She winced and I let my lips curl. The defiance, the fire, and the burning rage in her eyes turned me on. How much I'd love to stomp on the remnants of her courage. The brave face she put forward though she was nothing.
Eyes fervently locked on mine, refusing to look away. Brave little thing, but I could see the fear hiding behind that defiance. It thrilled me and sent a shiver down my spine. Hell, I wanted to break her.
I leaned in closer, feeling the heat radiating off her trembling body. Her scent filled my nostrils-fear and something else. Something sweeter. I could almost taste it. My tongue traced my lips, savouring the thought of what was to come.
"Still fighting?" I whispered, letting my breath tickle her ear. Her eyes widened slightly, just a flicker, but I caught it. She was scared, oh yes, but still trying to hold on. Pathetic. Beautiful. She didn't know that resistance made it all the more enjoyable.
I brushed my fingers down her cheek, feeling her flinch under my touch. So fragile. So easy to break. I could already imagine her on her knees, begging, her voice cracking as she pleaded for mercy. But there would be none. Not from me.
Her lips quivered as she tried to speak, but I silenced her with a thumb pressed against her mouth. "Hush, Ptichka," I murmured. "Save that sweet little mouth for later."
Her breath hitched, and I could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the realization that she was losing this fight. I let out a low chuckle.
My hand trailed down her neck, feeling the pulse race under my fingertips. She was alive, so very alive, and I was going to consume every last bit of her. My cock hardened at the thought of her crying out, of her submitting to me completely, body and soul.
She'll be mine. Every last part of her.
I watched as the last bit of fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by cold fear. Perfect. I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers, loving the way she stiffened under my touch.
"Tomorrow night," I promised, pulling back and watching her struggle to regain her composure. "I'll have you screaming my name. And you'll love every second of it."
She didn't respond, just kept those defiant eyes on me, but I could see it now. The cracks. The fear. The submission waiting to be pulled from her. I smiled, dark and wicked.
Her submission went straight to my cock. She was holding back, trying to play the obedient little girl, but I could see it-the war in her eyes, the rebellion simmering just beneath the surface. It was intoxicating, and fuck, did I say I wanted to fuck her?
She fisted her hands around the loose fabric of my trousers. My name would be the only word on those pretty lips when I was done with her.
"Kyle will drop you at the dorm," I said, forcing myself to step back, even though every fibre of my being screamed to stay, to pin her down and take what was mine. "Have this night to yourself, 'cause tomorrow it'll belong to me."
Her lips parted, and I watched, entranced, as she drew in a shaky breath. She was so close to talking back, so close to that final act of defiance. But then she clamped her lips shut, swallowing whatever words were on the tip of her tongue. I smiled, the darkness in me relishing her restraint. Good girl.
She lowered her head, nodding, accepting her fate. My cock throbbed at the sight.
I imagined her beneath me, her body trembling as I spread her legs, her sweet cunt wet and ready for me. I'd tease her, make her beg, make her plead until she was nothing but a quivering mess, dripping with need. My fingers would sink into her tight little pussy, feeling her clench around me as I fucked her with slow, deliberate strokes, savouring every gasp, every moan.
And then I'd devour her, my tongue lapping at her soaked folds, tasting her, claiming her. I'd keep going until she shattered until she screamed my name and came so hard she'd see stars. And even then, it wouldn't be enough. I'd watch her cum drip down my elbows, and the sight alone would be enough to drive me wild.
Tomorrow, she wouldn't just be mine. She'd be ruined for anyone else. And fuck, I couldn't wait.
I motioned to Kyle, who was already at the door, and he quickly understood. He was good at that-picking up on my silent commands, knowing exactly what I wanted without a word. My little bird stumbled, her bare feet dragging as she walked to the couch where her bag was. Her hands trembled as she grabbed it. Then, without looking back, she ran to the door.
My eyes narrowed as I watched her. Where the fuck did she think she was going barefoot? A part of me flared with irritation, but another part-darker, more primal-didn't care. What did it matter where she went or how she left?
She could walk naked in the snow for all I cared, as long as no one else was watching. The thought of anyone else seeing her like that made my blood boil. That perfect body, those soft curves-they belonged to me. No one else was allowed to look, touch, to even think about her.
And fuck, I wanted to corrupt her.
I wanted to strip away that defiance, that fire, until she was nothing but a trembling, obedient little thing, begging for my touch, craving the darkness I could offer her. The world outside didn't matter. All that mattered was what I would do to her, how I would mold her, break her, and put her back together the way I wanted.
She reached the door, her back still to me, and I felt a twisted satisfaction knowing she was running-but there was no escape. Tomorrow, she'd come back to me, and I'd make sure she never wanted to leave again.
Kyle opened the door for her, and she darted out, her bag clutched tightly against her chest. I watched her go, my cock still hard.
Soon, she wouldn't just walk out the door. She'd crawl, her body aching, her soul shattered, every last bit of that fire extinguished.
And I'd fucking love every second of it.
I frowned walking back to where the scattered photos were. And picked up the one I had been staring at for hours.
It was her family. Her father, mother and a miniature version of her. Her brother.
My little bird looked young in that photo, with a wide smile on her lips and she had her arms wrapped around her father.
