Chapter 211

Chapter 211

War

Then I unzip.

Free my cock. Slide into her slow.

She's not bone-dry—thank fuck for that. It doesn't make this any easier for me. But it's enough to not hurt her.

She gasps behind the gag, but nothing else. No moan. No cry. Just a full-body tremor as I push in, each bar of my Jacob's ladder dragging against her tight little pussy like muscle memory.

Logan groans in the back of my mind, his voice cracked and ravenous. "She's letting us fuck her."

"No," I snap back. "She's letting me."

She'd never let him touch her like this.

And after this, I'm pretty sure she'll never let me near her again, either.

Not that I would blame her.

I grip her hips and start to move. Not gentle. Not slow. That's not the show these fuckers came for.

I fuck her like I'm staking claim—deep, steady strokes that pull whimpers from her throat, muffled by the gag.

Her back arches. Her breath stutters.

And fuck, she's not the only one shaking.

"Goddamn," I mutter, my jaw tight. "You feel every fuckin' piercing, don't you?"

My grip on her hip tightens as I bottom out inside her.

But my eyes don't leave Silas.

He's smirking back at me, and I don't know if it's because of how roughly I'm fucking Alyssa... or because he just heard the best news of his miserable life.

Probably both.

Fuck. I bet the Reapers just walked right into the trap.

Of course they did.

No one counted on the old man having spy gear tucked in his desk—tech that picked up the tracker in her wedding ring like it was nothing.

I just hope they can fight their way out before it's too late.

"Yeah, hurt that bitch!" one of the guards yells.

I shoot him a look that could carve skin.

He shuts the fuck up, his eyes dropping as he swallows hard.

Didn't realize I was taking audience suggestions.

I turn my focus back to her—because right now, nothing else matters.

Just her.

Just us.

Getting through this one brutal thrust at a time.

"You're fuckin' soaked, sweetheart," I murmur, low and rough, my voice meant for only her. "You picturing them watching us instead?"

She doesn't answer—but her body does.

She gushes around me. Tightens. Grips hard.

Good.

If we're crawling through hell, the least I can do is help her drag some power out of the fire.

Suddenly, Silas presses a finger to his earpiece, grinning like the devil himself.

"Looks like your little rescue party is dead. The car they followed our decoy in was just blown to bits."

Alyssa goes rigid. Chokes on a sob.

"Bullshit," I whisper harshly. "He's lying. You know that. King's smarter than that. He's coming. They all are. Just hold on."

I don't care what he says—I won't believe they're dead.

Even if they followed the wrong scent, they'd never believe Silas just rolled out with her in some random-ass van.

And the shaky breath she exhales tells me Alyssa's thinking the same thing.

I slam into her harder.

But rage is clawing at the walls of my chest now.

I won't finish. Can't.

But I have to make it look like I plan to.

Because the second I stop, she's just a body to them. Passed off like a used fleshlight to the next sick fuck in line.

And that? I'll never allow.

I promised to protect her.

So I do the only thing I can.

I keep going.

Keep shielding her with my body.

Keep faking it like this is the best fuck of my life.

Because that's the role.

And right now, the act is all that's keeping her safe from all the monsters in this room.

My hand wraps around her throat—gentle, grounding—and I pull her back against my chest.

She's warm. Shaking. Still here.

I lower my mouth to her ear.

My fingers slip between her thighs, rubbing tight circles over her clit. She jerks. Her pussy squeezes around me, desperate, pleading.

"Come for me, little psycho," I growl. "Let them think I broke you."

Her breath stutters—then catches.

And she shatters.

Silently. Beautifully. Her body rippling around me like she's thanking me in the only way she can.

Thanking me for staying.

For protecting her.

Heat floods my cock and I almost lose control.

Not from lust.

But from the new, unfamiliar sensation only she's ever made me feel.

Love.

I press my lips to her shoulder. Just once.

Then—

Boom.

The door explodes off its hinges.

I jerk my head up.

But I don't reach for anything.

I don't have to.

They're here.

King.

Niko.

Mason.

Covered in blood. Faces carved with wrath. Guns up and ready to turn this whole room into a massacre.

The guards don't stand a chance.

They drop like dominoes—blood spraying across the floor, furniture, and walls.

King crosses the room like a launched grenade and grabs Silas by the throat. Then he slams his face into a desk with a crunch that shakes the air.

Damn. I felt that in my teeth.

I pull out of Alyssa fast, stuffing myself back into my pants with shaking hands.

"Thank fuck," I mutter, breathless. "No way in hell I was gonna finish like that."

Then I drop beside her, tear off the gag, and gather her in my arms.

Her face is red. Tear-streaked. But she's breathing.

I kept her alive.

"I'm so fucking sorry," I whisper, rocking her against me like I can erase every second of what just happened. "It's over. You're safe now."

She doesn't speak.

Just holds on tighter. Sobbing with relief.

And as I cradle her against me, one thought burns bitter in the back of my mind:

I'll probably never be able to have sex with her again after this.

That was our first time.

And Silas ruined that for me forever.

But for now?

For now, I can hold her.

And that's enough.

At least until the rest of this hellhole burns down.