Present time…

His hand curls into a fist against my back. “I was held back as she screamed for me,” he says, his tone breaking slightly, the memory shredding him. “Begged me to save her. But I couldn’t. And every second that ticked by, I knew what they were about to do to her. I fucking knew.”

A tear slips down my cheek, but I don’t wipe it away. I can’t.

“I never saw her again,” he says finally. “They never spoke about her to me again. It was like she never existed. Like she wasn’t my entire fucking world.”

He takes a pause, his eyes darting around as the memories consume him. “Days turned into weeks, and I accepted it. I accepted that they had done something to her. That she was gone forever.”

When his eyes meet mine again, they’re sharp, filled with a coldness I’ve never seen before. “My mind spiralled after that. And I planned. I killed them. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t fucking care about the consequences. I was done. They broke me too much.”

The quiet after his confession is deafening, every unspoken word lingering between us until he continues again.

“I spent years in that asylum, kitten. Fifteen years plotting, digging, waiting for the day I could get out and finish what I started. And now I’m doing it. One by one. Every single person who touched her, who profited from her pain—they’re going to pay.”

“Do you think she could still be alive?” I ask quietly.

His eyes flash to mine, and he pauses, thinking carefully before he finally shakes his head once, “No. She’s dead.”

I think about it, about everything he’s told me, and it makes me understand. Although I’ve always thought killing is wrong, is it when it’s against something like this?

“Why didn’t you tell the judge that this was your reason?”

He snickers before lowering his eyes, “Because they don’t want to hear my can of worms being opened, freckles. My family were involved with a system that people like judges and lawyers try to hide and protect. I don’t trust anyone. You can’t trust anyone in this life. So I lied. Said it was a black out and bided my time to get out of there to continue my warpath.”

“And what happens after? When does it end?”

“It ends when I find out what happened to her and where her body is,” my brows pinch and he carries on, “she should be buried in a field of daisies not in some grimy fucking woods somewhere or wherever the fuck they bury people they’ve used and killed.”

I reach up, brushing my fingers gently along his sharp jaw, grounding him in the present. “What if you get caught, Ty? What if…”

He just stares into my eyes, not answering right away, “Then I get caught.” He says with defiance, ready to risk it all.

The realization hits me that he’s ready to get these answers no matter what. He’s too far gone. He’s planned too heavily, he’s so wrapped up in vengeance, and his mind has been so consumed by it. Even after so many years, he’s still living trapped by what his parents did long after them being dead. And that hurts.

I lift my hand to his face, sweeping his jaw with my thumb.

“When do you get your happiness, hm? Don’t you think you’ve had enough misery.”

He stares into my eyes, but doesn’t answer, so I continue, hoping to dig somewhere deep. “Do you know what I think?” I ask and he just looks at me, ready to listen, I guess. “I don’t think you’re the person you think you are. Hell, I’m not even sure if you’re a psychopath anymore.”

His brows pinch enough for me to notice, but then he goes expressionless again.

“I’m not an expert, we’ve established that, and I don’t have the most experience, but one things for certain, Ty. You definitely feel. Much more than you think you do and above all, you fucking care. You care about your sister. You care about me. You’ll risk your life, your freedom, just to keep your special people safe.” I shake my head once, dropping my hand from his face and taking his hand.

“That’s not psychopathy. You’re just a little cracked, but cracks aren’t unfixable. You’re a little deranged, but that’s fine. You’re intelligent like a psychopath though, I’ll give you that, and… I’m kind of starting to like it.”

His eyes ease before a small smirk twitches across his lips.

…

It’s been a few days since that sacrifice—ritual thing and I’m in a haze of emotions. The rain outside pounds relentlessly against the glass, a steady beat that seems to mirror the pulse in my chest.

My arms are wrapped tightly around myself, trying to hold myself together, but it’s useless. The darkness is creeping at the edges of my thoughts, and the memory of that little boy—his cries, his terror—won’t leave me. It churns in my gut, making me feel like I might vomit.

I’m trapped in my own mind, reliving the horrors. I can’t shake it. And just as the tears start to blur my vision, I feel him behind me. Ty’s right there, his shadow cast against the window.

