Chapter Sixteen

Early in the morning, I am in the shower, wrapped around Arlo's waist as he fucks me against the soaked shower wall. My back slides up and down the slippery surface, my tits bouncing against his wet chest as he rails his entire length into me. Our panting lips lightly graze as we stare into one another's eyes and my moans grow louder with each stroke.

His eyes suddenly flash with something unsettling. He growls in frustration as he shifts me, slamming my back against the steamy, glass panel, knocking the air out of me. He latches onto the top for more leeway with his hands and starts to attack my mouth hungrily. His thrusts become stronger, more demanding, striking the deepest depths of my pussy. I can feel the tension in his movements, in his muscles, he's stressed, and he is taking it out on me.

He reaches down with one hand, his fingers bite into my ass, pinching and causing me immense pain, but I take it. When we both finally shatter, he presses his forehead into the crook of my neck, groaning while his cock titches and swells inside me, releasing his cum. As my pussy beats around him, my body jerking, I throw my head back on the glass, closing my eyes, trying to control my breathing.

As soon as he finishes, he lowers me to my feet. I watch as he gives himself a wash, then gets out. I stand under the water, finishing off, but observe him carefully as he stares at himself in the mirror, rubbing his brown hair with a towel. Once I'm finished, I tiptoe, turn the shower off and step out. Moving toward him from behind, our eyes meet in the mirror until I stop beside him. I wrap a towel around myself, tucking it in, then reach for my toothbrush.

"Stressed, baby?" I ask while not looking at him.

He remains silent as he continues to rub his hair and when he's ready to answer, he tosses the towel onto the counter in front of us.

"Not any more than usual." He says, then reaches out for his toothbrush. "I feel like we're getting fucking nowhere but that's about it."

I pause, turning my head and I study him. "These things take time, Arlo. You said that to me once."

He lets out a big exhale as he places a strip of toothpaste on his brush before passing it to me, his eyes staying fixed ahead as I gently take it.

"I feel like I've killed so many people since my return and I'm getting no results. I'm getting no fucking answers. Yeah, we've eliminated a lot of potential snakes, but where's the main culprit? When the fuck does it end? Who ordered that fucking hit on you and how the fuck does nobody know?"

I sigh and raise my eyebrows, staring ahead as well. "Maybe they worked alone and only that person, and the shooter were in on it. Who knows? Not everyone brags or opens their mouths."

I turn to face him as he starts brushing his teeth and I lean my elbow on the counter.

"I'm meeting my parents for lunch today. After dropping Lumi off to Sara and Cree at school, I have an important meeting this morning, but then I'm heading to the city." He stills before his eyes flash down to mine and I give a gentle smile. "Maybe it's time I speak to my mom." I suggest warily.

He searches my eyes before spitting in the sink, then wipes his mouth with a towel.

"If she wanted to fucking help, Wren, she would have by now."

I look down, knowing he is right, and the thought hurts me that they're still not willing to give the information that they know.

"Maybe or I hope it's just a case of it being a very delicate situation or they don't even know, Arlo. I hoping they still have our backs regardless." I murmur.

"Would you meet us there?" I ask, standing straight and he pauses again. "They did ask for you to come, but I know we're both working today on different jobs."

He inhales deeply, his big chest expanding, but his gaze doesn't meet mine. "Just send me the fucking address with a time and I'll see what I can do."

I smile gently, then tiptoe, kissing his cheek softly. "Thank you." I whisper against his skin.

As I exit my car in the heart of New York City, I open my umbrella, shielding myself from the downpour of rain.

Well, the sun lasted long.

Once Joe closes the door behind me, I glance around briefly, taking in the bustling street until my sunglasses covered eyes land on the place I am meeting my parents.

I take the short walk with Joe behind me and as he pulls on the door for me, I cross the threshold, closing my umbrella.

"I won't be long," I say before entering fully.

I look around the luxurious, dark, yet quiet restaurant, which appears to be closed to everyone, but us and while stepping forward, someone offers to take my long, black trench coat before leading me to my parents.

When I reach the far back of the building, I notice them sitting at a table in the corner, a chandelier casting a warm glow upon them. As soon as I am close enough, they both stand, each giving me a hug and kiss before I take a seat opposite them.

