Chapter Five

Ty

“What can I get for you, handsome?” The barmaid asks as I slide onto a stool opposite her.

My eyes drag away from Raven, from the hypnotic way her body moves to the music, and they settle briefly on the bartender. She thinks I’m interested, leaning over the bar, her big tits perched on it, practically inviting me to ruin her by the end of the night, but all she’s getting is a flicker of my attention—a look that’s more like a warning than anything close to attention.

“Whiskey,” I say, my voice low, laced with a sharpness that probably cuts her a little deeper than she expected.

I’m not fucking here for her. This shithole, this drink, the people—they’re all just distractions. My real focus is my Kitten, caught in the haze of music and dim light, completely unaware of the hungry storm brewing just a few feet away.

The bartender places the drink down in front of me, but I barely glance at it. I let my gaze find Raven again, narrowing in on the way she laughs, so easy, so unaware. It’s an intoxicating pull. She’s out there with strangers who have no idea that she belongs to something darker.

Me.

Lifting the glass, I feel the weight of it, the way it fits in my hand. The burn of the whiskey against my lips is new, something I haven’t tasted before, a bite I don’t need, but tonight it feels wanted.

I’ve never seen her like this—so carefree, every guarded look and careful distance she usually keeps is stripped the fuck away. It’s powerful, yet somehow terrifying…for her, at least, but she doesn’t know that, yet. I can see that she thinks she’s safe, believing those walls she’s built up are still protecting her. But they’re not. Not from me anymore. I’m fucking here, hiding in the shadows, stalking her like a bloodhungry animal craving to tear my prey to shreds.

I hyper fixate on her, gradually losing the grasp on my restraint, on what little sanity I actually have, and I realize—there’s nothing fucking stopping me now. Nothing holding me back from taking what I want, no matter what anyone says. This new freedom, to be able to claim her as mine is fucking dangerous, yet it’s a danger I’m willing to drown us both in.

I’ll destroy her, just to keep her.

Suddenly her and the blonde girl stop dancing and head in this direction. I drop my head, concealing myself with my hood, slowly sliding my black ski mask over my nose and mouth, shadowing myself. They settle at the end of the bar, laughing away and I peek around my hood, the smell of her evading my senses already even beyond the overpowering stench of alcohol and my mask.

So sweet and pretty.

“Damn it!” The woman she’s with mutters, clutching her phone in one hand, already gathering her coat and bag in the other. “I’ve got to go,” she says, leaning in to give her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

She hurries out, leaving my kitten alone with this weird dude, whose gaze has been all over her the entire night. The two of them watch her leave, and then Raven turns, slipping into easy conversation with him. It’s light-hearted, friendly enough on her behalf—but the fury inside me starts to burn the more I watch. How he’s looking at her, his hungry eyes dropping down to her tits every time she looks away.

When he presses her little nose with the tip of his finger, my blood runs cold. I’ll murder the cunt. I’ll chop him into tiny fucking pieces and send him home to his little girlfriend in pretty packaged boxes.

My fingers squeeze around the glass, every ounce of control barely holding me back from shattering it right here in my hand. She gets up again, sensing something, maybe feeling his sleazy fucking stare creeping up her spine as she heads to the jukebox, away from him. I track her with a side-eye as she passes, then lock my hooded gaze on him, watching through narrowed eyes as he makes his move. The cunt waits, scanning the room like he’s being discreet, before pulling a small packet from his pocket and tipping it into her drink.

Anger coils inside me, winding tighter until I’m on the verge of snapping. The thought of that glass touching her lips forces every nerve in my body to the edge. I pull my mask down, and drag out a long sip of my drink, setting it down with a controlled calm that’s purely for show. My gaze barely leaves him as he taps his foot, his face smug with anticipation until he finally stands, heading toward the restroom, like he thinks he has it all planned out.

I look back at her glass, then at Raven by the jukebox, completely unaware. Sliding off my stool, I pass by her drink and with a sharp flick of my finger, I send it crashing to the floor, the shattering glass echoing through the bar.

“Hey!” the barmaid barks, but I don’t even glance at her. My eyes are fixed on that restroom door as I push it open, stepping into the dim, stale-smelling room.