“I can’t stop thinking about that little boy,” I say quietly, like I’m confessing some deep sin. “I just hope he’s okay.”

Ty doesn’t respond immediately, and I don’t turn to face him.

“He’s alive if that what’s you mean.”

I spin around when he says the words and notice he’s dressed, closed off, his ski mask firmly in place.

“How do you know?” I ask, my eyes scanning him.

“Because I found out who the fuck they were, and he went to school today.”

I feel my body melt, like a some of the weight has just been lifted off my body, but then my focus returns to him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some things to do, beautiful girl. Someone to find,” Ty replies, cool and detached.

The room feels smaller now, my breaths rushing at the thought of him out there, in danger.

“But…”

Ty doesn’t move at first, but his gaze shifts—like he’s measuring me, pulling apart every emotion I try to hide. But I don’t look away.

“Do you think they should die, Raven?” He suddenly questions, shifting the subject to something darker. Something that makes my blood run cold.

I blink blankly, trying to process what he’s saying. The words don’t seem to connect, don’t make sense.

“What?” My bottom lip trembles as I ask.

His eyes never leave mine, his stare unblinking. “His parents. Do you want them dead?”

The question isn’t just about them anymore. It’s about everything—the system, the people who hurt him, the ones who let it happen. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and the only thing I can do is fall.

“Yes,” I whisper and the word escapes before I can stop it. My hand flies to my mouth, like it can somehow pull it back inside, but it’s already out there.

Ty’s growl is dangerous, and it vibrates like a warning. He stands up straighter, his gaze still fixed on mine, but now there’s something sinister in it.

He gives a calm head gesture to behind him. “So, get your coat and fucking keys.”

My eyes widen as he turns his back to me, heading over to the bed to grab his bag and axe. I stand there, stuck on the spot, but eventually, I start to shuffle forward. Curiosity not only getting the better of me, but that little boys cries echoing in my mind.

…

The rain pelts against the windshield as if trying to smash its way in, the rhythmic slapping of the wipers doing little to swipe the water away. The highway stretches ahead as I twist my fingers around the steering wheel.

“Where are we going?” I finally ask, glancing at him, trying to gauge his mood, but he’s blank; just staring at me from behind his hood.

“We’re going to chop them into tiny fucking pieces,” Ty says, his tone casual, like he’s explaining the weather or giving directions.

My stomach twists violently. “What? What do you mean “we”?”

He smirks faintly, his thumb brushing across his bottom lip. His gaze is dark, calculating, and all too knowing. I feel exposed under it. It’s like he’s staring at the woman of his dreams and as if he wants to devour me whole and spit me out as his dark princess.

“I’m not like you, Ty,” I blurt, my words stumbling over each other as my eyes drag down him, unable to stop myself. “I don’t have a…” I look forward, refocusing on the road ahead. “Strong stomach.”

He hums softly, an almost amused sound. “It’s okay, freckles,” he murmurs. “You will after tonight.”

I swallow hard as I try to force myself to keep calm. But the little boy’s screams echo faintly in the back of my mind, and it reminds me why I said I wanted them to die in the first place. While they’re alive, the more harm will come to him. He’s not safe with them. He never will be.

Ty’s chilled presence unnerves me, his absolute lack of hesitation in what’s about to happen. My hands tighten on the wheel again as I brace myself. I don’t know if I’m fucking ready for this, for what he’s about to show me, for what it will mean to see him unleash the beast inside him right in front of me at the highest level.

…

Finally, we pull into a street lined with sprawling mansions, the kind of wealth that doesn’t just scream privilege but flaunts it. I cut the engine, and the quiet buzz dies, leaving only the patter of rain. My eyes lock on a lit-up house across from us, its golden glow spilling into the darkness.

“But… is he there?” I whisper. “I don’t want him to find his parents like that.”

Ty doesn’t look at me as he growls. “He’s not there. He stays with his aunt and cousins every Wednesday after school.”

Before I ask how he knows all this information, the mansion’s lights go dark, sinking the house into shadow.

“That’s our cue,” he says, reaching down to grab his axe resting between his legs. The blade glints faintly as his gloved fingers curl around the handle.