My dad looks like his usual self, but I notice my mom today is in a very formal, black suit, and her eyes are also shielded by sunglasses, like mine.

"No Arlo?" my mom asks as she settles in her seat.

"I'm not sure. I gave him the address and time, but he was busy today."

She nods in return and my dad lifts his hand to a waiter, singling for drinks.

"That's a shame, we wanted to face him personally to clear the air." she adds, and I sigh as I sink back in my seat.

"I'm going to be real with you both." I glance between them, their eyes fixed and focused, listening intently. "I need your help."

They glance at one another. "Honey," my mom says.

"I mean it, Mom. We can't move forward if this isn't finished. You must know something, anything, even if it's a crumb."

"And what if we don't have a crumb?" my dad says, capturing my attention and my mom looks away.

I look at him confused, "Nothing?"

"It's complicated still. Everything is all over the place. I don't want to bring any more trouble to you and Arlo without being one hundred percent sure in all this." My mom asserts and it annoys me, so I glance aside with a clenched jaw.

She reaches out from across the table, taking my hands and I slowly slide them away avoiding eye contact.

"Wren, you must understand, what we do and what you and Arlo do are two completely different strategies. If we give you a name, you and Arlo will go straight into this, killing everyone in your wake, because that is what lower Elite's do." My dad says firmly and my eyes flash to his.

"Anything we tell you; you must keep it between us," my mom adds, and my dad clears his throat beside her, trying to stop her from going any further, but she ignores him. "That means you keep it from Arlo as well."

My brows pinch, ready to say no until she interrupts, "It's in his best interest that he doesn't know yet. Not until we can really get concrete evidence that this person is the one who ordered your hit. It's vital he doesn't know."

My lips part, a small breath escaping me, but I don't know what to say. I've been hounding on the poor man to be truthful with me and now I am being asked to lie to him about something so big?

"But…" I breathe out.

"No, buts sweetheart, it's important." She says sternly, showing me her boss and mom side. "I think if I could just have you close on the inside, you might be able to crack this one with me. I only need to point you in one direction."

I gulp hard, my throat suddenly dry before reluctantly giving a small nod out of pure desperation to get this over with, and they both pause, searching my eyes for trust.

"Always remember no matter what, that this is just a hunch. Do not start killing people without knowing full facts. It's not how we operate. As soon as I say the name, you will understand." She declares, her voice steady.

My heart begins to pound, my palms sweaty and I wait in breathless anticipation. As soon as her rosy lips part to say the name, my father glances behind me and my mom follows suit. I close my eyes, knowing Arlo has entered and stopped what was about to be said.

I inhale deeply as we all stand to greet him, and I turn to face his way. He strides through the restaurant, in one of his tight, black, immaculate suits, one hand on his stomach, his Rolex glittering in the dim light while his other arm swings beside him. With his black shirt buttoned halfway down, he exposes his tattooed throat, chest and the heavy, silver knife necklace hanging from his neck.

His entire vibe reeks of power and it demands every ounce of attention, suffocating the entire room. His eyes are concealed by sunglasses as well which makes me realize we're all trying to hide our identity here today and have our criminal thinking caps on.

He heads in my direction first, bending over a chair slightly, he sets his hand on my ass before placing me a firm kiss on my lips. I smile at him then watch as he leans over the table and respectfully shakes my dad's hand before giving me mom a courteous nod.

As we all take our seats Arlo speaks, slouching back in his chair, "What no food? I'm fucking starving."

I grin, no longer shy about how or who he is in front of anyone. He peeks behind him, before whistling to a waiter with a click of his fingers in the air.

After ordering some food and our drinks are served, my mom decides to break the ice with Arlo.

"Arlo." she says, and he looks her way rapidly.

"I wanted to apologize for my decision making. I have realized my big mistake, and I know words are not enough to make up for it, but I will in time, prove to you that I have learned from my mistakes, and I will restore yours and Wren's trust."

Arlo possessively slides his hand into my inner thigh under the table as he keeps his eyes on hers, not at all being discreet about it which makes me somewhat tense up because I can feel his aura. He's not happy. He's still stressed.

"Oh, yeah and how do you plan on making up six months of your daughters and my sons tears Hazel?" He asks bitterly before taking a steady sip of his whiskey.

I lower my head, now feeling uncomfortable, but I stay silent because he is well within his right to face my mom in this manner and ask questions.

