38. Epilogue

38

EPILOGUE

CLARA

Ten months later…

I adjust my dress in the dim lighting of the Toronto nightclub, catching Silas's eye across the room. Our target sits at the bar, nursing his third drink. He's outwardly respectable like the others, but he preys on the weak and vulnerable. My skin prickles as I notice him watching me.

"Another vodka tonic," I tell the bartender, sliding closer to our mark. His eyes travel over me, just as we planned.

"Let me get that for you," he says, his smile practiced and smooth. I've studied his pattern and know how he chooses his victims and gains their trust. Tonight, he thinks he's found another.

I feel Silas's presence even though I can't see him anymore. He's moved into position, waiting. The familiar thrill runs through me, knowing we're working together in this dance.

"I'm Marcus," our target says, extending his hand. I take it, playing my role perfectly.

"Claire," I lie, giving him a shy smile that Silas and I know will hook him. Sure enough, Marcus shifts closer.

The night unfolds exactly as we orchestrated. Marcus suggests getting some air, and I pretend to be just tipsy enough to agree. As we walk toward the back alley, I sense Silas shadowing us, silent and lethal.

This is our life now, bringing justice where the law has failed. The evidence file on Marcus sits in my bag back home, filled with cases that were dismissed or never made it to court. But tonight, he'll face his final judgment.

I stumble slightly, letting Marcus catch my elbow. His grip is too tight and possessive. Behind us, I know Silas is moving closer, as graceful and deadly as a jungle cat. The rush hits me hard and fast—that intoxicating surge of adrenaline that blurs the line between fear and desire.

Marcus's fingers dig into my arm as he drags me deeper into the alley. My heart pounds, but not from fear. I know what's coming.

"Bend over, sweetheart," he growls, shoving me against the brick wall. His breath reeks of alcohol and entitlement.

I struggle against his grip, playing my part. "No, please?—"

A shadow moves behind Marcus. Through the dim light, I catch the gleam of wire pulled taut. The Ghost mask appears, and Silas's eyes lock with mine through the eyeholes. In one fluid motion, he loops the garrote around Marcus's throat.

Marcus releases me, his hands flying to his neck. His legs kick out as Silas lifts him off the ground with raw strength. The wire bites deeper. Marcus's fingers scrabble uselessly against it, his face turning purple.

I straighten my dress and step closer, watching Marcus's wild eyes. "You thought I was helpless, didn't you? Like all the others?" My voice stays steady and cold. "But tonight, you're the prey. We've seen your file—all those cases dismissed, all those women you hurt."

Marcus thrashes harder, but Silas’s grip never wavers. Blood trickles where the wire cuts into flesh.

"It's time to rid this earth of scum like you," I say, meeting his panicked gaze.

"Do it, Silas." The words feel torn from my throat as I watch Marcus struggle against the wire Silas holds taut around his neck. Silas and I understand each other. We're both attracted to the darkness and mystery of it all. Silas embodies the shadowed figure in my fantasies. Now, here we are, bringing a predator's reign to an end.

Silas pulls hard on the wire. I watch, mesmerized, as the thin metal cuts through Marcus's skin, slicing deep into his throat. Blood spurts in rhythmic pulses, staining his shirt and my face. His legs buck and twist, seeking purchase, but Silas maintains his merciless hold.

Marcus chokes and gurgles, a gruesome, wet sound that echoes off the alley walls. The wire bites deeper as his body bucks against it, driven by instinct. His eyes bulge, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

Panic strikes me, not for Marcus but for us. "Someone might hear," I whisper. "Finish it, Silas."

His blue eyes lock with mine as if asking for permission. I nod almost imperceptibly.

With a swift, vicious motion, Silas sinks a blade into Marcus's chest. Once, twice, three times. A ritualistic rhythm. Blood wells up around the wounds, soaking into his shirt.

The light flickers in Marcus's eyes as his legs cease to kick. His body goes limp, supported only by the wire around his neck.

Silas gently lowers the body to the ground, his eyes never leaving mine. He stands, wiping his blade on a cloth before returning it to his pocket.

The adrenaline surges through my body as I watch Marcus's lifeless form crumple to the ground. Silas releases the wire, letting the body fall in a heap, his neck now a mangled mess.

We've done this before—this deadly dance in the shadows. My breath quickens as I step closer, my eyes never leaving Silas’s. I feel a connection between us, like an electric current. I reach out and touch his bare arm, his muscles taut beneath his sleeve.

He stares at me, his eyes flicking down to my lips before he lifts his mask and leans in. My heart hammers in my chest as our mouths meet, a rush of blood clouding my senses. The kiss is hungry, primal. I taste the victim's blood on his lips, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

Our tongues dance, his breath ragged with the thrill of the kill. I moan softly, my fingers tightening on his arms. Silas deepens the kiss, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me against him. I can feel his arousal, his need mirroring my own.

The kiss is savage, wild. It awakens something primal within me—a desire I've kept chained and hidden. The brush of the Ghost mask against my skin makes me shudder as Silas pulls me closer, his hands rough and demanding.

He pins me against the wall, his body pressing into mine with urgent need. The bricks bite into my back, but I want more. I crave the sensation of our flesh against the unforgiving stone.

Silas breaks the kiss, his eyes dark and hooded. "This is what you want," he growls, his breath hot against my neck. "Say it."

"Yes." My voice is hoarse and raw, thick with desire. It's what I need."

His hands are everywhere, tearing at my dress, baring my skin to the cold night air. I shiver, my nipples hardening. Silas's mouth claims one tight peak, his tongue flicking and teasing until I arch against him, gasping.