“Wait,” I exclaim, my hand shooting out to rest on his bicep and he calmly side-eyes me. “How do you know all this stuff, Ty?”

He lets out a deep sigh, sitting back slightly. “The dad had a logo embroidered on his suit that night. For his company. I searched it up online, found him on social media and because they’re fucking fools, like most of the world, they put their entire lives online. Showing off their perfect, shiny lives and their precious fucking wealth.”

My stomach sinks as his words settle over me. The sharp edge of his intelligence is just as terrifying as his animalistic strength.

“It took me an hour,” he continues. “A simple fucking hour to find out everything I needed—where the little boy goes to school, his parents’ routines, their weekly schedules. They made it that fucking easy for me.”

The sheer ease of how he pieced together these strangers’ lives feels surreal, invasive—and yet, in this case, justified. For the little boy’s sake. That’s why I’m here, I remind myself. Because of him.

“They made it that easy for you,” I murmur.

“People like that always do, my beautiful girl,” he replies, his eyes fixed on the house. “They’re too arrogant to think anyone would dare come for them.”

He glances over at me again, his expression softening, but only slightly. “That’s why I told you, freckles. This world’s not fair. The good don’t always win. But sometimes, the bad get what’s fucking coming to them.”

I nod slowly, our eyes locked in a silent challenge, as tension coils tighter between us. I shift, kneeling on my seat, leaning into him, and bringing my palm to the side of his neck. My fingers trace the back of his hair as I press my lips to his. The kiss starts soft, but the intensity between us erupts like a spark to gasoline.

As our lips part, his tongue slides into my mouth with a possessive hunger. A moan escapes me only to be met by his growl rumbling down my throat. His arm wraps around my back with sudden force, yanking me onto his lap with dominance. My heart races as his lips devour mine, rough and urgent, like he’s pulling the air from my lungs.

His other hand moves swiftly, shoving my thighs apart, then I feel the heat of his touch as his gloved fingers cup my pussy over my sweatpants. A fire ignites deep in my core, spreading fast and I instinctively try to close my legs against the pleasure, but it’s useless as he continues to rub me out, pressing his fingers firmly down on my clit.

My gasp against his lips is shaky as I whisper, “I’m on my…”

“Even better,” he snarls as his wild gaze holds mine, but before I can even protest, he swings the car door open.

Cold rain lashes inside, sharp against my hoodie, and before I can even think to scream, his gloved hand clamps firmly over my mouth.

“Time to be a quiet little kitten for me until we’re finished. Then, I’m gonna have you screaming for hours.”

I stare at him for a long moment, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. My body moves before my mind catches up, stepping out of the car into the storm. Rain crashes down, soaking me instantly, the cold seeping through my clothes and chilling me to the bone.

Behind me, Ty follows, then the car door is shut quietly. My hood falls forward as I lower my head, trying to shield myself, then I feel his grip around my hand. His gloved fingers wrap around mine as he drags me into his world—into what’s about to happen.

My legs move on autopilot as he leads me across the yard, the rain-soaked grass squelching beneath my boots. His silhouette cuts through the storm ahead of me and his axe glints faintly in his other hand.

We move around the side of the mansion, sticking close to the walls and my pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out everything else as we approach the back patio doors.

Without hesitation, Ty presses a gloved hand against the glass, sliding the door open as if he owns the place. My stomach churns as I step inside after him, water dripping from my clothes onto the polished floor. The stupidity of it strikes me—how someone could leave their home so exposed, so vulnerable.

Do they truly believe they’re invincible? The thought makes my gut churn, anger simmering briefly beneath the fear.

Inside, the mansion feels hollow and the rain outside starts to fade into the background, replaced by the soft hum of the house itself. My wet clothes cling to my skin, cold and uncomfortable, but the chill from the storm is nothing compared to the icy dread that is starting to run through my veins.

I glance at Ty, his face is now covered, his figure moving with lethal grace as he steps deeper into the shadows. There’s no hesitation in him, no second-guessing. Every step he takes feels ready, and I know there’s no turning back now.

