chapter thirteen

johnny

Soul Eayer - Savage Ga$p

T he second Lux and I step into the tent, everything shifts. The noise—the music, the laughter, even the movement of bodies—becomes background static. Our focus locks on her. Indie. She stands there at the bar, surrounded by three poor bastards who have no fucking idea they're about to meet death.

My death. Lux's death. Theirs.

Her lips curl into a playful smirk, but the glint in her eyes is goddamn dangerous. She's toying with them. Their hands linger on her like they have any right to touch her. To even breathe the same air as her. Pathetic pieces of shit.

I glance at Lux, and his eyes are darker than I've ever seen. His rage pulses in the space between us, and it's even more violent than mine. Indie is his. Everyone fucking knows it. Except these fools apparently.

And fuck, as we storm through the sea of people, the fury radiating from him is fucking euphoric. It's the silent promise of their doom and it has my blood pumping.

We don't need words. We move, slicing through the crowd, pushing through the throng of onlookers who sense something's about to break loose. There's a tension in the air—everyone around us knows it, even if they can't see it yet.

The predators are here, and those stupid bastards are the prey.

"Indie," Lux growls again, his voice like a crack of thunder in the suddenly too-quiet tent.

The leader's hand freezes before it slides off her waist. Good. His eyes widen behind his mask, darting between Lux and I, as his attention turns to us. It's clear he knows something is wrong—very fucking wrong. But he has no idea just how fucked he and his little friends are.

Before he can blink, I grab the closest one, yanking him by the collar and slamming his face into the edge of the wooden bar. The crunch of bone breaking is fucking music to my ears. His unconscious body crumples to the floor, twitching as blood pours from his shattered nose.

One down.

Lux doesn't even hesitate. Towering over the guy by at least two feet, he moves with that calm, methodical precision that makes the fucking air feel electric. His fingers clamp down on the man's wrist, twisting it with a sickening crack that echoes through the tent. The guy lets out a scream—pathetic, high-pitched, like a wounded animal. Lux pulls a small blade from his pocket, the metal gleaming under the dim lights as he rips the guys mask off his head, tossing it to the ground behind him. Without a word, he drags the knife across the man's face, slow and deliberate, peeling the skin away in one grotesque, fluid motion.

The guy's screams become something unholy, piercing the air around the big top as blood pours down his neck. The crowd watches, wide-eyed behind their masks, captivated by the brutality of our leader, but no one steps in. They know better. Lux doesn't rush, doesn't even blink as he works, wearing the poor fucks agony like a badge of honor. When the skin finally comes free, slick and dripping, Lux stretches it over his own face, smoothing it down like it belongs there.

He turns to the crowd, now wearing that twisted, bloody mask with his arms spread wide. The sight of him, his eyes gleaming through another man's face, is both horrifying and fucking magnetic. Lux stands there, a living goddamn nightmare, and I can't help but grin.

Fuck yeah. This is what we do.

And then there's the leader—the one who thought he could put his hands on Indie. The one who thought he had power here and that he and his little friends could touch what doesn't belong to them without repercussions.

Not here. Not in this fucking tent, and fucking never her.

Lux reaches him first, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the bar.

"You dare to touch what doesn't belong to you?" Lux's voice is low, shaking with raw fury. "What everyone here knows belongs to me."

The leader gasps, clawing at Lux's hand, trying to pry himself free, but Lux tightens his grip, leaning in close, his lips curled into a snarl. "She's just some bitch. I didn't know she was special. I mean isn't that the point of this event. This Dark fucking Harvest ? I thought everyone was fair game?"

Lux growls, his anger only growing with the idiots smart ass remarks about the purpose behind our event. The man's eyes widen, panic setting in as Lux lifts him off the ground, his feet kicking uselessly beneath him.

I step closer, crouching in front of him, my blood stained fingers brushing his jaw as his breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. I tilt his head, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Look at her," I whisper, my voice dripping with malice. " Look at what you'll never have."

Indie moves toward him, her eyes locked on mine as she steps over the broken bodies of the other men. There's something hungry in her gaze—something dark and possessive that sends a jolt of excitement through me.

Lux drops the man to the ground, and Indie wastes no time. She straddles him, her thighs pinning him in place as she lowers herself onto his face. She frantically unclips her bodysuit, her pussy pressing down on his blood stained mouth. He gurgles, crimson bubbles leaking from his lips as he tries—and fails—to breathe.

But Indie doesn't care. She grinds against him, slow and deliberate, the man's panicked eyes darting from me to Lux, then back to her as his life seeps away beneath her. He's suffocating on her, his own blood filling his lungs as he struggles to catch even the faintest breath.

And Indie? Our Dark Queen—she's loving every fucking second of it.

"Good girl," Lux whispers, running his hand through her hair as her body moves, her hips undulating against the leader's face. "Use him, Indie. Show him what he's missing out on as his pathetic life slowly fades away."

She glances up at Lux, her eyes flicking to me, then back to him. She doesn't really need to ask—she's always been a girl who knows what she wants, and yet, she respects Lux enough that there's a brief silent question as her holds his stare.

Lux meets her gaze, his eyes smoldering behind the dead man's skin, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. He gives her a nod—permission fucking granted. She can have whatever the hell she wants. Typical. Lux has never been a soft man, but for Indie, he'll do just about anything.

And tonight, I'm fucking thankful for it.

Without hesitation, she reaches for my belt, her fingers deftly unfastening it as she wraps her tiny hand firmly around my cock and pulls it toward her. Her mouth is hot, and she's greedy—so fucking greedy for me as she takes me in, her tongue swirling over the precum beading around the tip. Her lips wrapped tight around me as she continues to ride the piece of shit's face. I watch, filled with envy for the piece of shit. What a way to go out.

