Chapter 60

Chapter 58

Sophia

THE SOFT light from the lamp in my room casts a warm glow around us. "I'll call you," Luka said, his voice rough but his eyes soft.

I pull him back, my heart screaming that it's too risky; he could get killed. I couldn't bear that pain. The pain of losing a loved one.

Not again.

"I'll be okay, krasotka," he says, as if reading my mind. He kisses me, and I can feel the urgency and the passion. "I'll bring Nilo and Wren back. Safe. Trust me."

I cling to him, tears threatening to spill. "Promise me, Luka. Promise me you'll come back."

He smiles that bad boy smile I love so much and whispers in my ear, "I promise, krasotka."

I don't want to let go. I can't. But I do, and he leaves. The door closes behind him, and I'm left alone, his promise echoing in my head.

Sleep is impossible. I pace around my room, restless, anxious. I check on Yulia. She's asleep, peaceful, unaware of the danger. Max wags his tail, happy to see me.

"Everything will be okay, Max," I say, but I'm not sure I believe it.

Heading back to my room, I check my phone. Nothing from Luka. No messages, no calls.

It's only twenty minutes. But it feels like forever since he walked out.

I kneel down, hands clasped.

"God, I don't know if you're listening, but please hear me now," I choke out. "Keep Luka safe, the father of my unborn child. Protect Nilo, my brother, and Wren, my best friend. I don't know how to live without them. Please, bring them home to me, safe and sound. I trust you, but I'm so scared. Amen."

Sinking onto the floor, I rest my head on my arms.

Suddenly, a loud sound, like a gunshot, rings out. Screams follow. My heart leaps into my throat. Panic sets in. I rush to the door and yank it open. The world outside my room has turned into a nightmare.

The entire floor is on fire. Flames are everywhere. A man's scream reaches my ears, filled with pain. He's walking toward me, on fire. It's Luka. My world stops.

"Luka!" I scream, unable to believe what I'm seeing. "No, no, NO!" I want to run to him, to save him, but my legs refuse to move.

"Ms. Williams!" I hear a voice calling my name, and my eyes peel open to see a face looming close. I almost punch the person in front of me. "Svet…Svetlana?" I stammer, disoriented and confused.

A dream! Thank God it was a dream!

That nightmare's got my heart racing like crazy. Dammit.

"Shhh," Svetlana whispers, her voice as stern as I remember. "You need to get to the safehouse. Immediately."

"Safe-Safehouse?" I echo, confusion evident in my voice. "What's happening?"

"You need to leave. Now," she urges. "Go with Grisha."

Oh God, please, please. Tell me Luka is okay.

The night is a blur. I find myself ushered into a car. The clock on the dashboard reads two a.m. Damn! Five hours have passed.

Grisha, in his usual silent manner, navigates through the city. He takes turn after turn, and with each one, the roads become less familiar, more discreet. Eventually, we pull up to a nondescript building, looking as ordinary as any dry cleaning and laundry service.

Grisha steps out and assists me, guiding me toward what seems like an electrical box on the wall. But when he opens it, it's a keypad. After punching in a code, a hidden door to the side creaks open. My pulse quickens.

I freeze at the door.

No, I can't go with him.

My legs won't move. Please, God…

What-what if Luka… Is he…dead?

"Ms. Williams," Grisha's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "We need to keep moving. Mr. Ivankov will explain."

The name seizes my heart. "Luka," I whisper, my voice breaking, "is he…?"

Grisha's face remains impassive. "I can't tell you more. But now, you must follow me."

I'm led through the safehouse, a maze of hidden passages, reinforced rooms, and surveillance monitors. Grisha finally stops outside a room. "Mr. Ivankov is waiting."

The door creaks open, and I step inside, my eyes widening at the sight before me.

I glance at Luka, relief washing over me as I see he's okay. Then I see two familiar faces – Nilo lying on a bed, pale and drawn, while Wren's sitting beside him, her dark hair wild and eyes glittering with relief when she sees me at the door.