The house is overwhelming in its extravagance—whites, golds, and marble stretch out in every direction, exuding wealth and privilege as if it’s all designed to broadcast their untouchable status. My gaze catches on a row of photos lining the wall as we move past them and that little boy’s eyes in the pictures seem to follow mine, innocent and wide.

We reach the base of the grand staircase, its polished rail gleaming even in the dim light. Our footsteps barely make a sound as we climb. When we reach the top, something cuts through the stillness—a muffled sound from down the hall. My heart stutters, and Ty’s clutch on my hand becomes firmer.

We exchange a glance, but he’s already pulling me toward the noise, his movements more slower now. The sound grows louder as we approach, no longer just muffled but unmistakably human—rhythmic, intimate. My stomach churns, bile rising as the hallway opens before us, showing a set of double doors at the far end that are wide open.

As we edge closer, the scene comes into view. The bedroom is massive, with a huge bed dominating the center. She’s on top of him, her back to us, her naked body glistening under the soft glow of the massive chandelier. Her body moves up and down as she rides him, his tattooed hands digging into her waist. Her moans echo through the space, each sound sharper than the last.

Revulsion clutches me harder. This fucking house, this picture-perfect couple with their fake images of wealth and happiness—they don’t care about the lives they’ve ruined. About the lives they’ve destroyed.

I can’t look away, even as nausea twists in my gut. They’re oblivious to us, lost in their depravity. The little boy’s face flashes in my mind again, and the sickening contrast between his pure eyes and this bizarre fucking display makes my blood boil.

Ty’s hand slips from mine, and I feel the cold emptiness left behind as he moves forward, his steps gaining speed and purpose. Both hands grip the handle of his axe tightly, his knuckles white with tension. I hesitate, my feet slowing as I watch him charge into the room ahead, unflinching, unstoppable.

The woman spots him first. Her head jerks around, and her scream pierces the quietness, echoing through the mansion’s grand halls. She scrambles off the bed, naked and desperate, but Ty doesn’t falter. Not for a second.

The man barely has time to react. Ty lifts his axe with a force that shakes the room, a guttural roar tearing from his throat. The blade connects with the man’s chest, sinking deep. The sound it makes is wet, heavy, final. My body jerks involuntarily at the violence of it. Blood sprays in a curve, splattering up the perfect white walls, staining the gold trim, flecking the crystal chandelier overhead.

But Ty doesn’t stop. He lifts the axe again, his muscles straining, his eyes filled with pure rage. The second swing is harder, the crunch of bone and flesh colliding with the blade slashing in my ears. The sound is sickening—a blend of wet thuds and sharp cracks—and it feels like it’s embedding itself into my very bones. Blood pools beneath the bed, spreading across the marble floor in a creeping tide.

As I slowly step into the room, my eyes are drawn first to the mangled corpse on the bed. He’s unrecognizable now, a mass of blood and severed tissue. My gaze shifts to the far corner of the room, where the woman cowers, trembling violently. She’s wrapped in a white sheet, clutching it tightly to her chest as if it’s a shield. Her wide, terrified eyes dart between Ty and me, her lips quivering.

Scared.

She’s fucking scared.

My hands clench into fists as rage boils in my veins. Scared? She dares to tremble now, to cower like the fucking victim? My mind flashes to the little boy’s face, his cries echoing in the darkness of my memory. Where was her fear then? When her child, her baby , screamed for help, for mercy? She wasn’t trembling then. She didn’t flinch when it was his innocence being torn apart for their sick, twisted world.

With Ty so lost in his frenzy, hacking at that man like a wild animal, she thinks she can make a run for it. She sprints toward me, eyes wide with panic, trying to reach for the door. As she passes me, my leg snaps out, sending her crashing to the marble floor with a brutal thump. She barely has time to gasp before Ty makes his way over, storming toward her like an absolute maniac. My maniac.

I take a step back, watching, heart pounding, as he lifts the axe. He doesn’t hesitate. The blade comes down with a shocking crunch, embedding deep into her back. She screams, an intense, gut-wrenching sound, but it only seems to fuel him. He yanks the axe free, the sound of it dragging through bone and flesh echoing in the room, and then—without a second thought—he slams it down again, and again, and again, each blow ripping into her, carving her apart. Her screams dissolve into wet, ragged gasps, the life draining from her with every swing, until nothing but twitching remains.