He pulls away, stepping back to admire his handiwork. I stand before him, my dress in ruins, my breasts heaving with each breath. Silas's eyes burn with the same relentless hunger that consumes me.

He reaches for the mask, pulling it back into place. His eyes, visible through the eyeholes, hold mine captive.

His eyes burn into mine as he lifts me, pressing me against the cold brick wall. The wire that strangled our victim is still looped around Silas's hand, the ends dripping with blood, as he drops it to the ground. I'm keenly aware of our prey's body at our feet as Silas pulls out his thick cock and guides it between my thighs. I reach down, rubbing the head of his cock along my slick folds before he thrusts into me.

"You want it hard, don't you?" His voice is low and rough, his breath hot against my neck. "You want to feel my power."

I nod, my breath catching as he fills me in one deep stroke. "Yes."

"It turns you on," he grunts, his eyes never leaving mine. "Watching me take a life."

"It does," I admit, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "It turns me on so much."

His lips claim mine in a savage kiss. Our tongues tangle as he begins to move, thrusting into me with relentless force. The wall bites into my back with each powerful stroke, intensifying the pleasure. Two sensations refuse to leave me—the sharp, iron smell of fresh blood and the whisper of that Ghost mask against my skin.

"Your pussy gets so wet when you watch me kill," he growls, his fingers digging into my hips. "Tell me how much you love it."

I'm breathless, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me. "I love it," I whisper, my voice laced with desire. "It makes me so wet. So aroused."

Silas groans, his grip on my hips tightening as he pistons in and out of me. "Say it again."

"I love watching you kill," I pant, my back scraping against the rough bricks. "It excites me."

He claims my mouth in another kiss, our teeth clashing, our tongues dueling. I feel wild, out of control, consumed by the dark desires we share. This forbidden dance of death and lust pushes us both to the edge.

"Come for me," he demands, his eyes boring into mine. "Let me feel it."

The rhythm of his thrusts becomes more urgent, each impact sending shocks of pleasure through my body. I feel the climax building, a coiling tension deep within me. I bite my lip, holding back the scream building in my throat.

"Say my name," he growls, his eyes fierce and commanding.

"Silas," I moan, my back arching as the pleasure coils tighter. "Oh, God."

"Your faith in me is beautiful to witness." His thrusts become more frenzied, driven by the same need consuming me. "Now let me show you what your god can do."His lips find my neck, his teeth scraping gently over my skin, marking me.

Silas's mouth is on mine again, his kiss claiming me, branding me. He holds me easily, his powerful body moving with an irresistible force.

The bricks’ rough edges push into my back with each thrust, sending shocks of pleasure through me. Our kisses are savage, our teeth clicking together, tongues dueling for dominance. My fingers thread through his hair, holding him to me.

His mouth trails down my neck, nipping and sucking, marking me as his. My head falls back, exposing my throat. Silas knows I love it when he kisses and bites there, leaving his mark for all to see. It's as if he's branding me, claiming what's his.

His teeth scrape my skin, sending shivers through me. "Silas," I breathe, my voice catching in my throat. His name is a plea, a prayer, and a curse all at once.

He lifts his head, his eyes burning into mine. "Tell me how much you want it." His voice is rough, his breath hot against my lips.

My cheeks flush with desire, but I don't look away. "I want it more than anything." My confession hangs in the air between us.

A dark smile curves his lips. "Take it then."

I don't hesitate. I grasp his face, pulling him toward me and claiming his mouth with mine. This kiss is different—urgent and demanding. I taste my own need on his lips, and it fuels my desire even more.

Silas thrusts into me, his hips slapping against mine. The sound echoes off the alley walls, a percussion to the rhythm of our passion. His hands squeeze my ass, lifting me higher, changing the angle of his thrusts so he hits all the right spots.

His mouth finds my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "You're so fucking tight," he growls. "You feel so good, my goddess."

His words send a thrill through me, and I moan, my fingers tightening in his hair. "You feel good, too," I pant. "Hard and thick inside me."

With each thrust, I feel myself spiraling closer to the edge. Silas senses it, too. His mouth finds my neck again, his lips and teeth working magic, marking me as his territory.

"Show me what salvation looks like," he demands, his voice hoarse. "Shatter for your god."

I can't hold back any longer. "Silas!" I scream his name as my climax crashes over me, my body shaking, my walls clenching around him.

He groans, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, Clara." His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You make me lose control."

I feel his release, the warm flood of his seed inside me. Silas holds me against the wall, his body shuddering as he finds his own release.

We stand there, catching our breath, our hearts pounding in sync. Slowly, he lowers me to the ground, but his arms stay around me, holding me close.

I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his scent—a heady mix of musk and masculine warmth. My hands rest on his chest, feeling his breath's steady rise and fall.

"We should go," he says finally, his voice soft.

I nod, my cheek brushing his chest. "Yeah."

Silas pulls away slightly, his hands cupping my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Are you okay?"

I know what he's asking. This life we've chosen isn't easy. But the alternative is worse. We're just meting out the justice that evaded so many.

"I'm okay," I assure him, reaching up to cover his hands with mine. "Better than okay." I look into his eyes, seeing the same darkness that consumes me reflected back.

He leans in, kissing me softly. For once, his kiss isn't demanding or brutal—it's achingly gentle, speaking of emotions neither of us dares name.

We straighten our clothes and check our surroundings before stepping out of the alley, arm in arm, just another couple out for a night on the town. But we both know the truth. The night is young, and another predator is waiting to be judged.