"I know it's not an easy fix…" she says calmly.

"No, you're fucking right, it ain't." he scoffs cutting her off and my eyes slowly close, biting my tongue with everything I have.

"In time Arlo, we will make it right for you, Wren and the kids." My dad pipes in from across the table.

I lift my head and turn it toward Arlo, noticing his jaw is tense and he is sizing up my father from behind his sunglasses. To try to soothe him, I place my hand on his thigh beneath the table and glance around at them all.

"It will take time. But what matters most is getting to the bottom of why this mess happened in the first place. Fighting about the past won't help that." I say, trying to calm the situation.

"You're right, Wren and as soon as I have all the information, I will be happy to give it to you and Arlo." My mom says as the waiters bring us our lunch.

After some uneasy silence and eating, my mom speaks once again, shattering it. "I was thinking…"

I look at her and Arlo lifts his head, slowly chewing on his food and she's addressing him, not me.

"Have you ever thought about becoming a Ghost, Arlo?" she asks quietly, and my breathing seems to stop all together.

Arlo takes a napkin, wiping his mouth while resting back in his seat, slouching one of his arms over the back of mine, then tosses his napkin onto his almost empty plate.

"I'm sorry, what?" he says, but in a tone that suggests that he is offended.

My mom shrugs her shoulders, "I mean, have you?"

Arlo swipes his sunglasses off his face, placing them on the table calmly, completely exposing his identity.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't hide behind anything or anyone, I'm no fucking pussy. I'm built to be the face of criminality and murder." He responds, his voice almost aggressive.

"Arlo…" I warn quietly, trying to reign him in.

My mom seems to take no offense. "That's your opinion Arlo and I respect it," she says. "But it does offer something that you don't have alongside your power."

He raises an eyebrow, "Oh yeah and what can could be more important than power to people like us?"

"Freedom," she retorts while straightening her shoulders.

Arlo freezes and so do I. I hesitantly glance over at him slowly beside me and he is just staring at my mom, lost in thought. The silence becomes uncomfortable.

"You wouldn't have to worry about all the threats coming to your home, to your family because you won't even exist, but you can also reap the rewards of the criminal underworld." My dad says from across the table and Arlo's dark orbs flash to his.

Arlo cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes on my fathers. "No threats coming to your home or family?" he asks. "So, what the fuck has been happening to you two over these past few years?"

His eyes flicker between my parents, but they stay silent because he does have a point.

"Is this more about the fact that you might be exposed as Ghost all the time I am with your daughter? You want me to hide away just save your fucking skin?" he adds.

My mom shakes her head, "No. It was just a suggestion. A lifeline to keep you all safe. The discussion is always open if you ever change your mind, and I am more than happy to help make it happen."

"You don't always need power by being the face of everything, Arlo," my dad declares, his tone sturdy. "Sometimes, the ones who stay in the shadows hold the most power. Anonymity can be your greatest weapon."

He pauses, his gaze sharpening as he continues. "And as for being in danger or exposed, that's irrelevant. Hazel has ruled as Ghost for many years, and if her identity ever came to light, she's more than ready to face it head-on. Being a Ghost doesn't make you weak—it makes you smart and powerful. Smart because all these so-called masterminds take orders from someone, they've never even laid eyes on, someone they could never touch. It's about fear. It's about influence. And neither of those requires you to be seen."

I draw my eyes away from my dad and look at Arlo again. His gaze is laser focused on him, his jaw set tight, but he doesn't respond, he simply moves his eyes to mine. He takes in my features, and I give him a small smile before glancing at my parents.

"That's not, Arlo." I say, my tone is distant yet truthful. "But thanks for the offer."

They both stare at me for a beat before my mom gives a sharp nod, "Of course. As I said, it's an option if you ever change your mind."

Suddenly Arlo takes my hand as he stands, and I stand too on instinct. As my mom and dad get up from their chairs as well, Arlo glances down at his Rolex, "I'm going to be late for my next meeting." He lifts his head, looking at me, "Don't you have somewhere to be as well?"

I inhale deeply before silently agreeing. As we say our goodbyes to my parents, my mom pulls me into a tight hug.

"Carmella." She whispers into my ear and my entire body tightens. We part and she keeps her hands on my shoulders, taking in my wide eyes.

