Chapter Eighteen

It's the day after that strange dinner with Jasper's mom, and it keeps annoying at me like an itch I can't scratch. I don't know why it's bothering me so much, but it is. When I talked to Wren about it, she agreed, saying maybe she's still unwell, but I don't buy it. She's not insane—she knows exactly what the fuck she's doing.

Sitting behind the massive desk in the center of my dark, gothic office, I slump in the leather chair, thoughts spinning. And, funny enough, my mom's sitting across from me.

"She said that?" she asks, disbelief clear in her voice after I had explained the bizarre encounter.

I nod silently, and my mom scoffs sharply, looking off to the side. "She's clearly still not right in the head. I can't believe they let her out when she's still unstable. Poor Jasper."

I lift my brow, rubbing my chin in my fingers, studying my mom as she takes a shaky sip of whiskey. She's pissed off, I can tell.

"I want you to stay away from her, Arlo." Her eyes flicker to mine as she leans forward in her seat, her tone dead serious. "She's nothing but trouble. Always has been. Do not trust her."

I cock my head to the side, considering my mom's words as I run my tongue piercing over my bottom lip.

"I think I need a holiday," she admits, and slumps back in her chair with a sigh. "I've booked flights to travel across Europe next month."

I mull it over and she's probably right—she's been through some shit since my father's death, and then mine. She deserves some peace.

"It'll do you good, mom," I finally answer.

She meets my gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips, her eyes gentle for the first time in what feels like years.

"I'll be back in no time," she assures me.

Just as I'm about to respond, the door suddenly bursts open, slamming against the wall. My eyes dart to it, and there stands Wren—her gun in hand, her gaze burning with fury. I just stare at her, unblinking, as she fixes me with an evil glare.

"Savannah? When were you going to tell me?" she barks with anger.

I exhale a huge breath, tilting my head back against the chair, already exhausted by this argument.

"Wren," I groan, trying to warn her that I'm not in the mood for her bratty tantrums right now.

"Don't 'Wren' me, bastard," she snaps, her words sharp and biting.

My head tilts forward quickly, my eyebrow arching, shocked at her audacity to storm in the fuck in here and give me shit. My mom rises from her seat, but I can feel her rage simmering beneath her composed exterior.

This is about to escalate fast.

"You're seriously not threatening my son?" my mom cuts in with disbelief, her eyes flashing to the gun in Wren's hand and I roll my eyes, not surprised she'd take the defensive.

Before I can respond, Wren aims the gun at my mom and my brows furrow, confusion and irritation rippling through me. What the fuck is she doing? This ain't like her—disrespecting my fucking mom like this. Not in front of me.

"Give me a fucking reason, Carmella," Wren growls, her tone carrying that dark, raw energy that only the Elites possess. It drives me insane in the best way, but right now? It's about to make everything fucked. Shit I can't be bothered to deal with.

My mom turns toward me, gesturing at Wren with growing frustration. "You need to fix her, Arlo. She's clearly not made for this if she's just waving a damn gun around. Disrespecting you like this."

"Shut the fuck up, Carmella!" Wren yells in response.

My patience cracks as my gaze flashes to Wren with fury.

"Wren!" I warn again, but she just turns the gun on me, pointing it squarely.

My brows shoot up as I lock eyes with her, feeling the intensity in her gaze, and I don't look away, instead, my jaw tightens with irritation.

"Mom, get out," I say in an eerily calm tone, keeping my eyes fixed on Wren.

"But—" My mom protests, shocked.

"NOW!" I bark, not breaking eye contact with Wren. My voice shakes the room as I hold her gaze, the tension between us dark and suffocating.

My mom doesn't hesitate when I let my wrath show. As she exits, Wren's narrowed eyes track her until the door clicks shut behind her, leaving just the two of us. The only sound in the room is the rain tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me. We remain locked in a staring contest, both silent, anger hanging between us.

Wren's chin lifts in defiance, and she slowly steps toward me, her movements graceful despite the gun still aimed at my head. I watch her, unmoving, maintaining my position in the chair as though nothing about this situation rattles me. Because it fucking doesn't. Little fucking brat.

She squeezes in front of me, hiking her skirt up slightly, then swings one leg over mine, straddling me. I feel her settle against my dick, the heat of her pussy pressing against me as she brings the barrel of the gun to my temple, never breaking our dark, intense eye contact.

Her breathing, though controlled, betrays her—a little too quick, a little too shallow. I feel it brush against my lips, but her fear isn't of me. It's of my unreadable demeanor, and I can tell it's driving her crazy.