"Soph?"

"Nilo!" I rush over, my heart pounding. Tears blur my vision as I grab his hands, needing to feel that he's real. "Wren! Are you both alright?" I look at her.

"Soph!" Nilo's voice trembles, his eyes filled with relief and regret. "I-I am so sorry." His voice breaking. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

My heart aches for him, and without thinking, I pull him into a tight hug. A long, desperate hug that says all the things I can't put into words. Wren, watching us, suddenly moves forward to join in, her arms encircling us both.

"It's okay, Nilo," I reassure him, brushing his hair from his forehead. "You're safe now. We'll get through this," I whisper into Nilo's ear, tears streaming down my face. "We'll fight this together."

I pull back, hastily wiping my tears with the back of my hand, and turn toward Wren., hugging her intensely. My best friend. "Wren, I'm so, so sorry for getting you into this mess." I'm crying and laughing at the same time.

"It's not your fault, Soph," Wren insists, her voice steady even as she returns my embrace. "It's that motherfucker Aleks."

Pulling back, I suddenly realize that Wren is only wrapped up in a thin white blanket. No clothes, nothing else. I blink, confusion written all over my face. "What on earth…? What the hell happened to your clothes?"

She shrugs, a wicked gleam in her eye, all casual nonchalance. "Lost ‘em in a bet. But don't worry, this blanket's doing the job."

"Wha-what bet?"

"I'm just kidding, Soph. But like I said, everything's under control."

I can't help but feel the anger building. "Someone find Wren some damn clothes!" I snap, my eyes flitting around the room.

Wren laughs that wild, uncontrolled laugh of hers. "Oh, come on, Soph, this is nothing new." I want to strangle her and hug her at the same time.

Then, with a swift motion, Dimitri pulls off his shirt, muscles and scars bared. He throws it to Wren.

"Thanks," Wren says, snatching the shirt out of the air with a quick movement. She pulls it on. Dimitri's massive shirt transforms on her – big enough to be a dress, hanging loosely and draping over her curvaceous figure.

"Well, don't I look ravishing?" Wren quips, giving a playful twirl. "I should wear men's clothing more often."

With a wink, she gives Dimitri her signature seductive smile, the one that's been known to bring most men to their knees. Caught off guard, Dimitri quickly turns his head away.

I never thought I'd see Dimitri reacting this way to anyone.

"Enough playing around," Erik drawls, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, a teasing glint in his eye. He levels his gaze at Wren. "Your turn, Missy. Time to spill what you know."

Chapter 59

Luka

A PING.

I glance at the phone. "Sophia's back home. Safe." Damn, it feels good to exhale. But the tension doesn't stay gone for long.

Erik leans forward, adjusting the collar of his impeccable shirt. Guy always looks like he stepped straight out of a damned magazine shoot. "Remember that little nugget Wren spilled earlier? About Aleks planning some sort of ‘housewarming' gift on our turf?"

Gritting my teeth, I nod. "Bastard's planning to hit us at home."

"I know when it's gonna happen." He glances at me.

"Sophia got word from this Anya." I forcefully set my phone on the table. "She gave a hint about something brewing for Yulia's birthday."

"Bullseye." Without a word, Erik takes a dart from the side table. With controlled anger, he hurls it straight into a dartboard across the room, hitting dead center.

I squeeze my brow together. "This Anya bitch, we knew about her?"

Dimitri's face twists in disgust. "Yup, that bloody janitor finally confessed that he was on Aleks's payroll and got Anya onto our turf."

"How much did he get paid?" I am curious.

"Eh…fifty grand." Eric shrugs.

"Is that all it takes to betray us?" Dimitri's voice is cold, deadly.

"Well, some people kill for less," Erik reminds him.

"Of course, and the reward for his betrayal? Bleeding to death," Dimitri says, his voice emotionless. "Grisha made certain of that.