Ty’s eyes are expanded, unhinged, completely lost in the madness of it. And I stand there, breathing heavy, seeing it all, as the room fills with the coppery scent of death.

Suddenly, he turns, his hand—slick with blood—slams around my throat, the pressure so intense it steals the air from my lungs. I choke, completely caught off guard as his hold tightens. He drops his axe, cracking the marble floor, and growls against my lips. Without warning, he lifts me, my feet barely grazing the floor, my body straining as I claw at his wrist. His eyes are burning with a hunger that I’ve seen once before—an unsettling madness, something far deeper than desire.

Then, with a brutal shove, he sends me flying, my back slamming into the blood-soaked mattress. The mangled corpse of the man lies just inches from me, his blood soaking into the sheets and me. I scramble, pushing myself up onto my elbows, panic rushing through my veins. I stare at Ty, his muscles taut with fury, ripping off his hoodie and tossing it aside like it’s nothing. His ski mask follows, and then his hands work on his belt, the sound of metal scraping against leather sending a shiver down my spine.

I look around, frantic, my eyes darting, searching for something—god knows what. The room is chaos, death festering in every corner. And yet, his focus is on me. When his belt is loose, he steps forward, slow and deliberate. At the foot of the bed, he kneels on it, placing himself between my legs.

His hands clamp down on my waist, yanking me down toward him with brutal force. The hem of my hoodie is grabbed, ripped up my body in one swift motion, and tossed aside. Then his hands are on my sweatpants, yanking the waistband with a savage twist, ripping them and my panties down in one swift motion, leaving me completely naked—only my black boots remaining, my body vulnerable beneath him.

“Ty…” I stare into his eyes—dark, empty, and filled with only one thing: lust. The blood soaks into my back, drenches my skin. And I’m here, caught in the craziness of it all, doing nothing but waiting for him to take what he wants.

“I just want to violently fuck your pussy as warm blood drips down your soft skin, my little kitten. Is that too much to ask?”

I just blink blankly, a sick mix of fear and arousal sweeping through me before he lowers his mouth to my breast. His teeth graze my nipple, tugging it sharply, pulling it until it stings, and I can’t help the hiss that escapes me, my back arching.

His mouth explores my body with a brutal, possessive rhythm. He bites sharply, marking me before he sucks, his lips tasting, until he’s head is positioned between my thighs.

I feel his fingers wrap around the string of my tampon and the action feels like an intrusion. He pulls it out slowly, the humiliation making my body tighten, but I can’t dwell on it. Not when his tongue follows, diving into my bloody pussy with relentless hunger.

I gasp, my head sinking back into the drenched mattress, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I reach down, grabbing his hair with both hands. I clench tightly as he destroys me with his tongue and teeth, eating me like he’s starved. He keeps me wide open, his fingers digging into my inner thighs as they shake from the sensations he’s pulling from my body.

God, this man knows how to eat pussy, but bloody pussy? He’s going crazy for it.

He grows savage, his control unravelling with every passing second. His tongue plunges inside me, probing, swirling with an animalistic growl that vibrates against my core. The sensation sends shockwaves through me, and then he flattens his tongue, dragging it slowly up my slit. When his lips close around my throbbing clit, the suction is ruthless, drawing a sharp, uncontrollable cry from my throat.

“Oh, my—fuck…” The words rip free, raw and broken.

I buck against his mouth, every muscle tensing, straining against the ecstasy building inside me. My breaths come uneven, narrow, staggering on the edge of losing my damn mind.

And then, he pulls away.

The absence is devastating, leaving me trembling and throbbing, every nerve screaming for his tongue. Before I can even register it, he flips me onto my stomach in one swift, dominating motion. The sheets stick to my skin, wet with blood, smearing the crimson like warpaint before he lifts me off the bed.