"Why, baby?" she whispers, her tone soft yet laced with wickedness. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She presses the cold metal of the gun harder against my temple. I arch a brow, still completely unfazed, watching her eyes blaze with fury as my calmness only makes her angrier.

"Tell me!" she snaps as she bucks her hips against me. Her cunt rubs over my length, teasing a response from my body even as my face stays flat.

I can feel her unravelling in the space between us, getting turned on from the fear like the fucking slut she is. My patience starts to snap like a thread pulled too tight. Her words ooze with seductive poison, daring me to break.

"You think I won't blow your brains out, Arlo? You think I can't live without you again?" she whispers, the threat lingering on her tongue, teasing me, but finally pushing me over the edge.

In a flash, I'm on her. My hand shoots up, gripping her wrist tight enough that her fingers twitch around the gun. One more squeeze, and I could snap it in fucking two. She winces, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps now. My other hand latches onto the back of her neck, pulling her in until our faces are so close that our are noses pressed together.

"Because of this, you crazy bitch," I raise my voice bitterly. My eyes bore into hers, gleaming with a dangerous intensity that makes her flinch, despite her bravado. "You can't fucking control yourself."

Her chest heaves with each breaths, but her stance remains stern, which annoys me further. Without warning, I release her neck, dip my hand beneath her skirt, and tear her panties clean off her body. She hisses from the intense sting, her thighs clenching around me.

I bring the delicate, red lace to my face, pressing them against my nose, and inhale her sweet cunt and ass with my eyes closed, my mind going crazy. I'm going fucking insane, and she's going to feel the full wrath of my inferno.

"Don't you dare touch me, Arlo," she says, trying to stay in control, but she seems to have forgotten who the fuck she's talking to.

My eyes flash open menacingly, locking onto hers. "And you're going to do fucking what if I do?" I growl, which makes her body tremble.

"This ass," I roughly pull her skirt up to expose her skin before lifting my hand.

Smack!

"Belongs to fucking me," I growl as I squeeze the juicy flesh bruisingly until she winces in pain.

"These tits," I grab her silky, black blouse, tearing it violently until her red bra is exposed, the buttons flying everywhere.

I snatch her breast tightly, eliciting a loud gasp from her lips, her eyes squeezing shut.

"I own fucking them." I taunt aggressively near her face, enough to feel it vibrate through her.

"This cunt," my hand dips between her thighs, and I clutch her pussy lips tightly with my tatted fingers, pinching them harshly until she cries out.

"MINE!" I shout and her body tightens in response, my loud, deep voice echoing through the room.

"And I'll do what the fuck I want to you." I finish quietly, my fingers easing on her pussy.

She gasps for air, struggling and I squeeze her wrist once more, "Drop the fucking gun, Wren."

She shakes her head once, so I squeeze again, and she cries out, dropping it. As it falls, I release her wrist and catch it. My feral eyes move all over her, breathing heavily, the sadistic arousal pumping through my veins like a venomous river.

I flick her hair away from her tits with a snarl, my gaze wanting to see the bulge on her cleavage. My cock expands with each passing second, heaving, and desperate to fuck her. When she tries to stand off me, I wrap my arm around her back, yanking her down onto me.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" I snap and she looks at me with expanded eyes, now knowing she's pushed me too far.

In my delirium, I split my legs wide, forcing hers too as well. I dip the gun between us and press the tip against her entrance. Her entire body stiffens, but I don't give her time to react.

"You want to keep pointing your fucking gun at me?" I snarl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking it back, eliciting a sharp hiss from her. I slide the barrel inside her wet pussy, a cry tearing from her throat as her eyes squeeze shut.

"Let's see how you like feeling under threat by the person you love," I whisper menacingly.

Her wide eyes snap open, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"Fuck it until you come and pray with each passing second that I don't blow your cunt apart."

"I…" she gasps, her voice trembling.

"NOW!" I shout.

She swallows hard, but eventually lifts her hips with a seductive sway that makes me growl in approval. I observe as she takes it slow at first, getting use to the cold metal sliding up and down her walls. I can only imagine it feels fucking foreign and dangerous which only pleases my sick mind.

My hand untangles from her hair and moves down to her bare ass while I keep the gun steady between her thighs. She rides it, just as I ask, gripping my shoulders for support. My fingers skim down the split of her ass as I watch her intently, how her breathing comes out shallow, how her tits bounce with each thrust. When I reach her puckered little hole, I press my fingers firmly against it, feeling it twitch against the tips with each drive downward.