Erik smirks, flipping through his laptop, adding more surprises, "Oh, speaking of that, you know they tried to sell her into the US as a whore? The girl didn't even make it to the brothel," he continues, "And, her real name is Katerina Vasiliev. Twenty-five years old."

Dimitri raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Katerina Vasiliev? You mean Aleks's lover?"

Erik's chuckle cuts through the air, dark and ugly. "Love's a dangerous game, especially when you're playing it with the likes of Aleks."

Dimitri leans forward, examining the file Erik has spread out. "She's deep in this. Willing to die for him?"

"That's what it seems," Erik replies, tapping on a particular page in the file.

"It's madness," Dimitri says, disgust evident in his tone. "All this risk, and not even a dime in return?"

I shake my head. "Some people chase after things more intoxicating than money. She's in it for the love, or whatever twisted version of it she thinks she's getting."

I stare hard at the photos, anger bubbling up again. "Love or not, she's chosen her side."

Dimitri taps the map laid out before us. "Speaking of sides, this is where we'll find them."

I glance down, my gaze zeroing in on the marked area. "So, that's where he's been hiding out?" I trace the map with my finger, looking up at Dimitri.

Dimitri nods. "After months of searching, we hit the jackpot just a few hours ago. They are on the east side. Clever spot, tucked away among those old, rotting warehouses. Who'd think?"

Erik, leaning against the wall, chimes in, "Yeah, from the look of it, it's been abandoned for a while. Makes a perfect hideout. Especially with its location – direct access to main routes and still manages to stay off the radar."

Dimitri's face darkens, his voice edged with frustration. "Exactly. All those rundown buildings around? They've been using them as a shield."

I shake my head, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "No wonder we couldn't find them. Right under our noses. Fuck, if we knew this earlier, we wouldn't have let that bastard even breathe near our turf," I growl, thinking about Yulia.

"Better late than never, huh?" Erik twirls a sleek, black pistol between his fingers, eyes gleaming. "So, ready for more surprises?" he asks, his smirk widening.

Dimitri and I exchange glances.

Before either of us can reply, Erik shoots a sly smirk our way and calls out, "Hey, Ollie!"

The door creaks open, and a lanky, geeky-looking dude with thick glasses shuffles in. It's evident he's uncomfortable, out of his element in this grim setting.

I raise an eyebrow. "Who the hell is this?"

Erik chuckles. "Meet Ollie. Our very own tech whiz."

Ollie nods shyly, gripping his laptop like a shield. "Hi."

Dimitri smirks, clearly amused. "Didn't know you had a nerd in your pocket, Erik."

Ignoring Dimitri, Erik nudges Ollie forward. "Show them."

With a few rapid clicks, Ollie brings up a live feed on his laptop. The footage shows the interior of what looks like a warehouse. I can hear muffled voices, the echoey sound of plans being made.

Erik leans in close, whispering, "Got a few bugs placed inside. Money makes people sing, my friends."

Ollie cranks up the volume, and the noises from the warehouse become crisper. The video is slightly grainy but clear enough to provide an idea of what's going on. I examine the inside of the rundown warehouse. The ceiling is high, and most of the place is dim, with a few bulbs lighting up specific areas.

The first thing that catches my attention is the descent – a staircase that leads to a subterranean level. The footage shifts as one of the bugs seems to be planted lower. Now, the view reveals Aleks's real arsenal. Walls mounted with weapons, machine guns, pistols, and rifles, all organized with military precision. It's like stumbling upon a lion's den, only instead of teeth and claws, there's cold steel. There's a corner with monitors showcasing live feeds from various locations. A makeshift command center.

Then, Aleks's voice cuts through the quiet hum of the warehouse, the sneer in his tone unmistakable. "We kill them all," he growls.

"Yes, Pakhan!" a chorus of voices respond, enthusiasm oozing from them. The men gathered around Aleks murmur in agreement.

A tall, brutish thug with a scar tracing down his cheek speaks up, "Everything's in place, Pakhan. The Ivankovs won't know what hit them."