Before I can push the tangled mess of red hair from my face, he shoves me forward, positioning me in front of a wall of mirrors. My legs nearly buckle beneath me, still trembling from the aftermath of his mouth, but my palms slam against the cold glass for support and blood streaks across it in chaotic smears.

He’s on me in an instant. His hand twists into my hair, tangling it tight around his fist, and yanks my head back with a sharpness that forces a hiss from my lips. My eyes snap up, finding his towering over me from behind. My period blood paints his chin, and his ravenous gaze drags down the back of my body as if he’s cherishing every inch of carnage he’s creating. His eyes lingering on the curve of my ass, his chest rising and falling with hunger.

Then, without warning, his fingers plunge inside me—two of them, quick, brutal, rough. A loud scream tears from my throat, but it’s silenced in an instant as he yanks my hair harder, snapping my head back further, becoming trapped between pain and pleasure, as he slides in another finger.

The stretch burns, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the overwhelming sensations coursing through me. Yet, even as my body tenses, I don’t resist. I let him take what he wants from me, because somewhere, buried deep beneath the degradation and the pain, a shadow of desire always stirs—a dark truth I can’t deny. Ifucking wantthis.

In the mirror, I watch as he lets a trail of spit fall from his lips. I don’t see where it lands until the wetness of his thumb circles my asshole, and then he pushes it inside me without hesitation. A deep, throaty moan spills from my lips, my eyes flutter closed as my body responds, helpless to the sensation.

His fingers move in sync now, easing deeper, spreading my holes open as he works all four in and out of me. As I start to feel full and almost overwhelmed, he releases my hair and his gloved hand slides around to the front of my throat, clutching me firmly. He tilts my head back until I have no choice but to meet his gaze above me again.

His lips hover near mine, the heat of his breath brushing against my skin as his pace shifts, fierce now. His fingers plunge inside me hard and fast, each thrust relentless, each movement made to shatter me. A scream rips from me, unrestrained, muffled only by his nearness. My legs tremble beneath me, threatening to give way under the intensity, but his hold keeps me upright, keeps me exactly where he wants me. His teeth grind down with each thrust. His eyes darkening as he watches me fall apart.

Just as the release tears through me, violent and uncontrollable, he rips all four fingers out of my body. The sudden emptiness leaves me gasping, the force of my orgasm hitting me like a wave, overpowering and devastating. My body quakes, and I sag against the mirror, only for him to twist his fingers back inside my pulsing pussy, the rough, slick action pulling another cry from my throat.

I feel everything—my come, my blood, hot and sticky as it streaks down my thighs, mixing into a chaos I can’t even begin to process. He doesn’t care. If anything, he fucking loves it. He loves showing his dominance over me and I crave it.

“Fuck, there’s something seriously wrong with you,” I moan against his lips.

He snickers, then curls all three of his fingers deep, dragging another scream from me. He releases my throat and grabs the back of my hair, pressing my forehead against the mirror.

“All this blood? I fucking love it. I love seeing your period dripping from your messy pussy. It drives me fucking insane,” he growls into my ear. “Now watch what I do to you, beautiful girl. Watch how I make this gory cunthole contract around my cock.”

He yanks his fingers out of me, leaving me gasping at the sudden emptiness, before pulling his heavy, throbbing shaft free from his boxers. His grip shifts, one hand tangling in the back of my hair, holding me in place as the other guides himself to my pussy. My legs tremble, threatening to give out, as the swollen head of his dick drags up the slick slit. He pauses at the hole, teasing, pressing just enough to make me ache for more, before pushing inside.

The stretch is slow, and he makes me feel him, inch by agonizing inch and I tense as my body adjusts to the fullness of his big cock. My head dips, eyes drawn to the sight below and I watch him sink deeper, my pussy stretched out around his thick girth. He fills me completely until there’s absolutely nothing left to take.

When he’s fully buried inside, his satisfied growl rumbles against my ear, dark and animalistic, sending a thrill through me and I bite my bottom lip, pushing my ass back against him, preparing myself for the violence that he’s about to unleash.

There’s no hesitation. He drags his dick back and slams into me, the force of it knocking the air out of me. Again and again, he drives into me, each thrust savagely harsh, each one deeper than the last. His hips collide with my ass with brutal slaps, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room. My body quakes under the onslaught, every nerve alive, my blood running hot as it streaks down my thighs with each punishing strike.

