7. Phoenix

7

PHOENIX

T yson gives the supplier the names over the phone.Those idiots have no idea the shitstorm they’ve unleashed by crossing us. A twisted part of me wants to make them suffer.

“Let me handle this one,” I say once he ends the call.

He raises an eyebrow. Normally, I keep my darker impulses concealed behind a calm facade.

But this time, I want those fools to know their lives now belong to me—a realization that will shake them to the core.

“You want to pay them a personal visit?” Tyson asks, studying me. He knows better than to underestimate the depths of my depravity.

“Oh, I have something far more delicious in mind,” I state, leaning back in my gaming chair. “Why settle for a quick demise when we can drag it out and make the cowards beg for mercy before the sweet release of death. ”

His eyes widen, taken aback by how much I enjoy this. But a slow, wicked grin soon mirrors my own as he nods.

“Alright, you twisted fuck,” he chuckles. “Show me what delightfully sick plans you’ve got brewing in that deranged mind of yours.”

I step closer to Ty. “I plan to make them wish they’d never messed with us. First, we find out everything there is to know about them. Their deepest fears, their weaknesses—then we use that information to our advantage.”

“A tailored torment, huh? Getting creative, aren’t we?”

“Oh yes,” I murmur. “It’ll be a masterpiece of psychological torture.”

He grins. “Go on. You’ve piqued my interest.”

“I suggest we isolate them first and make them question their sanity. We plant hidden cameras in every corner of their homes, capturing their most private moments. It’s incredible what people do when they think no one’s watching.”

Tyson chuckles. “And then we use it against them to expose their secrets and strip away their privacy layer by layer.”

“Exactly,” I purr. “We leave them vulnerable and exposed. Then, when they’re at their most fragile, we strike.”

A mischievous grin splits his face in two. “So we fuck with their heads, and then we fuck with their lives. Count me in.”

“Leave it to me,” I say, excitement pumping through my veins. “I’ll fuck with their heads so bad they won’t know up from down. We can consider killing them once they’ve been through the wringer. Make them pay for messing with us.”

Tyson chuckles. “Just be sure to fill me in on the details. I want to enjoy the show, too.” He pauses, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “And if you need an extra set of hands or anything else for your little project, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Will do,” I respond, already deep in the throes of planning my revenge.

As Ty leaves, my mind wanders back to Tilly. Ever since I laid eyes on her, something inside me snapped. It’s like a switch flipped, and my once-ordered world has turned chaotic. I can’t focus or think straight, and my usual calm demeanor is gone.

My obsession with her has only intensified since I claimed her at Pulse, tasting her sweet fucking cunt. The memory of her soft moans and the feel of her body surrendering to mine has me aching to possess her entirely.

I pace the trailer, raking a hand through my hair. I need something to distract me from this maddening desire. This fixation threatens my usually controlled nature, and I can’t afford to be off my game, not when there’s work to be done—work that requires my full attention and sharp mind.

I need an outlet, something to channel this restless energy into. Normally, the prospect of hacking into someone’s life excites me. It gives me power and control, peering into people’s secrets and manipulating them like puppets, but even that holds no appeal right now.

All I can focus on is this goddamn yearning for Tilly. It’s like a fucking drug that’s consuming me. My hunger for her is becoming unquenchable, and I fear my control is slipping by the fucking minute.

I open Tilly’s file and sigh when I see all the images of her I’ve compiled there. It’s extensive, but I can’t resist adding more daily as I scour social media. It helps ease the relentless craving temporarily.

As I scroll through the photos, my heart thrums with a dangerous mix of lust and possession. “You’re mine, Tilly Jane Lawson,” I whisper. “Whether you know it yet or not.”

Forcing my attention back to the task, I crack my knuckles and begin the hack. In mere seconds, I’ve infiltrated the devices of the pricks who crossed us.

Their lives are now an open book, laid bare before me.

With deft keystrokes, I hijack every camera and recording device in their homes—laptops, phones, tablets, even those ridiculous smart home gadgets. One by one, the feeds flicker to life on my screens, granting me a glimpse into their most intimate moments.

A twisted sense of power surges through me as I witness their mundane existences, oblivious to the violation of their privacy.

I activate the microphones on their cell phones, allowing me to eavesdrop on their conversations no matter where they go. Every whispered secret, every hushed confession—all of it is mine to exploit.

As the final camera feed comes online, I lean back in my chair, savoring the win. They are puppets now, their strings firmly in my grasp.

Despite the adrenaline rush, my thoughts are immediately pulled back to Tilly. Her radiant smile and infectious laughter haunt me. Switching back to her file, I scroll through her images on my computer, devouring every captured moment of her life hungrily like a starving man.

I’ve got a week left in this town before we move on.

The idea of losing her is unbearable. I need her, crave her, in a way that borders on pure fucking insanity. An obsession that threatens to unravel the very fabric of my being.

As I scroll through the images, a plan begins to take shape—a deliciously twisted scheme to ensure that Tilly becomes truly, irrevocably mine. A grin tugs at my lips, and my mind already spins with the intricate details.

One way or another, I will claim her. She will belong to me, mind, body, and soul, even if I have to shatter her world to make it so. Tilly Jane Lawson will be the ultimate prize in my twisted game of control.

And those who dare to stand in my way will soon learn a lesson etched in blood—a fate worse than death itself.