My mind floods with twisted possibilities, wanting to push her over every boundary she has. I start to rub roughly, making her eyes roll back in lust.

"You like your gun inside your tight cunt, Wren?" I ask coldly.

Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, but they also glitter with dark arousal that she cannot hide. Without warning, I slide my finger into her ass and her head snaps back while I press as deep as I can get it.

"Fuck the gun harder, you slut." I mutter the order.

As she presses her pussy downward, taking more of the barrel, I finger fuck her asshole at the same time, loosening it and I feel her come slowly pooling on my hand that is wrapped tightly around the gun. She starts to lose herself in the heat of the moment, her climax nearing, unable to stop herself. Her moans grow loud, uneven, unable to breath until finally, she submits.

Frustration builds inside me rapidly and I grab her throat mid-orgasm, lift her little body off the floor by my hand as I stand and slam her down on my desk. The movement causes her to let out a groaning scream from the climax and the pain. I yank her closer to the edge until her ass is hanging off it, legs wide, then slide the gun back inside her pulsing pussy.

Her back arches, her body convulsing as I fuck her cunt hard with it, my hand tightly around her throat to keep her bound and when she tries to lock her legs on instinct, I force them open aggressively with my elbows, making her take the entire thing inside her.

"You will learn your fucking lesson, Wren." I growl between her screams. "Every time you think in your pretty little mind about pointing that gun at me, you'll remember this moment and how I violated you with it."

The gun becomes soaked, hardly able to hold it because it's coated in her slickness. In my madness, I release her throat, unbuckling my belt with a swift urgency to step up the crazy between us. I dip my hand into my boxers, flopping my rock-solid cock out and I gaze down, letting spit fall from my lips and hit the pierced tip.

When done, I guide myself to her asshole and she reaches down, seemingly trying to stop me, but I catch her wrist, holding it tight. I ease my cock into her little ring. A scream gradually leaves her the further I enter, slowly, inch by inch. She feels so fucking tight with the gun inside her pussy at the same time.

As soon as I'm balls deep, I slide my cock back down her walls before pressing my entire length deep again. Her body tenses, almost rejecting me as I fuck both her holes simultaneously, but she doesn't scream no. She will always be my obedient little slut, letting me do as I please to her.

No matter how sick. How twisted. How wrong.

"Arlo," she cries out, her voice strained and pleading.

I lean over her, hovering my face above hers.

"Is that you saying no to me, slut? Do you want me to stop?"

We exchange intense eye contact, mine are firm while hers are wide, our breathing extremely heavy, but she says silent.

"Then shut your big fucking mouth for once," I growl, shoving my fingers in her mouth causing her to gag around them, her asshole crashing my cock in the best way possible.

"Now suck them while I fuck your throat, your pussy with your own goddamn gun and your ass with my dick, until you're coming undone around all three."

She slowly locks her plump lips around them, her hands latching around my wrist as I start to thrust my fingers in her mouth.

"Such a good girl for me," I praise.

As I start to fuck her asshole again, slamming into her, the gun effortlessly slides in and out her wet cunt. The entire scenario drives me feral and soon I am wrecking all her openings at the same time, destroying her. Teaching a lesson in the most fucked up way.

My fingers plunge down her throat, making her choke, her screams cut off continuously as tears streak from her eyes, smudging her mascara.

"Tears won't save you from me, my beautiful little Wren. I am your fate, your husband—everything you can't escape. You'll never fucking escape me. You're mine, always and only mine."

My cock starts to swell, the sensation of the barrel stroking against my dick through her walls, how warm and tight she feels, clenching every time I plunge deeper inside, making me build rapidly.

When she finally comes, I ramp up my pace, holding the gun in place as my cock smashes inside her twitching asshole with a violent pounding.

Then, finally, I cum.

The bliss sweeps over me, causing my entire body to shiver, my legs threatening to give way. I stop fucking her throat as I collapse on top of her. She gasps for air, both of us sweating like we've just stepped out the fucking shower. Her heart slams against my ear, a fading twitching beat around my shaft as her orgasm weakens. Her legs shake violently around me, her entire body trembling from the ruthless onslaught I just unleashed on her, but the satisfaction I just experienced was worth it.

I gradually withdraw my dick and the gun from her, and she gasps from the feeling. I slam the dripping gun down onto the desk and slowly lift my head. I take in the curve of her breast, the way the thin, red lace covers it, but not enough for me not to see her pink little nipple peeking through.