"I'll see you soon, darling. If you need anything, you know where I am." She smiles softly, keeping up the pretense.

I gulp down the anger swelling in my throat and give a small nod. Arlo takes my shaking hand in his and guides me out of the building. Once we're outside, he doesn't release me, he drags me toward his private car and forces me to get inside first.

When I enter, I peer around at the luxurious interior, noticing the screen is up, separating us from the driver. Arlo gets inside, closing the door behind him. As soon as the car starts moving, his dark eyes flash to mine.

"Come the fuck here." He orders with a head gesture.

I take a deep breath, accepting his hand and climbing onto his lap. As I straddle him frontally, my gaze drops, my thoughts spiraling, Carmella's name echoing in my mind like a bitter reminder.

The weight of deceit crawls under my burning skin, but I now understand why my mom warned me to keep it to myself. First, I need to observe—watch Carmella more closely than ever before. Once I have all the facts, I'll take action. But what's the point of telling Arlo about a mere hunch? He'd just dismiss it. He's already furious with my parents, and now they're pointing fingers at his only parent left? I know him too well—he'd see it as nothing but spiteful malice.

I, on the other hand, am not so sure. My mother has made some terrible decisions, I'm well aware of that, but she wouldn't toss me a crumb unless she had truthful reason to believe Carmella's involvement in the hit was more than possible.

Since the day I met her, Carmella has given me an uneasy feeling, an undercurrent of something off. Her maternal instincts toward Arlo are basically nonexistent, and she's been the root of shaping him into the cold, detached man he's become. Was she pointing the finger at Charles all along while secretly orchestrating Arlo's downfall? The idea grips me, and suddenly, everything feels darker.

I sense Arlo's gaze all over my face and body, an intense feeling shivering up my spine at the thought of lying to him. It's as if he knows already that I am hiding secrets. I shouldn't be hiding anything from him given how much I pestered him to be truthful with me and he has been. But in my gut, I believe this is for his best interest. I won't make any bold moves until I'm certain.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" he murmurs, moving my hair over my shoulders with both his tattooed hands.

"Hm?" I ask, my eyes meeting his.

"I know you, Wren. What's fucking wrong?"

My brows pinch and I jerk my head back with a smile, "What? Nothing. I'm fine." I lie with everything I have.

He sighs, looking aside out of the rain-splattered tinted window beside us as we move through the heaving traffic.

"Is this because of how I spoke to your parents?"

My gaze softens and I move his face with my palm on his cheek until our eyes connect again.

"No." I say gently. "You were well within your rights to feel the way you do. You went much easier than I did when I saw them last. You're allowed to be angry, Arlo. I'm still wary too."

He takes my wrists and gives my hand a firm kiss.

"I know, but they're still your family, I just find it hard to shut the fuck up sometimes, no matter who it is." He admits.

As he inhales deeply and lowers his head, I watch him for a moment longer before I respond.

"You're my fucking family. We are family. And nothing—nothing—is more important than that. Not the blood that runs through our veins, not the people who made us, not the past that haunts us. This—what we have—is everything. It's ours. And no one can take that away," his eyes gradually meet mine and when they lock, I carry on.

"Not the family that gave us life, not the world that tried to break us. We are more than what they made us. We are more than the wickedness they passed down. Our connection, our love—it's stronger than any bloodline, any fucking mistake. We built this the hard way, and we will protect it with everything we have. No one, not even fate itself, will tear our little family apart."

He just stares at me, and I realize I just made a huge ass speech of passion, which will definitely raise his suspicions again. As his lips part to confront me, the car suddenly stops outside one of his buildings and I lower my eyes again.

"What are you doing today?" he asks calmly, and I lift my eyes.

"I have a small meeting with our link in Boston later on today about a shipment coming in, but I was just going to get some meaningless things done before hand."

He raises his chin, a sinister glint in his eyes, "How about you join me for the next hour or two?"

"Doing what?" I ask in curiosity, my head tilting to the side.

"I have a couple of murders to commit," he breathes out, wickedly.

I feel my heart pause in my chest, but I don't show any signs of how I am feeling as he tries to sniff out any vulnerability. I have never seen him kill before, well, not in his way.

I straighten my back before giving a sharp nod, "Sure. Why not?"

