The prey

My skin was on fire, prickling under the intensity of his touch, and it was too much.

I didn't even remember ripping off the woolen scarf and tossing it into the backseat of the car. The cold air bit into my exposed neck, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of this monster's arm around my waist.

His cane tapped rhythmically as we walked, his sunglasses shielding his unreadable eyes from the world, the prettiest and perfect illusion of blindness.

Ask me, I'd write his tales with better pen.

I didn't know why he bothered to bring me along.

Kyle trailed behind us, stiff and silent like always, with guards I didn't recognize shadowing our every step. My ankle throbbed faintly, a dull reminder of the price I'd paid for being careless. But the pain was manageable-nothing compared to the six feet four inches bastard that tower over me like a storm cloud.

We were escorted to the private dining area, what caught my sight first was the large table at the center, surrounded by men. Lavish, refined, the room felt like the very essence of wealth. A slow Russian sonata played in the background, the soft music lulling the air into an eerie calm. Waiters stood by, motionless, like soldiers awaiting orders.

I'd rather stay with them then associating myself with these dangerous men.

My gaze flickered to the men sitting around the table. Some of the faces were familiar, shadows from that fateful night. Except for one face-Donatello-whose ghost must be lingering nearby. A cold shiver crawled down my spine as I remembered him. He was dead. Judas killed him. And yet, here he was-or rather, the memory of his lifeless eyes still haunted me.

I was jolted from my thoughts when a hand brushed my back, snapping me back to the present. "Little lion," one of the men-Carlo, I thought-greeted Judas with a smirk, but his eyes cut to me.

I stole a glance at Judas. His lips twisted in that wicked way they always did when he was about to tighten the noose. He tugged me closer, as if claiming me in front of them. The room stilled, the air thick with power plays and unspoken threats.

The me. Definitely shifted at his sight, some even made the faces of pure loathe. They didn't like Judas, but like me, they had no choice but to play to his tunes.

Carlo pulled out a chair for Judas. But I couldn't help but notice, there was no chair for me. Just a cold, vacant space between two men.

I was not going to sit there.

I hesitated, my stomach clenching as I wondered where I was supposed to sit. Judas, of course, didn't miss a beat. His cane tapped once on the ground, the sharp sound cutting through the silence.

"Sit beside me, ptichka." His voice, smooth as silk, held an undertone that sent a ripple of unease through me.

I turned to him, my heart pounding in my chest. There was no seat. I was about to open my mouth to protest when he patted his thigh. "Or my lap."

The words fell like a nail to the coffin, and my breath hitched. The men around the table watched with interest, but none dared speak. I could feel their eyes boring into me, an trust me, their eyes were as hodded and disgusting.

Adjusting the bodice of the dress, I wished they would stop staring at my chest.

I swallowed hard, every nerve in my body screaming against what he was asking. But there was no escape. Not here. Not now.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto his lap, feeling the hard muscle beneath me. His arm slid around my waist like a serpent coiling around the bird.

My skin crawled as I sat there, trapped between his body and the table, exposed to the gazes of these men who saw me as nothing more than Judas's plaything.

"Good girl," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. I could feel his smirk, the satisfaction radiating from him like heat off a flame. He lived for moments like these-moments where his control over me was absolute.

Carlo leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between us. "I see you've trained her well, Romanovski."

My chest tightened. Trained? Like I was some kind of pet?

Judas chuckled softly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on my side as I dared not to foinch. "She learns fast," he said and then his voice lowered with amusement. "Doesn't she?"

I clenched my fists in my lap, fighting the urge to pull away. I felt like a lamb being led to slaughter, but Judas was no shepherd-he was the wolf. And the men at this table, they were his pack.

The conversation continued, but it felt distant, like I was watching a play unfold from the sidelines. Judas's fingers moved up to my neck, lightly brushing my skin. Every touch was a reminder-he held all the cards.

He never shy or hesitate to touch me, even in public. Like it was his right to invade my vicinity and make me feel uneasy.

The food was soon served, and I had no appetite unless the monster behind me grumbled in my ear.

