Chapter 179

"It's this," he whispered dangerously. "Just seeing that you're breathing, talking, cursing me as if you could have any power over me drives me fucking crazy."

I wanted to translate what those words exactly meant, but my brain was more occupied with exploring the luxurious sensation that made my pussy pulse.

My heart hammered against my spine, in a pain so pleasurable that my lips parted, ready to moan. The air was thinning, and the need to find somewhere to numb my lungs was immense. I would do anything to catch my breath, just to dull what I shouldn't be feeling.

Every damn cell was aware of that touch. Of how Dante was willing to go to hell in that millisecond.

His gaze never left me. I feared he could see what was happening inside me. That he could read what I was thinking.

Dante expected me to push him away. To curse him again. To kick him and scream, but I couldn't. Not when so many wars were raging inside, and I wanted to win them all. I wanted to be victorious until the end.

Maintaining his enigmatic expression, Dante pulled me closer, forcing me to stand on tiptoe. I didn’t know what he truly wanted. What reaction he expected from me, but I was weak when I parted my lips in a breath of dense air as I felt something poking me.

His cock was greeting the warm, tight space my legs made.

Christ.

If I blinked, I would tear up from a pleasure too undeniable and dangerous for me.

My nipples were swollen and exposed to be devoured. I hadn’t been satisfied in ages. There hadn’t been room in my life to enjoy the sensations of my body, so that touch was driving me mad. But I couldn't. Not with Dante. Not with the one who killed my parents.

"He’s dead," I finally accused.

Faulkner took a while to process. He was lost in my eyes until my face froze and any trace of pleasure had to be boxed away.

"The guy’s dead. He’s not breathing anymore."

Dante let go of me and checked if the man was dead or not.

"It’s time to clean this up," he whistled, ignoring how we had been combusting seconds before.

I nervously twisted my fingers, feeling hot.

I cursed myself for every dirty thought I had about Dante. How my body reacted. And how much I liked the way he responded.

Watching his bare back and his shoulder blades with an unreadable tattooed phrase while he removed the nails from the man's arms brutally, his black pants always stained and his hair messy, yet perfectly harmonious with his face was decadent.

I didn’t want to watch.

I didn’t want to admire.

"Are you feeling better from the pain?" he asked after ripping the last nail off and the man falling to the floor like a feather.

"Yes."

"Why don’t you have any medication? I thought it was basic for any woman to have something for cramps."

"Because I don’t have money." His attention was quick on me, even though he was busy wrapping the body. "I’m poor. Sometimes I don’t know if I’ll have food on the table the next day. Do you really think I could afford medication?"

Once again, there was nothing readable in Dante’s expression.

"You didn’t work?" he asked.

"Not enough, it seems."

"Don’t talk in the present," he scolded, tying the dead man’s wrists. "You’re living here now. You don’t need to worry about that."

"But in months, I won’t be here anymore, and I’ll have to go back to the same concerns," I retorted, hearing him mutter under his breath. "I’m not rich like you. By the way, do you also steal money? Where did you get all of this?"

"I started when I was fifteen, doing odd jobs as a killer."

"Oh."

My throat tightened.

"I didn’t kill innocents. I was called by people seeking revenge. People whom justice hadn’t done anything for," he confided. "Mothers who had lost their children to pedophiles, scammers who fucked over dozens of lives. Sometimes I scared the shit out of them. Sometimes I offered the idiot’s heart to the client. It depended on how much they paid me. And it was a lot. Enough to keep me going until today."

My mind dropped into deep thoughts.

"Even when we were friends?"

A crooked smile formed on his lips.

"We were never friends, Emília. You know that." My chest trembled. "But yes, even back then. I knew I would need the money someday. Vance too. We worked together for it."

I don’t regret it. I couldn’t regret it.

I raised my eyebrows in contemplation.

Of course, he wouldn’t regret it. Dante breathed to kill those who didn’t please him.

"You act like you want to be a God."

"I don’t want to be a God. I want to be the one who destroyed them all. I want them to remember, even when I’m buried and suffering in Hell, that it was me who faced them when no one else could."

His words were honest, furious, bloody.

I stored them in a safe, dark place inside me.

Dante closed the last set of limbs and stood up, stretching his back. His minutes of silence were unbearable, but I settled into watching how he was wrapping the body. Some compresses were placed in the orifices, like the mouth and ears, and a large plastic was used to cover it.

When Dante placed the man on his shoulder, his arm toned by the absurd strength he exerted, his eyes met mine again.

"The password is your birthday."

"What?"

He didn’t continue his line of thought, heading out of the lab.

I wouldn’t be alone down here, so I decided to let him lead the way to the main floor. It didn’t take long before we noticed the house was already full.

The guys were still in their cloaks, but they seemed relaxed as if they hadn’t just exterminated an entire family.

"How was it?" Dante asked.

"The same as always," Asher yawned. "Jaxon forgot we were on a mission. Could’ve been bad if they were listening to us."

Faulkner didn’t like hearing that.

"It’s a lie, man."

"It’s true," Cole interrupted, eating an apple after washing his hands. The bare minimum. "He almost said our names."

"Why the hell was Vance’s son trying to kill those guys without knowing where the hell the women were locked up?" Jaxon replied, annoyed.

I wanted to laugh. They could piss off even the sweetest among them.

"We could’ve searched that house," Asher said.

"Sure. And we would’ve wasted valuable time, damn it," Jaxon retorted.

"I wonder why the hell you guys were looking for the women?" Dante asked, placing the large body bag on the floor and entering the kitchen-living room.

"We weren’t gonna leave them there, man," Cole spoke up, surprising me.

"What did you do?"

"We gave one of them a phone and asked her to call the police," Asher declared, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

"And if they give information they shouldn’t?" Dante asked, irritated. "Don’t act like good Samaritans, damn it. It’s not gonna take you anywhere. It could be dangerous as hell."

"But they won’t say anything," I argued. "They’re grateful. More than grateful, I’m sure. Even if they’re the villains to many, whoever offers freedom will always be a hero to that person."

Dante shot me a look, losing his anger little by little. His chest rose and fell frantically until he found a steady rhythm again.

"I’ll deal with this body. Be right back."

Faulkner left in a hurry. I followed, still not understanding his agitation. However, before he opened the door and climbed the stairs to the outside, even though the hall wasn’t lit, I saw his eyes shimmering and immense sadness accumulating in them.

"I don’t do this for me like you think. I don’t save anyone because I want people to be fucked up like me. I do it for them. Because I know that if they feel too much about what’s happening, they’ll regret it, and it’ll be too late. If they try to save every lost person, they’ll lose themselves, damn it. They’ll fall into a mental abyss where the fall seems like the only option."

My heart crushed.