He gives me the faintest sneer before pressing a button on his right, activating the intercom to the driver.

"To the spot." He says as we keep our eyes locked.

My mind races with what I am about to witness. I've heard stories about Arlo, horrendous stories but I never thought I would be able to watch it firsthand and now I'm feeling a whirlwind of emotions. Curiosity, fear, dread, reluctance, and an undeniable thrill.

As we enter our spot, Arlo leads me down the long, densely lit corridor that leads to a room with his hand on the small of my back. Once at the door, the guard steps aside, granting us access and Arlo presses down on the door handle.

Once we enter the huge space, I glance around, taking in the familiar area. Dark, damp and suffocating.

"Get out!" Arlo shouts, ordering all his men to leave.

As his powerful voice echoes through the room, I continue to follow behind him until he stops and steps aside, revealing three men, bound to chairs, all facing one another in a triangle.

Arlo flicks his knife out from his sleeve as he moves around them until he is standing on the opposite side to me. I glance around at all the men. None are gagged and they're all staring at one another, as if they're silently communicating, accepting their fate.

"These cunts are head of the Chicago Italian Mafia," Arlo finally says, looking around at them all in disgust. "They have been trying to fuck with our main lineage for several weeks."

I stay silent, keeping my expression neutral as I wait for Arlo to continue, "Unlucky for them, peoples loyalty lies with The Hayes. Me. Us." He adds, waving his blade around carelessly.

I watch him carefully, unable to tear my eyes away. His aura is almost screaming at me, raw and alluring, like I'm seeing a part of him I've never fully seen before. He's captivating, holding my entire focus. Since his return, he's held it all together for my sake—his supremacy, his dominance, that's never weakened, but now, there's something more. A side of him I still barely witnessed before he was ripped away from me. It's vulnerable, unspoken, yet undeniable—a silent force that draws me in deeper, making me realize just how much I missed him, how much more there is to discover about this man.

The way he now shows me the tenderness and love I need, while remaining true to who he is, only deepens our connection. Every day I spend with him, I feel the unease that once gripped me loosening, replaced by a growing acceptance that we will be okay—that together, we are unbreakable. The effort he's poured into me, into our family, has been persistent, and I can't thank him enough for allowing me to truly see him, beyond the cold mask he once wore.

His exterior may be solid, but now there are cracks, just enough for me to glimpse the man beneath.

Arlo is powerful. Unforgiving. Arrogant. Loyal. A masterpiece carved from darkness and built on raw strength, but even from the beginning, I knew there was more to him than the brutal fa?ade. He is a result of betrayal, greed, and trauma—a man shaped by pain. Yet for those he truly loves, he will stop at nothing. His darkness doesn't define him; his love does. And in that love, I see a man who is willing to fight not just for survival, but for us.

He kept his promise—to make up for the time lost, to heal the fractures in us, in our family, in everything we once were. He hasn't let me down. Day by day, piece by piece, he fills the empty spaces inside me with the lightness I once held for him, even though he's still entirely drenched in gloom.

It's proof that even the most shadowed souls have the power to ignite something beautiful in others. His darkness doesn't smother me—it fuels a flame; a warmth I thought I had lost through the grief, and somehow, in that contrast, we've found a way to rebuild what was once shattered.

Arlo stands behind the eldest man, his eyes still locked on mine. "This is Grandpa," he says before pointing his blade at the middle-aged man. "Pa." Then to the younger guy, who I would estimate to be roughly Arlo's age. "Son."

I look at them all one by one until Arlo offers me his hand, drawing my attention. I take steps toward him without hesitation, my heels clicking against the cold floor and as soon as my hand slides into his, he clutches it tightly, flinging me against him. With my front pressed against his, he holds me close, his hand on my ass and he gazes down at me.

"Tell me, beautiful. Who should die first and why?" he asks, his enigmatic pupils licked with sin.

I gulp before peeking over my shoulder, scanning each of them until I land on the dad, thinking carefully.

"Pa should be left till last. He should witness his father and son die because of his stupidity." I mumble without an ounce of emotion.

Arlo's blade finds my cheek, pressing against my skin firmly as he turns my head to look up at him and his gaze drops to my lips as he responds, "Cold. I fucking like it."