"Eat," Judas said softly, pushing a plate toward me. The command was clear, even if his tone wasn't harsh. Obedience. That's what he expected.

Fight. That's what I wanted to give.

Unless I had mood of some spanking.

I picked up a fork with trembling fingers, the food tasteless in my mouth as I forced myself to chew. Judas's hand never left my body, his touch possessive, constant. He was staking his claim, ensuring that everyone in the room knew exactly who I belonged to.

But the truth? It felt like I was losing pieces of myself, just like he promised. Piece by piece.

"Morozov's shipments are still on schedule," one of the men spoke up, but I didn't look up. "But that won't last long once we get through with them. The docks are ours for the taking."

Judas's hand on my waist tightened ever so slightly. He leaned back, his demeanor calm, yet his presence dark and predatory, like a viper waiting to strike. "How many men will it take?" His voice was low, unhurried. Like he had already planned in his head. And maybe he did. Because Judas was clever. Always two steps ahead.

The man across the table-broad-shouldered, with a scar across his cheek-smirked. "Fifteen at most. They won't expect us. They think we're too busy licking our wounds after that last attack. But we'll torch their shipments and leave their men bleeding in the street."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. They spoke of death like it was nothing. Like the destruction of lives was just part of another day's work.

Judas chuckled softly, a sound that sent a chill through the air. "Good. Make sure the bodies are left where they can see them. Morozov needs to know I am not playing games anymore."

The men at the table shared dark smiles, as though they were already picturing the carnage in their heads. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to disappear, to slip through the cracks in the floor and escape this nightmare. But Judas's arm kept me anchored to his side, and there was no escape.

"What about her?" I stiffened. One of the men nodded in my direction, his eyes scanning me with a hunger that made my skin crawl. "Does she know how to… entertain guests?"

A wave of nausea rose in my throat. I could feel the eyes of the men on me, their gazes stripping me bare. I stiffened, trying to shrink into myself, but there was nowhere to hide.

Another man, his smile cruel and sharp, leaned forward. "Romanovski, you keeping her all to yourself? You should share. A woman like that, it's a shame to waste her."

I wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words died in my throat. My pulse hammered in my ears, my chest tightening as their words sank in. This was normal for them, degrading a woman to nothing more than a possession, a thing to be used and discarded.

Judas's fingers trailed along my waist. He remained silent, though I could feel the shift in his demeanor, the subtle warning in the way his hand held me tighter.

The man with the scar raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Or is she more trouble than she's worth? You could send her our way. We know how to tame wild ones."

Before I could fully process the venom in his words, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor cut through the tension.

I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat.

She walked in like she owned the room. Tall, elegant, and dripping with a kind of beauty that was dangerous. Blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, and her green eyes-piercing, cold-swept over the men around the table. Her hips swayed with every step, her confidence a sharp contrast to the darkness that hung in the air.

My stomach twisted. Her. It was her. The woman I'd seen with Judas. The woman from that night.

"Veronica," one of the men muttered, nodding in acknowledgment. The others followed suit, offering quiet greetings as if she were royalty.

But she ignored them, her gaze locked on Judas. She walked straight up to him, leaning down with a slow, deliberate movement before pressing her lips to his in a brief but it was still a kiss.

I couldn't look away. The burn in my chest spread, an ache I didn't want to acknowledge. I shouldn't feel this way. I had no right. Judas was a monster, and yet... there it was.

He kissed me with that same mouth he kissed this woman.

Veronica's lips curled into a seductive smile as she pulled away. "You started without me, love," she purred, her voice smooth as silk, laced with something dangerous. She trailed a finger along his jaw, her eyes gleaming. "You know I hate missing the fun."

Carlo tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "We've only just begun, Veronica. Don't worry. There's plenty left to enjoy."

Judas gaze flicked to me, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as though he could see right through me, see every inch of discomfort I was feeling. A slow smile spread across his face.

Before I let my emotions resurface and strike him hard across the face, I averted my gaze. The bastard could kiss a pig for all I care.