I sliver my hand up the front of her body, goosebumps rippling over the skin. I press them over the mound of her tit, sneaking my fingers easily beneath the fabric before gently pulling it down. As soon as her nipple is exposed, I lean down, consuming and licking it with force, unable to get enough of her.

As her breathing becomes erratic again, I move down her body, biting into the skin on her stomach. Once my head is between her thighs, I slide my hands up her inner thighs, before aggressively pinning them wide open to the desk, holding her exposed and vulnerable before diving in.

I lick every part of her swollen and wet pussy with slowness, my pierced tongue exploring every crease, every curve, soothing her. Tasting her, and of course, her hand finds my hair, her fingers latching onto the curly strains as they always do, encouraging me, her sexy moans always revealing that she loves to have her cunt eaten out by me.

After some deliberate agonizing slowness, she finally comes again, her warm juices hitting my taste buds, her thighs shaking violently beneath my palms, the scream ripping from her throat, raw and unstoppable.

Once I'm finished, I deliver one last gradual lick upward. Plant a couple of soft kisses to her pretty clit, then withdraw. I stand at the end of the desk between her spread legs, my chin raised, feeling completely satisfied, while I tuck my cock back inside my boxers, dragging my zipper up and fastening my belt. My dark eyes never leave her shattered body, her flushed face.

She looks like a picture-perfect masterpiece in the aftermath of chaos—my chaos.

I slip my arm beneath her, lifting her into me as I sit back in my chair, her limbs draping naturally, worn out from the intensity we've just shared. She feels fragile in my hands as her body rests lifeless in my lap, cheek pressed against my shoulder, her breath soft and shallow.

Gently, I start adjusting her clothes, smoothing out the fabric, combing through her hair with my fingers to move the sweaty strands away from her forehead. My movements, once harsh, now delicate, almost apologetic.

"I was going to tell you today," I finally murmur. Her lashes flutter, her tired eyes flicking upward to meet mine, filled with questions, maybe too drained to demand answers.

"Kill her," I command coldly.

Wren's head snaps up instantly, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What?"

I shrug casually, my eyes scanning her, the torn shirt barely covering her. "Fucking kill her. Get it done. End this."

The air between us grows dense, but she stays silent, watching me as I adjust her clothes with slow movements, as if trying to piece her back together what I just broke. I pull at the buttonless fabric, a pathetic attempt to restore some sense of normalcy, though we both know that's long fucking gone.

"You're going to spend some time with my mom before she leaves for a while," I order, my words hard, brooking no argument.

She rolls her eyes, letting out an irritated huff, glancing away. But then, like a flame reigniting, her gaze flashes back to mine.

"Goes away for a while?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

I nod before responding. "Europe. Or some shit."

Her jaw clenches, something flashing in her eyes as she arches a brow. "And why the hell should I spend time with her?"

My patience thins, the sharpness cutting through. "Because you two have issues, and it's pissing me the fuck off." My gaze narrows, daring her to argue. "Fix it or I'll make you two working together permanent. I don't care which."

Her eyes drop, her silence louder than any response. I pull her closer, sliding my hands firmly around her back until our bodies are pressed together, her warmth melding with mine. Our lips crash, tongues intertwining in a slow, intoxicating dance that sends shivers racing down my fucking spine.

She grips my neck with her hands before sliding them into my hair, and for a moment, everything fades—the conflict, the violence, the shit that's always looming. There's only us. Just this blazing fire that neither of us can extinguish.

When she breaks away, her forehead rests against mine, her eyes cast down, and I take a moment to admire how her lashes fan across her cheeks.

"I want you to pencil in some dates for me," I murmur, and her gaze lifts, curiosity in her eyes. "Next week, I'm taking you out for dinner. Just me and you."

Her head tilts up, her face brightening with a smile that lights up the room. "You're taking me out?"

I give her a subtle nod, my lips curling slightly before continuing. "But listen—I need to go away, Wren. Next weekend, I have to leave the city for a few nights."

Her smile fades just as I expected, her face clouding with disappointment. She's never been good at hiding how much she hates us being apart. I draw her closer, my arms wrapping protectively around her, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

"It's just for the fucking weekend, beautiful. Business, nothing more," I mutter. "I'll be back before you know it. And I'll make sure everything is in place while I'm gone."

Her hesitation lingers, that silent worry flickering in her eyes, but after a long pause, she nods, slowly accepting it.