He’s at the urinal with his back to me, whistling like he’s already fucking won. I walk forward slowly, lifting my mask over my nose and stopping just a few steps behind him, my gaze darkening as I picture all the ways this is about to end for him.

I observe him with a strange happiness as he finishes zipping up and finally turns, his eyes barely registering my presence before he tries to brush past me.

But he doesn’t get far.

My hand shoots out, clamping around his throat in a hold so tight his windpipe closes, his oxygen instantly choked off. His face turns a sickly purple as he claws at my arm, eyes widening in pure terror as he realizes he can’t break free. I lean in close, the grinding of my teeth almost audible, my murderous gaze boring into him, letting him feel every ounce of the temper boiling beneath the surface.

Just as he starts to put up a fight, I twist my hand tighter, then pull back and drive my other fist into his face with a sickening crunch. His head snaps back, but I keep him locked in place, tightening my hold, and then land another punch. And another. Each blow lands with brutal force, blood splattering my knuckles and his skin splitting under the relentless pounding. His skull gives way under my power, and when I finally release him, he slumps to the floor, groaning in a half-conscious, bloody heap.

But I’m nowhere near fucking done.

Grabbing him by the collar, I drag his heavy body to a nearby stall, tossing him into the filthy cubicle. He lands against the toilet, but I don’t waste a second. I grab a fistful of his blood-soaked hair and slam his face down into the shitty toilet bowl. He thrashes, spluttering as the rancid water fills his nose and mouth, but I’m beyond caring. I press my boot against the back of his neck, pinning him down with all my weight. His body convulses under me, desperate for air, but I hold him firmly, enjoying the way he struggles.

Reaching into my pocket, I slide out my knife, letting the blade gleam under the dim restroom light. I catch his waving hand, holding it in an iron grip, then raise the knife as he gurgles below me, the monster inside me fully unleashed.

I press the edge of the blade to the base of the finger that dared touch her little nose and with a swift flick, it’s severed, hitting the filthy floor with a wet smack. He screams into the toilet water, his voice muffled and helpless. As I position the blade under the next finger, the door creaks open before closing again. My hand freezes mid-slice, and I turn my head slightly to see who it is.

It’s her.

Raven stands there, clearly entered the wrong restroom, wide-eyed and rooted to the spot, her gaze flitting from the blood pooling on the floor to my hidden side profile.

Perfect timing.

I wait, expecting her to back away, to bolt from the room. But she doesn’t. Instead, she stupidly steps forward, those soft therapist eyes fixed on me, trying to mask her panic with calm.

“Hey…” she says, like she’s coaxing a patient out of a fucking nightmare. “You don’t have to do this.”

My teeth grind noticeably, annoyance sweeping through me as the guy’s movements starting to slow. Any normal person would have run out that fucking door, but not Raven, she’s trying to act hero against a fucking serial killer. The stupidity of her innocence is shocking.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she murmurs, her voice annoyingly warm, her hand landing softly on my shoulder.

The moment her fingers make contact, I twist, reaching up and wrapping my bloodied gloved hand around her delicate throat before she could even see it coming. Her eyes go wide, a mix of terror and confusion flashing across her pretty face as I pull her close, lifting her just enough to force her up on her tiptoes.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is. My little kitten,” I taunt, letting the words roll off my tongue, my head cocked to the side in an unsettling tilt.

She stares back at me, those expanded blue eyes searching my own, the only part of me visible through the dark mask.

“Ty?” she chokes out.

My hand strengthens around her throat as I walk her back, her fingers curling around my wrist, trying to pry me off. When I’ve got her trapped against the grimy tiles, I release her, and she gasps for air, her hand instinctively clutching her neck. Her eyes flick to the bloody mess behind me, but I shift, blocking her view.

“What have you done?” she asks, her scared gaze darting to mine.

“He drugged your drink,” I reply, each word exact and cold. Her face shifts, suspicion turning to horror.

“What?”

“You left your drink alone, and he took his shot,” I snarl, the anger fizzing under my hot flesh as I glance back at the unconscious scum on the floor, itching to finish the job.

“What are you doing here, Ty?” she asks softly. “Are you… following me?”