Aleks sneers, looking around his assembled group. "You know the best time to strike, don't you?"

One of the men chuckles, rubbing his hands together. "During their precious party, Pakhan?"

Aleks's lips stretch into a malicious grin. "Precisely. We'll shower them with bullets instead of confetti. Killing the Ivankovs is going to be my play time."

Fucking idiots.

Erik snorts softly beside me, a look of derision clear on his face.

"Big talk," he murmurs, so only I can hear.

Another stooge, with a nervous twitch in his eye, steps forward. "Pakhan, the other warehouse…it's been torched. They got the girl and that punk out, too."

Aleks laughs, the sound echoing in the chilly warehouse. "Let ‘em think they're winning. Makes it all the sweeter when we come out on top."

The scarred muscle adds, "For our guys they took out, we'll make the Ivankovs pay."

Aleks leans in, cold fury in his eyes. "I'll personally put a round in each of their heads, just like I did with their last pathetic pakhan."

My blood boils. This piece of shit is talking about my father.

A deeper, gravelly voice cuts in, probably the big thug I've had the displeasure of meeting before. "Once everything's in place, Katerina will signal. Then we hit them hard and fast."

Dimitri's grip on the table tightens, his face an unreadable mask, but I can sense the storm brewing inside him.

Aleks's laugh grates on my nerves. "Strike at the heart, and the rest will crumble."

Fucking traitors, the lot of them.

That disgusting piece of shit, Aleks, scheming to butcher everyone at Yulia's birthday celebration. His own niece, damn him. His unquenchable thirst for control, his perverted craving for domination, his utter void of morals – he's no better than a rabid animal, and even that's giving him too much credit.

My gaze locks on Ollie. "Keep monitoring that feed. If anything significant comes up, get Erik on it. Don't miss a beat, alright?"

Ollie adjusts his glasses nervously, eyes darting between the screen and me. "Y-yes, sir. I got it. I'll, um, keep tabs on every pixel."

Erik gives Ollie an encouraging pat on the shoulder, clearly understanding the weight the tech whiz is shouldering.

I stare down at the piece of paper in my hand.

A birthday schedule, Yulia's name written in elegant script, the details of the celebration planned meticulously. I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger that's boiling inside me, a rage so fierce it threatens to consume everything.

My jaw clenches, the fury within me churning like a storm. How the hell does a man fall so far? He's a parasite, feeding off others' pain, selling out his own flesh and blood for what? Another taste of power? Another sliver of territory?

That bastard's greed has turned him into a monster, and I'm going to relish tearing him apart, piece by piece. He thinks he can play with lives, toy with family? He's going to learn just how wrong he is, and I'll enjoy every second of his suffering.

Breathing deep into my core, I feel the burning rage anchor me. "We need more firepower. More men," I hiss through gritted teeth. I lock eyes with Dimitri, unyielding.

"Dimitri, reach out to the DeMarcos. We might butt heads over territory, but one thing's for sure – Aleks is a thorn in their side, too. It's time to call in some favors."

"I'll get on it." Dimitri nods. "We've got to make everything look like business as usual, no hints of what's coming. That Katerina bitch better stay in the dark, or she'll find herself in a grave."

"Who's watching that bitch right now?" I snap, my voice ice-cold.

"No need to worry, Svetlana's got eyes on the rat," Dimitri sneers, his face twisted in contempt. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "He won't back down. We burned his building, killed his men, but that bastard will keep coming."

"But we'll need a fucking plan to protect Yulia at all costs," Erik says quietly.

Fuck!

Dimitri's face twists as he considers the danger to my baby sister.

I glance at the itinerary again, pausing at the grand finale for the plans of the day. Something about the delivery catches my eye.

"Glitz and Blaze Pyrotechnics," I read out the company name. We all look at each other, our eyes wide. It's a name that echoes Aleks's cunning, and in that moment, it's clear to all of us. That's how he's planning to get in, masking himself as a delivery man and worker for the fireworks setup.