He lifts his evil eyes to the men, gives my ass a squeeze and a tap, as if he is proud of my answer, then releases me. I watch his every move as he steps away, the air around him thick and deadly. He flicks his blade closed with a sharp snap, sliding it back up his sleeve before casually leaning down to lift a car tire, his strength effortless.

With a single motion, he hauls it back toward us and shoves it over the old man, trapping his arms tightly against his sides, his body hunched beneath the weight. Panic flashes in the man's eyes, darting frantically between his son and grandson, his breathing growing heavier, despite his attempts to hide it.

Arlo flicks a gas lighter, the small flame coming to life in the shadowed light, and then he gestures for me to come closer. As he steps back, I find myself standing in front of him, the weight of his expectation pressing down on me. He offers me the lighter, testing me. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for it, knowing full well what he's asking of me. I can't afford to be reluctant. Not now. I can't let him down.

Killing with a bullet—that's easy. Clean, quick with no lingering guilt. But this... This is something else entirely. It's cruelty on a level I've never touched before. I've always prided myself on delivering death with cold efficiency—swift, unflinching. But Arlo... he's brutal in a way that feels limitless, wild, and now he's about to show me exactly who The Skinner is, the kind of man who doesn't draw back at the chaos, the agony, the terror. He holds nothing back and offers no sympathy.

And yet, I have to prove myself worthy of standing by his side. I have to show him that I am ready for this, ready to tear down every boundary I've built around myself. We are claiming this city, marking our territory, and no one, not even this family, can fuck with us. So, I grip the lighter tighter, swallowing down the last of my hesitation, and prepare to show him that I am just as brutal, just as firm.

I move the flame toward the tire and as soon as it connects, the fire engulfs, wrapping around it like an inferno of fury. Arlo wraps his arm around my middle, dragging me back. The man screams are horrendous, his skin melting as his body thrusts around in suffering, but I don't tear my gaze away, watching the man I just murdered burn before my eyes. I glance around the room, seeing the other two with their heads lowered, not willing to watch their family member being burned to a crisp.

Arlo takes my hand, pulling me around until we're standing behind the youngest man. Arlo's presence is steady, intentional, as he takes a thick, transparent plastic bag from his pocket. My throat tightens at the sight before he hands it over, and for a brief second, I pause. But then, I snatch it quickly, knowing that doubt has no place here. Without a second thought, I thrust the plastic over the guy's head, yanking it tight, sealing his fate in one violent motion.

Arlo's hands follow, wrapping over mine, adding a deadly strength. Together, we suffocate him, the plastic pulling against his face as he thrashes, his breath trapped, his life slipping through his fingers. My heart pounds violently in my chest, each beat syncing with the rhythm of his desperate struggle. His body jerks and spasms, but there's no escape, only the slow crawl toward death.

Across from us, his father sits motionless, his face turned away, eyes squeezed shut, silent. He won't watch, but he knows. It's strange as the heaviness of the moment hits me harder than I imagined. I am still a mother, I still carry that heart inside me, a heart that beats for my own children. I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to witness this horror, to see my own family destroyed, suffocated in front of me, helpless.

But I can't let that softness in. Not now. I remind myself that I chose this life. This dark path, and there's no room for compassion, no point in entertaining those thoughts. Mercy has no place here. So, I shove it all down, burying the mother within me deep beneath the surface as the man's struggle finally starts to fade.

Once his body falls limp, Arlo slowly removes his hands from mine, and I release the bag. My breathing is shallow from the fight to keep pulling on the plastic and how long it took for him to actually die. I take a deep breath until Arlo takes my hand again, forcing me to do the last man as well. Standing behind his chair, Arlo looms over me like a shadow. When he ejects his blade, I quickly look down at it when he offers it to me, wanting me to skin him. He wants me to do what he does and peel his flesh away.

"Take the fucking knife, queen." He warns, biting his words against my ear quietly, not letting me hesitate.

I gently take his knife, and Arlo reaches around me, grabs the man's black hair, and yanks his head back for me to see his face. He keeps his eyes shut, his chest expanding with each deep breath through his nose.

"Thrust the knife under his skin and carve it the fuck away." Arlo commands wickedly once again in my ear, his dominance sending shivers through me.

I don't hesitate. The blade sinks just beneath the skin of his forehead, and his cries erupt instantly, ringing in the room. But they blur into nothingness as I focus on the crimson blood trickling down his face. Slowly, carefully, I begin carving, the sharp knife slicing through the layers of skin and muscle.