Veronica straightened, her fingers lightly trailing over Judas's shoulder before she took a seat beside him, crossing her legs in one graceful motion, exposing the skin and I caught a glimpse of her red thong. "So, what's the plan tonight? Do I get to watch?" Her eyes gleamed as she looked around the table, her voice dripping with amusement. "Or better yet… do I get to play?"

The men chuckled, their eyes lighting up with anticipation. One of them raised his glass. "To Veronica, the true lioness among us."

A chorus of toasts followed, and I sank deeper into my chair, my pulse racing. The air felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

Veronica's gaze lingered on me, and a slow smile played on her lips. "What's the matter, darling?" she asked, her voice sweet, venomous. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I swallowed hard, unable to find my voice. The burn in my chest intensified, like a fire I couldn't put out. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't feel this way.

But it didn't matter. The feeling was there, gnawing at me, eating me alive.

Judas's hand slid up to my neck, his thumb brushing the back of my ear. "Don't be shy, ptichka," he murmured. "You'll get used to it."

Get used to it? As if I'd ever get used to your existence you psycho.

I grabbed the wine glass. If not respect, I could get drinks from him. And gulped down it in one go. The hell with this man. A man-whore. That's what he was. His pretty face was just a facade and nothing else. A brute. A manipulator. And a dying rotten corpse. That's what he was.

The laughter around the table grew only louder, and I felt eyes on me. Lifting my head instinctively, I sensed Carlo's disgusting gaze on my chest.

It was like they were circling a wounded animal, closing in, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I could feel it-those predatory eyes, the lewd grins, the sick anticipation hanging in the air.

I was having another drink when a felt something trailing up my ankle and I jumped startled spilling the drink all over my chest.

"Take it slow, darling." Another caress and Carlo's sick grin widened. I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to slam the glass on his head.

I wanted to move, to bolt from the room, but I was pinned in place, trapped. I was fully prepared for it-this-for him to throw me into their laps like he had that night. My body braced for it, for the humiliation, the degradation.

The bile rose in my throat.

The fact that Judas chose to remain silent throughout and his body unnaturally still.

"Bet she screams pretty," one of them muttered, and I snapped my head at him.

Tears burned but I just glared at him.

"Why don't you give her to us? Let's see if she's as wild as she looks."

"You want her?" Judas asked.

My heart stopped, and for a moment, everything in me went cold. This was it. The moment I'd been dreading. My body tensed, waiting for Judas to push me off his lap, to dump me into their waiting arms like some discarded toy.

But instead, his grip on me tightened. His hand slid up to the back of my neck and he leaned over my shoulder.

"Alas, I'm not in the mood of sharing her."

The laughter around the table faltered. "Come on, little lipn. We're just having fun. No harm in letting us-"

Before he could finish, Judas moved. It happened so fast I barely registered it.

His hand left my neck, and in a next second, he grabbed the dull cutlery knife from the table. The next moment, the blade was buried deep into Carlo's eye. The sickening crunch of bone and flesh echoed through the room as the man let out a bloodcurdling scream, his hands flying to his face in shock.

Blood spurted across the table, the scarred man convulsing in his chair as Judas twisted the knife with a slow, deliberate motion. His face was calm, detached, as though he were handling a minor inconvenience rather than gouging out a man's eye.

Everything fell deathly silent. The other men froze, their faces pale with shock as the reality of the situation hit them.

And I, I just…. stared.

Judas leaned in close to the man's trembling body as he adjusted his glasses. "I missed his neck."

He ripped the knife free with a brutal yank, and the man slumped back in his chair, clutching his face as blood poured from the gaping wound where his eye had been.

Judas straightened, wiping the blade clean with a napkin with methodical movements. And his other hand returned to me, resting on my waist as if nothing had happened. As if the man bleeding out in front of us was just a minor inconvenience.

Judas casually leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lazily on my waist. "Anyone else have something to say about my property?"

No one dared to speak.

I sat there, frozen, my mind reeling from what had just happened. I had expected humiliation, degradation-but this… this was something far worse.

Judas's grip on me tightened, and he turned his head ever so slightly, his lips brushing against my ear. "Shh… no one can touch you now."