Dimitri's jaw clenches as he bangs his hand against the wall. "The crafty bastard's going to waltz right into our party."

Erik's eyes narrow, deep in thought. "We'll be waiting for him. Let's turn his trick against him."

Dimitri paces, his eyes glinting with fury as he considers the options. "We'll put our own guys with the circus crew. Blades, guns, anything we need, hidden in plain sight. He won't even see it coming."

"Don't forget about Yulia," Erik says.

I clench my fists, my voice a low growl. "I'd rather die than put Yulia at risk, but there's no other way. She's an Ivankov, and that bastard Aleks won't resist the bait."

"We'll guard her like a pack of wolves. If that mad dog Aleks thinks he can touch her, he'll find our teeth tearing his throat out," Erik vows, his words a savage promise.

Dimitri looks at me, his eyes intense. "We love Yulia more than life itself. But to kill that devil, we need to use her."

Erik's fist clenches at the reminder of what's at stake. "I'll get the men ready." He stands abruptly, his movement decisive. "Aleks won't know what hit him."

"Don't go soft on me, bratan," I warn, my eyes on Erik.

Erik laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "No chance in hell." And with that, he leaves the room.

Dimitri doesn't leave. I know what he's going to ask me next.

"What's happening to Nilo, that fucking crackhead?" Dimitri asks, his tone cutting. "He's lucky he's not dead."

I lean back, my eyes cold as I consider his fate. "Rehab. A private center. He'll clean up, or he won't be breathing much longer."

"And Wren?" The change in Dimitri's voice is hard to miss, almost dripping with something more. A softness? Concern? The way he lingers on her name gives away more than he probably intends.

"She's bunkering down until everything's settled," I say, fixing him with a piercing look.

"Good." He's quick with that reply, too damn quick. Trying to mask something, but it's like a neon sign in a dark alley, glaring and obvious. Seems he's caught a little "feeling bug," the damned fool.

I smirk internally. Fucking emotions, always tripping up the best of us at the worst times. I'd have half a mind to call him out on it but now's not the time. With Aleks on our doorstep, we've got bigger fires to extinguish.

He inhales deeply from his cigarette, then grinds it out on the floor.

"You didn't kill Sophia," Dimitri finally states, his voice probing. "Even after she told you about the bugs she planted. You forget our rules about betrayal? It's death, Luka."

I keep quiet for a long moment, my mind racing. The words are there, but saying them out loud makes it real.

Finally, I meet his eyes. "I will not kill my woman and the mother of my child

Chapter 60

Dimitri

I SELPT.

But the moment I wake up, it hits me again like a ton of bricks.

"I will not kill my woman , the mother of my child."

My eyes had nearly popped out of my head. "You… You're going to be a father?"

"Yeah," Luka had answered, his voice solid, like he'd carved it in stone.

That's it. My best friend, my brother-in-arms, is going be a dad. And what am I? Stuck in the same shithole, playing the same twisted games.

A sick feeling settles in my stomach. Is it jealousy? Maybe. Sadness? Yeah, a bit of that too. It's like Luka's moving on to something big, something life-changing. And me? I'm still here, getting my hands dirty, fighting the same old fights.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but they stick with me, nagging like a damn itch I can't reach.

So, what do I do? The only thing I know how to do.

I fight.

That's why I'm here. The underground fight club smells like shit. Sweat, blood, and whatever dreams have died there. I'm tearing into some poor bastard like I want to kill him. The crowd is going nuts, screaming like a bunch of lunatics.

This place, hidden deep under the city, is a playground for sick fucks who get their kicks from watching men beat each other to a pulp. Money flows like water, all stained with pain and suffering.

Erik and I, we've been coming here for years. But tonight, it feels different. It's like there's something missing, something off. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the one who's off.

Luka's moving on, and here I am, stuck in the same damn place.

Fuck!

I land a punch, and the guy's face explodes in a spray of blood. The crowd goes wild, but I don't give a shit.