When did this all start? Was it when she waved that gold brick in front of me? Or was it the time she caught me fucking Veronica? I knew what I was thinking then, the wild thoughts that raced through my mind. It took every ounce of self-control, every shred of patience I could muster, and fuck, it was so hard. The single touch of her skin had been maddening, the way her body had reacted, just a taste, just a tease.
But it wasn't enough. The pussy I wanted to just fuck-God, it was more than that. I was tempted to do things I'd never done before, things I'd only imagined in the darkest corners of my mind. I wanted to bury my face between her legs, taste her, devour her until she was screaming my name.
I wanted to feel her walls clenching around my fingers, to watch her cum drip down my elbows.
But not yet.
I had some things to sort for now.
My little bird wasn't the only one I wanted to destroy.
There were two motherfuckers I desperately wanted to rip apart.
My phone rang. My eyes darted to the table, and a frown etched itself deep into my face. Why the fuck was he calling me? I tilted my head, hoping the numbers on the screen would disappear, but they didn't. Instead, a text followed: Pick up the damn phone, you bastard.
I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Look who's calling me a bastard. With a roll of my eyes, I finally answered. "Ciao."
"Did you kill Maroni?" My jaw ticked as his sharp voice was followed by a defeated sigh. I smiled.
"Nice to hear from you too, Padre," I leaned back in my chair talking in the same accent I picked up from my father. "I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking."
"Don't play games with me, Judas," he snapped for the first time ever since I could recall and I realise I had truly fuck up. "Did. You. Kill. Maroni?"
I let out a mock sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Why do you always assume the worst? Maybe I just wanted to chat, catch up, you know? Like normal families do."
"You're not normal, and we're not normal," he shot back and I heard someone snicker from behind. "Answer the fucking question."
"Fine, fine," I drawled looking at the ceiling. "Maroni… Maroni… Oh right, the guy who thought he could cheat us and get away with it. Yeah, I took care of him. He's… let's just say he's not going to be a problem anymore."
A heavy silence hung and I could almost hear him grinding his teeth on the other end.
My father had always been a pacifist. But a psycho at that, a trait I got from him. The pacifist would rather use his blade to talk and not the tongue. I had seen him with blood cover his body and not his.
"Why didn't you inform me?" he sighed and I could imagine a look of defeat on his face. My father loved his family, me included, but the thing was, I didn't need love. What I needed was chaos and I couldn't thrive in chaos in Italy where my family lived.
I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me. "Didn't think you'd care, old man. Figured you had better things to do than worry about one insignificant cockroach."
"You're reckless," he hissed. "You have no idea what you've set in motion."
Was I reckless in killing Maroni? Yes. Would that be a problem? Definitely. Did I regret it? Fuck no.
"Oh, spare me the lecture," I shot back. "You wanted Maroni dead, and now he's dead. Isn't that what you wanted? Or are you mad because I didn't ask for your permission first?"
"You're playing a dangerous game, Ragazzo," he warned. "I told you to stay put and not put yourself in danger. Your mother has been worried sick ever since she heard the news."
Mother. Ah, I almost forgot about her. Always the one to fret over every little thing, but never the one to pick up the phone and call me herself. She'd rather stew in her worry, whispering her fears to my father, hoping he could somehow rein me in. She thought I was the unhinged one, the loose cannon in the family. But really, had she ever taken a good look at her husbands?
"She's always worried," I said dismissively. "It's kind of her thing, isn't it? Worrying about things she has no control over."
"Watch your mouth," he snapped and I rolled my eyes. "She's your mother, and she cares about you."
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. "Cares about me? Is that what you call it? She's too scared to call me herself. Always hiding behind you, pretending she's the saint and I'm the devil. But we both know the truth, don't we, old man? You've got more demons in your closet than I do."
"That's enough," he growled. "This isn't a joke, Judas. You're on a path that leads to destruction."
I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair. "Destruction, huh? Sounds like a family tradition. You've walked that path your whole life, and now you expect me to play the good son and avoid it? Please."
"There's still time to change," he pressed, and I could hear the desperation creeping into his tone. "You don't have to be like me. You don't have to make the same mistakes."
"Maybe I don't have to," I gritted. "But I want to. I'm not running from this, Padre. I'm running toward it. Embracing it. It's in my blood, just like it's in yours."
A heavy silence fell between us, and I could picture him on the other end, struggling with the reality that his son was every bit as twisted as he was, maybe even more so.
"Your mother-" he started again, but I cut him off, my patience thinning.
"Enough about her," I snapped. "I won't stop until I have my revenge. Not after what happened to Zayne. Till then, I'll keep dancing with the devil. It's the only thing that makes me feel alive."
I ended the call before he could respond, my jaw clenched and I suppressed the fire in me. But it was rising, the flames were consuming.
A ticking time bomb, seconds away from detonation. Memories burned like the inferno within me. Blood. It was all I could see, all I craved. The taste of vengeance was sweet and intoxicating. I'd tear them apart, piece by piece. Make them feel every ounce of pain they inflicted.
No more waiting. No more mercy. They would bleed, and I would watch as they did two years ago. The fire in my chest burned hotter, brighter. It consumed everything and left nothing but ashes of who I once was.
'Judas!'
My eyes snapped shut as the haunting voice echoed in my head. And then a gunshot. This time that didn't hit me but instead I visioned it pierce through Lucius's head.
And as for my mother-well, she could keep worrying. Because I was just getting started.