Her question pulls at something sinister inside me. I turn my head and take a step closer, eyes boring into hers as the truth—sick, hungry, and relentless—presses in, closer than she realizes.

“Yes,” I respond quietly and honestly.

Her brows shoot up, panic flashing across her face, then without a second’s hesitation, she tries to rush past me, but I reach out, grabbing her upper arm and dragging her back. She twists her arm sharply, wrenching free of my grasp, and glares at me with a fire I haven’t seen before.

“I know you think I’m weak, Ty, but outside of those asylum’s walls, I’m anything but.” She hisses and presses a finger hard against my chest. I glance down at it, smirking slightly as she jabs harder.

“This ends now,” she spits, defiance glistening in her icy eyes. “I’m done. Whatever you think this is, I’m not entertaining it. I’ll turn you in… I’ll…”

My jaw locks. “Oh yeah?” I cut her off, pushing her buttons.

“Yeah,” her gaze narrows. “You need to leave me the fuck alone.”

“But I did it for you, kitten,” I growl, barely containing my frustration. “If I hadn’t been here, he would’ve hurt you.”

She shakes her head, her expression strained. “Thank you, but this—this isn’t how to handle it. You could’ve just told me, warned me. Why… why cut his fucking fingers off?” Her tone drops, the confusion heavy, as if she’s still processing the nightmare unfolding around her.

“Because he touched your little freckled nose,” I reply, every word laced with raw, delirious truthfulness. Her eyes widen, her body betraying a slight shiver as she instinctively glances away, trying not to look into my intense gaze.

“Fuck,” she whispers, but then, like a rabbit breaking for freedom, she bolts toward the door, but again, I’m faster. My hand catches her fiery red hair, yanking her back. She gasps, a small wince escaping as her back collides with my chest, and in one smooth motion, I slap a bloodied gloved hand over her mouth.

“Shh…” I murmur darkly, gazing down at her panicked side-profile, tracing the edge of my knife gently across her cheek, enjoying the way her body shakes in terror. She’s facing the scene now, the guy’s unconscious form slumped over the toilet, his face pressed into the bowl. Her breath traps, her watery eyes locked onto the deadly mess I’ve made, and I don’t let her look away.

“I think he deserves to lose his eyes too, Raven.” I say quietly, my lips close to her ear. “After all… he dared to look at what’s fucking mine. That’s a death penalty in my book, but I’ll go easy just this once. If he loses his fucking eyes and fingers, it’ll be very hard for him to ever drug an innocent woman again, don’t you think?”

“Ty,” she pleads against my hand in response, a tear slipping down her flushed cheek. “Please don’t do this.”

“Oh, freckles, I’d do anything for you. But one thing I won’t do is have you stop me from doing what the fuck is right. You’ll learn the hard way, my beautiful girl.”

I slip my knife into my pocket and push her forward, guiding her to where he lies—his body limp. I pull him aggressively from the toilet, dragging him by his scruff, the sickening sound of his body scraping against the floor echoing in the cold, sterile silence of the bathroom. He lands with a soft thud, his face a grotesque mask of blue.

I lean down, forcing her to do the same, making her witness what I’m about to do. Her chest heaves with each breath until my fingers dive into his eye socket with a brutality that makes her stop inhaling all together. Instead, she screams into my palm, struggling against me, but I hold onto her tight, blood squirting from his eye as I try to dig further inside, attempting to get a good grasp to wrench it out.

Just as I yank it free, she strikes, her fist plunging toward me with cruel accuracy and smashing into my balls. A sickening groan escapes my throat as the pain sears through me. My hold loosens, just enough for her to wriggle free. I collapse to my knees, clutching my nuts, my vision blurring at the edges. From the corner of my eye, I watch her flee, her footsteps heavy with desperation as she bolts out the door, the faint scent of her fear still lingering in the air.

I wait for the pain to ebb away and when it finally starts to dull, a twisted smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. I rise slowly, eyes shifting to the gruesome sight before me. The eyeball, still fresh and glistening in the blood-soaked ground. I scoop it up, holding it in my hand like a fucking trophy before shoving it into my pocket.