He shows me no mercy and it builds quickly, rising like something I can’t stop, crashing through me with an overwhelming power.

My climax tears through me, leaving me screaming, “Ty, oh, God!” as my pussy clenches tight around him, my release consuming me utterly.

My body trembles uncontrollably as Ty lifts me, his arm locked firmly around my waist, his cock still buried deep inside me. The strength in his movements feels effortless as he carries me to the bed once more. He drops me onto it, my hands and knees sinking into the soaked, bloody sheets. My fingers clutch the wet fabric instinctively, searching for stability, but my legs shake so violently I can barely hold myself upright.

With a force that winds me, he presses down on my back, making my arms buckle. My face smashes into the bed, the metallic tang of blood invading my senses. Before I can react, his hands grabs my wrists, yanking them behind me and pinning them in one massive hold.

I see him reach over to the body beside me. Then I hear it—a wet, grotesque squelching sound. My stomach churns. The sickly noise of blood and guts being disturbed fills the room, and panic flares in my chest.

Then I see it. From the corner of my eye, a length of intestine swings into view, glistening with gore. My eyes widen in horror, then I squeeze them shut, my entire body convulsing at the thought.

“No, no—too far, Ty!” I scream.

He fucking ignores me. The slimy, alien texture wraps around my wrists, cold and slick, making bile rise in my throat. The sensation alone is enough to make my head spin, my consciousness threatening to slip away.

He ties the red ropes with heavy, untamed breathes, as if my refusal fuels him, as if this moment—my terror—is his masterpiece.

Ty’s low chuckle, followed by sharp crack of his hand against my ass jolts me forward, and I let out a shriek, my skin stinging where his palm landed.

“Shut the fuck up and take it like I know you can, Red,” he growls, dripping with menace. “You’re not walking out of this room the same woman you once were. You’re here to be…”

Thrust, and I gasp.

“Fucking.”

Another thrust,

“Broken,” he snarls. “Physically. And mentally.”

Before I can respond—if I even dare—he’s already moving, his grasp rough and unrelenting. His hands clamp around my waist, yanking me closer to the edge of the bed.

He then spreads my ass wide, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with a bruising intensity. I can feel his eyes on me, devouring every inch as he watches himself slide in and out of my pussy, each movement slow and torturous.

As the wet sounds fill the room, a deep rumble pulls from his throat, and his head falls back, his neck rolling as if he’s loving every second, every sensation. His clutches hard, his nails biting into my skin, and the possessiveness in his touch makes my stomach coil.

“My beautiful little bloody cum slut,” he spits through tight teeth with frustration. “You know how to take me so well and I fucking love it.”

His gaze snaps back to me, dark and fierce, and I watch from the corner of my eye as he starts ramping up the pace. His face contorts into a mask of pleasure and insanity as he smashing into the deepest depths of me repeatedly.

He fucks me sadistically for what feels like hours, cumming, then going again, forcing me into multiple orgasms continuously until we both can’t physically take anymore. When I’m completely overflowing with his hot cum, he slides his heavy dick out of my swollen pussy, and I let out a gasp, my exhausted body falling forward. I try to draw air into my lungs, my entire body shaking violently and sweating. He drags his zipper back up with calm movements, watching me closely.

“Let’s get out of here, freckles.” He says and I groan as he lifts my lifeless body off the bed. When I stand, he holds me up and I feel blood and ridiculous amounts of his cum run down my legs.

We both glance down before looking at each other and we share a laugh despite the depravity of it all. His hand gently finds my cheek, his thumb sweeping across my cheek.

“You did good, little slayer. How do you feel?”

I take a small glance around, taking in the madness of it all before my eyes meet his. I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing his lips down to mine.

“I don’t regret a single second.” I whisper before shoving my tongue into his mouth.

He devourers me with a growl, pulling me closer to him, his hand grabbing my asscheek tightly and when he pulls away, leaving me breathless and tingling, he scans my eyes sinisterly.

“That’s my fucking girl.”