I gave him the same answer I always gave when he caught me slipping into my own mind.
“Nothing important.”
He stared at me for a second too long, like he knew I was lying but didn’t care.
Then: “C’mere.”
My stomach dropped, but I stood. It was second nature now to repress the dread and move when he said move. The cold floor bit at the soles of my feet as I crossed the cell. My legs ached. My back was stiff. I barely registered the soreness anymore unless I shifted the wrong way.
When I reached him, I did what was expected. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and began to pull them down, eyes blank, heart pounding even though I tried to pretend I didn’t care.
“Put it back on,” he said casually. “Did I ask you to strip?”
I froze.
Then slowly, silently, I pulled my pants back up and refastened them. He didn't let me wear underwear anymore, once again for easy access. He liked me almost naked and ready. Not that I had anything left to hide now.
I stood there, unsure of what the hell he was planning.
He patted his thighs.
I didn’t need words. I climbed onto his lap like a trained animal. Sat still. Rigid. Every part of my skin screamed to be anywhere else.
His legs were wide and strong beneath me, covered in coarse denim. I felt disgusting. Like I always did.
He reached up and ran a hand through my hair. Rough, but not painful. Just enough to remind me he owned even that part of me. My hair had grown out past my ears, brushing against my shoulders now—greasy, uneven, constantly in my face. They didn’t let me have scissors either.
“You’re really pretty for a Beta,” Skull commented casually, dragging his fingers through a particularly tangled section. “Your parents must’ve had crazy good genes. No wonder the Alpha was so obsessed with you.”
It took everything in me not to snap.
Stop touching me, you disgusting pig. And keep my husband’s name out of your filthy mouth.
I didn’t say any of that. I just forced a smile, lips twitching upward like a marionette puppet being yanked by invisible strings.
“Good pet,” he praised, like he could feel my self-loathing and loved the taste of it.
He leaned in, his breath hot and sour against my cheek.
“You’ve got a sexy body,” he murmured. “Make pretty sounds. I’m not even gay, but I can’t seem to get enough of your tight ass.”
I felt my jaw tense, hands curling into fists in my lap.
Breathe.
Don’t bite. Don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
I kept my voice even.
“Is there something you want?” I asked. “You want me to suck you off?”
He chuckled. “Not a bad idea,” he tutted, “but that’s not why I called you.”
I shifted on his lap, wincing internally as pain flared along my spine. All I wanted was for this interaction to be over. Let me go back to my corner. Let me rot in peace.
“I’m known to have… sadistic tendencies, yeah,” Skull said, tracing his fingers lazily along my collarbone now. “But I’m not a complete monster. You don’t have to be scared of me.”
That was laughable.
He continued. “As I was saying, I like you. More than I expected to. You’ve been a good pet. Loyal. Obedient. So I figured, maybe I should reward you.”
That got my attention.
“A reward?” I repeated, cautiously.
He nodded. “Yeah. Like I said before, I’ve got pull in this place. You want something? I’ll get it for you. Something reasonable, obviously.”
My pulse kicked up. Was this real?
“Anything?” I asked.
Skull shrugged. “Within limits. You want clothes? Something to eat? Something shiny to hang around your neck?”
Then his eyes darkened, his tone shifting like a trap door swinging open beneath my feet.
“But,” he added, “you can’t ask to back out of having sex. You belong to me.”
I nodded, quickly. “I know. I wasn’t going to ask that.”
“What do you want then?”
I swallowed.
“I want a phone call.”
He went still.
A long pause stretched between us, the air thick with warning.
“You better not be planning to call the Alpha,” he threatened, his voice dipped low. “Don't tell me you're still hung up on that man even after he left you to rot. Do I need to remind you who you belong to now?”
“No. I don't want to call him,” I cajoled immediately. “I swear. I’m not calling him. I just want to talk to my mum. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I miss her.”
He watched me.
Studied me like a predator gauging prey for the lie in its blood.
Finally, he leaned back and sighed.
“Good. I’ll let Voss know. You can have your call. But you’ve got five minutes. After that…” His hand slid down to grip my hip. “I want you on the bed on all fours. Ready for me.”
I nodded, voice barely audible. “Yes.”
He gave my thigh a light slap and shoved me off his lap. I stood, dazed, while he motioned toward the door.
Minutes later, an officer arrived without a word. He just pointed.
I followed.
The halls were cold, but my mind was too full to feel it. Was this really happening? Was I really going to get to speak to someone who didn’t want to hurt me?
The thought alone nearly made me cry again.
When we reached Voss’ office, it was empty. The bastard was gone.
For once, thank the gods.
The officer gestured to the landline on the desk. “You’ve got five,” he said, then shut the door behind me.
Just me and the phone.
I stood there, frozen. Staring at it. Like it might disappear if I blinked.
Then I moved—slow, shaky—picked it up, and dialed.
My mother’s number.
The one I hadn’t touched in six years.
My heart clenched like a fist in my chest.