Indie moans, the sound vibrating through her as she sucks my cock, taking it to the back of her throat, and fuck, it's good. Her lips are soft and wet, gliding over my shaft as she savors every inch, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight as she looks up at me. But it's not just me she wants.

Her hand moves to Lux, pulling him closer as she opens her mouth wide to take him in too, alternating between us with a seamless rhythm like the fucking goddess she is. Her hips continue their relentless grind against the dying man beneath her, the slickness of her movements mixing with his blood as she rides him harder. Using him to find the friction her body needs.

It's a fucking beautiful sight.

His struggles are growing weaker, gurgled sounds escaping his throat, becoming quieter as his body trembles beneath her, suffocating on her tight cunt as he drowns in his own blood. Each gurgle is a melody of fucking despair, a haunting reminder of the power she holds over him and fuck it only makes me harder. Around us, the crowd is reveling in the violence, feeding off the bloodlust that fills the air like the scent of copper and sweat.

Indie's moan is muffled, her mouth full of me, then Lux, and it's the most intoxicating sound I've ever heard. She's goddamn perfect like this—on her knees, her body slick with blood, taking us both while the man beneath her dies, knowing he'll never, ever have what we do.

"Fuck, Indie," Lux growls, his hand tangling in her hair as he thrusts into her mouth, his eyes locked on mine. "Look at her, Johnny. Look how good she is. How good her pretty little mouth takes us." His voice is a low growl, thick with need, and the sight of her worshipping us like this sends a rush of heat through me.

I groan, my fingers tightening in her thick hair as she switches to me, taking me deep into her mouth. Her moans grow more frantic as her pleasure builds right alongside ours. "You love this, don't you? You love watching us tear them apart, for you." Her eyes meet mine, dark and filled with something primal, and the thrill of it sends my heart racing.

Her response is another moan, her body trembling as she grinds harder against the leader's face, the flesh beneath her slowly going cold. He's barely moving now, his chest rising and falling in shallow, desperate gasps. Blood bubbles from his nose, mingling with the slickness of her as she uses him like the worthless thing he is, a mere object for her pleasure.

"He's lucky to leave this earth with the taste of you on his tongue," Lux breathes, his voice rough with need. "To know how sweet your juices are as he takes his final fucking breath. Thats how I plan to leave this world too, buried deep between those perfect goddamn thighs of yours." His words are intoxicating, and I can feel the energy in the air shift, a current of dark desire flowing through us.

Her eyes flash with something feral, something wild, and her hand tightens around both of us, stroking us with the same rhythm she moves against the man beneath her. My breath catches, tension coiling tight inside me as her tongue flicks against me, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my spine. The intensity of it builds, sending me spiraling into a blissful haze.

"Fuck," I growl, my body shaking as I teeter on the edge. "You suck me so fucking so good, Indie. So fucking good."

The leader's body goes still beneath her, his struggles fading as his life finally leaves him. But Indie doesn't stop. She grinds down harder, using his corpse for her own pleasure, a primal dance of dominance as she continues to work both of us with her mouth and hands, never losing her rhythm.

Around us, the crowd is in a frenzy, captivated by the spectacle. I catch sight of a man in the throng, his eyes dark with lust as he watches Indie and us. He's sitting on the ground, his breath quickening as he leans over one of the other guys lifeless body, a twisted grin spreading across his face. He grabs the corpse, using its mouth to pleasure himself as he shoves his cock down it's throat. Thrusting and pounding into it mercilessly as he mirrors Indie's actions. Each aggressive thrust is a mockery of the life that once inhabited the body, a grotesque display of domination. He revels in the depravity of it, his fingers digging into the lifeless flesh, holding the corpse just where he wants it as his pleasure rises with each brutal movement.

His soul is lost in the chaos of the night. The depravity that we have brought them and fuck if it's not goddamn wonderful.

The tension in the air is electric, a charged atmosphere of violence and ecstasy. Indie's pleasure builds, and as I look down as her, her eyes holding mine while my cock hits the back of her throat, I can't hold back any longer. With a low, guttural moan, I come, filling her mouth with my warm cum.

"Ah, fuck yeah," My fingers tighten in her hair as I spill into her, my body trembling with the force of it. Lux isn't far behind, his own growl of pleasure filling the air as Indie pulls his cocks tip to her lips. She rubs them both across her swollen lips, licking and lapping at their swollen heads.

The tension coiling within Indie reaches its breaking point, her body trembling as she grinds down harder against the lifeless form beneath her. A low, desperate moan escapes her lips, echoing in the chaotic air, as pleasure surges through her like wildfire. She's lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy, the blood, and violence fueling her desire.

"Fuck," she gasps, her eyes rolling back as she feels the release building, overwhelming her senses. Her fingers grip tightly around us, pumping us in a frantic rhythm that matches the wild pounding of her heart. With one final thrust against the corpse, she shudders violently, and she cries out—a primal scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

It's a goddamn beautiful sight.

The crowd erupts in a chaotic chorus of cheers and moans, feeding off the raw energy of the moment. Indie, covered in blood and the remnants of our desires, grins up at us, her eyes alight with unrestrained joy.

This is what we've created—a beautiful, unhinged perfection, and in this moment, we are untouchable. She looks between us, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she sits back on the leader's now lifeless body, her thighs still straddling his face, his blood-soaked mouth frozen in a twisted grimace.

Lux reaches for her, pulling up from the body and holding her close, his voice a low rumble in her ear. " Perfect . You are so fucking perfect, Indie."

And as I stand there, watching them, covered in blood, the bodies of the men who dared touch her lying broken and used at our feet, I know one thing for sure—no one will ever touch her again.

No one will even dare .