Arlo moves closer behind me, his presence enveloping me, as his fingers sweep my hair aside causing butterflies to swarm me. He flicks my hair over my shoulder with a strange care before his strong arm pulls me closer to him. His breath is hot against my neck, and when his lips meet my skin, a low growl rumbles through his chest, vibrating against me.

The sensation sends shivers down my spine, and for a moment, my hands falter, the job slipping from my mind as his mouth devours my skin. His tongue traces a slow line up the side of my neck before he nips at my earlobe.

"That's my good little good. You're going to be Mrs Skinner in no time," he murmurs with hunger.

His touch is urgent, rough, as his hand roams my body. He slides it down inside my dress, gripping my breast with a possessive squeeze, his fingers digging into the flesh. Each movement ignites me, stoking the fire burning between my legs.

"Arlo… We…" I exhale, my voice barely a whisper, lost in the haze of arousal.

The world outside this moment, the man beneath my blade, the blood, the screams—they all fade into oblivion as I become consumed by Arlo's touch, his control, his need. I try to keep going, but I am merely making it harder for the guy. I'm slicing his skin away with agonizing slowness, and he is suffering to the highest level, all because Arlo is getting turned on by me doing his torturous job for him.

"Arlo…" I plead again breathlessly, but he simply tears his hand out of my bra, swiftly taking my jaw and tilting my head back.

His hot mouth crashes against mine, his tongue forcing its way between my lips, silencing me with a demanding savagery that shows me that he has lost control entirely and there is no stopping him. His grip tightens around mine as he lifts my hand, and in one brutal motion, he drives the knife deep into the man's eye. The sickening thud reverberates through me, but the sound barely registers, drowned out by the urge to be fucked coursing through my body. The man's body slumps back, his cries silenced instantly.

Without warning, Arlo shoves the man's head forward, then his chest pushes against my back, forcing me to bend over and break off the kiss. My hands, slick with blood, grip the back of the chair for balance, my breath coming faster. There's no room for thought, no time to process. It's just him, and the power he holds over me.

His hands waste no time, hiking my black dress up to my hips, exposing me entirely. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my ass, squeezing hard before delivering a sharp smack that stings so fiercely, I wince. The pain shoots through me, but instead of moving away, I find myself arching into it, craving more. In one swift motion, he drags my panties down, letting them pool around my ankles. He grips my hips aggressively, yanking me toward him, bending me over further, making me submit entirely.

The scent of blood assaults my senses, the odor of burning flesh, but I ignore it. His rough hand slides under my dress, quickly unclipping my bra and as soon as it's loose, he grabs a handful of my hanging breast, kneading it harshly. The roughness sends a shockwave through me, the blend of pain and pleasure making my pulse race, my core tightening.

His belt buckle clinks as he unfastens it with a quick, impatient movement. His hand squeezes my breast harder, while the other pulls me back even more, claiming me with a possessiveness that takes my breath away.

When the pierced tip of his cock glides up my slick, wet slit, a tremor shoots through my legs. He teases the entrance, letting the heat build before both his hands find my breasts, gripping them tightly. He pulls me back, forcing my pussy walls to slide slowly down his length, feeling every pulsing vein, every ridge. A sharp gasp tears from my throat as I take him fully, the pressure mounting.

His hand wraps around the front of my throat, pulling me flush against his chest. He forces my head back as he bends his knees slightly to match my height, his sheer size overwhelming me. His tongue invades my mouth while he drives himself into me from behind—hard, deep, relentless.

My legs begin to tremble, my muffled screams against his lips rising in desperation as he pounds into me without mercy. His eyes never leave mine, intense and focused, watching as mine flutter and roll back with each thrust until I can hardly breathe. His grip tightens around my throat, suffocating me.

And just as I feel myself unravelling, he pulls out, leaving me aching and empty, but before I can even think, he spins me around by my hips. I nearly stumble in my tall heels, but he steadies me, a strong hand clamping down on the back of my thigh as he lifts me effortlessly. My arms and legs wrap tightly around his him as he walks forward, his pace fast, the need between us undeniable.

I can sense it in him—he's going to fuck me so much harder.