I fucking need the pain.

I fucking need someone to bleed.

It's one day till I finally get to end Aleks's miserable life.

And then it hits me like a kick in the belly. Little Yulia's birthday. Supposed to be her day. But it's all fucked up, and it's driving me insane.

"Fucking kill him, Dimitri!" Erik yells, his eyes wild.

I slam my fist into the guy's face again, feeling his nose break. Blood goes everywhere, and I don't care.

Aleks's face flashes in my mind, and I see red. How the fuck does he always know? How does he keep fucking everything up?

Yulia's birthday. Her sweet face, her laughter. It's all getting buried in this shitstorm, and it's tearing me apart.

Everything's fucked. Aleks, Yulia, Luka, my life. All of it.

Tomorrow's her day, but all I can think about is killing. Tearing Aleks apart.

The crowd's roaring, the blood's flowing, but all I feel is rage.

The guy swings at me, but I dodge and return with a knee to his gut. He doubles over, gasping for air, but I don't give him a chance to recover. I grab his head and slam it into my rising knee. Teeth scatter across the floor.

I roar, yanking my opponent up by the hair and unleashing a barrage of punches. I can feel his face cave under my fists, but I don't stop. I can't stop. Not until Aleks's smug smile is wiped off the face of this earth.

With one final, thunderous punch, the guy's body goes limp in my arms. I toss him aside like trash, my chest heaving, my blood singing in my veins.

I don't feel bad for the guy; he chose this life.

That's the fucking truth of choosing to be a fighter. There's no room for sympathy here.

Not in this hellhole.

A fleeting memory sears through my mind – me, at the age of sixteen, fists bloodied, teeth clenched, fighting older boys in grimy alleys for a handful of cash. Cash that would buy food for another night, alcohol to keep my father's rages at bay, drugs to numb my mother's despair.

Fighting to survive, always fighting.

The crowds are chanting now.

"More!"

"More!"

"More!" they howl, hungering for blood like a pack of wild animals.

They want more. Fucking cowards – all of them.

I look up, a sneer on my face, and show them a middle finger.

"Boooo!" they shout back, voices dripping with disappointment and anger.

"That was fucking brutal, man. You sure you're alright?" Erik is there, slapping me on the back, his face flushed with the thrill of the fight.

I wipe the blood from my mouth, my eyes dark. "I'm fine. Just thinking about that son of a bitch Aleks. I want to do the same to him."

Erik's smile fades, and he looks at me seriously. "We'll get him tomorrow. But we have to be smart. And you need to cool down."

"Cool down? He's fucking with us, Erik! Someone's feeding him information; I know it. I'll rip their fucking throat out when I find them."

And then, she comes strutting out. This woman with a dress so tight it looks like it's painted on. Half her fake tits spilling out, and her lips so big and shiny they look like they could be popped with a pin. She licks those fake lips, thinking it's sexy, but it makes my stomach turn.

I'm thinking of that girl – Wren. My mind goes to her lips. Real, plump, sexy lips like Angelina Jolie's. Those eyes, though…wild and fierce, they ignite something in me that I've never felt before. I've never seen anything like it – her, naked, blood splattered all over her body, a knife in her hand, ready to fight to the death. She's ferocious, untamed, and something in me desires that wildness, that fire.

The fighter in me wants to battle her, to dominate her, but the man in me wants to possess her, to claim her as mine.

What the fuck?

I shake the thoughts away, knowing they're dangerous. But they linger, like the scent of blood in the air, taunting me, challenging me.

I chuckle, a dark sound, at the memory of those bastards on the ground, both dickless and lifeless. Pathetic. She'd been terrifying, and goddamn, it's attractive.

Never in my life have I seen anyone like her.

Suddenly, the annoying voice of the fake-lipped woman brings me back to the present. "Congratulations, handsome. Here's your prize." She's trying so hard, batting those ridiculous fake lashes at me. She thinks she's got my attention, but all I see is the rawness of that other woman, the fire. The realness in the face of danger.