My back slams into the cold, hard wall, the force knocking the air from my lungs. His big frame crashes against mine, and before I can focus, his cock slides back inside me, the sudden stretch wrenching a cry from my lips.

With a rough yank, he rips my dress open, exposing my breasts to the cool air, his hands moving eagerly, pushing the fabric down my shoulders, then over my hips until it's bunched around my waist.

"Fucking little slut," he mutters under his heavy breathing.

He takes full control, his grip on my hip aggressive, tattooed fingers digging into my skin, bruising me as he pins me to the wall. His other hand snaps around my throat, clenching hard, my head cracking against the wall.

His dark eyes lock onto mine, pupils blown wide with lust. There's no hesitation, no restraint. He's fucking lost it. With a sharp thrust, he slams his entire length inside me, burying himself to the fullest, the impact driving me harder against the wall. Every plunge is brutal, violent, his pace unforgiving as he takes what he wants with my body pinned helplessly. The room fades into a shadow, the only thing I can focus on is the overwhelming sensation of his big dick sliding in and out of my pussy, pushing me to the verge of everything I can take from this beast.

"You're going to fall apart for me, harder than the love you claim to feel. Fucking show me, Wren—show me how deep it runs, how insane it makes you feel. Prove your madness mirrors mine—that every time I touch you, it ignites the same fucking fire inside. Desperate. Consumed. Fucking crazy," he murmurs, his panting words tangled with the heat of our breath.

In a matter of minutes, he forces me into a powerful orgasm, my body shaking uncontrollably, but he doesn't stop, he simply drives me in an overwhelming shock of euphoria. He's lost in his own sadistic madness and desire, pushing me far beyond my limits, holding back his own release while leading me over the edge again and again.

I come a second time,

Then a third,

My legs trembling as my come spills onto the floor, soaking his cock, my thighs, and even his pants. The pleasure is too much, almost unbearable, and just when I think I can't take it anymore, I feel him finally cave in, his grip tightening even more around my throat as he lets himself go.

His body almost gives way, his forehead crashing against my chest as his dick pumps inside me. I can feel it knocked the life out of him, his growl echoing through me. I latch my fingers into his dark hair, my head resting back on the wall as we both try to catch our breath.

"Fucking hell. I'll never get used that sensation," he mumbles against my sweaty tits.

"Me either," I whisper in response.

He eventually lifts his head, our dazed eyes immediately colliding, and he smirks ever so slightly, devilishly handsome which I return.

Then he pulls out of me and my body quivers, feeling the loss. My legs are weak and trembling from the brutality he just unleashed on me. He gently lowers me down until I feel the hard floor beneath my heels and steady myself.

He turns away without a word, fastening his zipper and belt as he strides forward, his usual cold demeanor slipping back into place. When he reaches down and carefully picks up my panties, crumpling them into his hand and slipping them into his pocket like he used to, a grin tugs at my lips.

Arlo begins to walk around the men, his detached, calculating eyes sweeping over them, assessing the aftermath of what we've done. My mind, however, is elsewhere—circling back to Carmella and everything else in the background. I need a plan, something smart and careful. I need a way to get closer to her, and it needs to be Arlo who suggests it. He is sharp, far too sharp for me to just mention this out of the blue without raising alarms. He's never asked why his mother, and I don't get along, but he knows something is off. If I say I want to work beside her, he'll sense it, and I can't keep it a secret if he asks me outright. There has to be another way.

I take a deep breath, lifting my wrist to check the time. Almost time for the meeting. I adjust my clothes, trying to restore some normality after what we just did and when I move to stand beside him, his dark eyes lock onto mine, a silent force passing between us. I step closer, lifting my arms to wrap around his shoulders, drawing him down to my lips, pressing a firm kiss to his while his arms cloak around me.

"I love you, baby. I'll see you at home tonight," I murmur softly, sounding the complete opposite to my shameful screams just moments ago.

He searches my eyes, his gaze lingering for a moment before giving a small nod. His chin lifts as he presses a tender kiss to my forehead, a rare softness from a man so consumed by darkness. The warmth of his body begins to fade as he releases me, the cold air quickly replacing the heat of his touch.

I feel the load of everything we've just done settling over me as I turn to leave, the murders we've committed together, the hard fucking I just took, all lingering in the air behind me and between my thighs.