She presses the $10,000 cardboard to my chest, her nails like talons on my skin. I shove it back at her, feeling a flare of disgust.

"Give it to that dude." I jerk my thumb at my beaten opponent, bloodied and moaning on the floor. "I'm not here for the money."

Her eyes widen, her lips forming an exaggerated "O." She shakes her head. "But darling, it's $10,000! Think of what you could do with all that money!"

Money. I have plenty now.

Millions even.

That's not the point.

I see her pout, those absurd lips puckering like she's sucking on a lemon, but I don't give a damn. My mind's already drifting back to the past, to the time when money was everything.

I turn from her, her fakeness turning my stomach, and head for the door. No looking back.

I was raised by the pakhan, Luka's father.

He'd brought me over to the US. He saw something in me, a spark that no one else had cared to notice. A lost boy fighting in grimy alleys for a fistful of dollars to feed my family. My father's drunken rages, my mother's hollow eyes…they drove me to the edge. But Luka's father, the pakhan, he pulled me back. He saw something in me no one else did.

Aleks took that from me. He killed the pakhan, killed the only father I'd ever known.

"I know you're angry, Dimitri, but we have to be careful. We can't let emotion cloud our judgment." Erik's voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.

"Emotion?" I snort. "This is not about emotion. This is personal. It's about loyalty, about honor. Aleks will die by our hands tomorrow. That's a fucking guarantee."

I can't shake the image of her from my mind. I'm back in my room now, a place of steel and shadow, the walls lined with weapons, a dark sanctuary that's mine and mine alone. The air smells of gun oil and leather, mixed with the underlying scent of sweat from countless hours of training. But even here, in my private fortress, she invades my thoughts.

I rip off my shirt, the fabric tearing as I throw it across the room. It lands in a crumpled heap next to a stack of cash and ammo. The frustration is eating at me, and I need to get it out. My punching bag is there, waiting, and I attack it with everything I've got. Each punch is an explosion, a release, but it's not enough. It'll never be enough.

My body's a traitor, a fucking bastard that doesn't care about anything but its own desires. I storm to the shower, ripping off my jeans, my cock already hard and aching. It's a torment, a thick and veined monster that hasn't reacted like this in a long damn time. The sight of it, pulsing with need, the head shiny with pre-cum, has me snarling with frustration.

I turn the shower on, cold as ice, and the freezing spray hits my back, but it does nothing to quench the fire raging inside me. My cock throbs, aching for release, and my balls pull tight against my body as the desire surges through me. Every part of me is alive, on fire, and it's all because of her.

I grab my length, squeezing hard, trying to force the images from my mind. But it's no use. The thoughts of her, untamed and fearless, covered in blood and brandishing a knife, are burned into my brain. She's unlike anything I've ever seen, and my body reacts to her with a primal need that scares me to my core.

The fantasies are filthy and consuming, so raw and real that I can almost taste her. I imagine her lips, not the fake ones from earlier but her real, sinfully plump lips, sliding down my cock, inch by brutal inch. Her tongue would be skilled, fearless, tracing the veins on my shaft, tasting the pre-cum leaking from the tip.

I'd shove myself into her mouth, fucking her throat without mercy, feeling her gag on me, hearing the sounds of her choking and still pushing deeper. Her tits would bounce fiercely with each thrust, her nipples hard and begging for my touch. But it's her mouth I'm obsessed with, her mouth that's covered in blood and I don't give a shit. I just keep pounding her face, balls deep, holding her head and using her for my pleasure.

I pump my cock, stroking it as hard as I can and imagining her gagging. With a guttural grunt, my hips jerk uncontrollably as I explode, my cum shooting out in thick ropes, splattering against my stomach and the shower wall. There's no poetry in it, no romance, just the pure, primal satisfaction of a need fulfilled. I gasp for breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I turn the heat up in the shower. I wash myself off, scrubbing at my skin like I can somehow erase the filth of my thoughts.