Chapter Eleven

Raven

After what felt like an eternity of him showing me just how dominant he really is—and how stupid I’d been to underestimate him—I lie on my back, utterly ruined. My body is a mess of sensations: every muscle trembling, my skin slick with sweat, my chest rising and falling.

Ty reaches up, his fingers brushing against my wrists as he finally unlocks the cuffs. My arms drop to my sides, muscles aching as they flop onto the pillow like a marionette with its strings severed.

My eyes flutter shut, but the feel of him settling beside me makes them drift open again. The dark ceiling above me is a blur, the spinning of the room matching the commotion still ringing in my head.

Holy fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing—knows how to make me come apart me piece by piece. But how? How did he utterly destroy me with nothing but his tongue and his fingers, leaving me gasping like a woman on the brink of psychosis?

If Ty wasn’t my forbidden, psychopathic patient, my captor, I feel like I might blurt out something utterly insane—like asking him to fucking marry me right here so I could feel his type of ecstasy forever.

I turn onto my side, tucking my hands beneath my cheek as I stare at him. He’s lying on his back, silent, his eyes fixed on the darkness above us. There’s something in his calmness that terrifies me; it’s the kind of calm that speaks louder than words, as if the demons in his head are louder than anything in the room. My gaze drifts over his scarred body—still damp with sweat, muscles taut even when he’s relaxed.

My mind drifts to how he walked into that bathroom tonight. Covered head to toe in blood. He’s done it again, hasn’t he? Someone else is dead. And the worst part? The thought doesn’t fill me with fear. It fills me with... conflict. He ravages me like I’m made for him, possesses my body and mind as if he owns them both. And yet, he’s everything I shouldn’t want, everything I should run from. A killer. A nightmare. But still, I find myself screaming for him in every way that matters.

“Ty? Can I ask you something about how you came back here tonight?”

His silence is a wall, impenetrable, and I see the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. He doesn’t answer, but I can’t seem to stop myself from pressing on.

“Why do you do it? All those years in SHA...” I pause, my heart hammering in my chest as his dark gaze flicks to mine. “Did you learn nothing from everything you have been through?”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, then he turns onto his side. He lowers himself onto my pillow again, his face so close that his nose touches mine. His brown eyes burn into me, dragging me under, and I feel the question die in my throat.

“All I learned was how to be a better liar, Kitten. How to blend in just enough to keep them off my back. That place wasn’t about helping me; it was about control, about proving they could break me the fuck down and fit me in some perfect fucking bubble,” I search his eyes, listening intently as he carries on. “They put me in that sterile hellhole and prodded me, studied me, like some fucking science experiment. Like they could fix what they didn’t understand. But all they did was teach me how to wear a mask and fool every single one of them.”

My brows knit, confusion swirling in my mind. “What?”

“I was always a kid in a greedy man’s world, Raven,” he murmurs. “Even when I kept my mouth shut, they still threw the insanity book at me. Said I needed help. There had to be an excuse. So they dumped me in an asylum, a kid among killer men. They didn’t care what I’d done. All they saw was another piece in their game, another way to feed the system.”

He looks deep into my eyes, almost distant. “You think that was a mistake? That a kid should’ve ended up with those men?” His words are now soft and calm for someone who has so much bitterness inside him.

“They tried to force me to admit to things I never felt, never thought, but they forgot one thing. You put a child in a pit with wolves, he learns to bite back. You can’t manipulate someone who has learned from the most skilled manipulators.”

I peer into his eyes, the truth settling over me like a storm. “You lied your way through that system… for fifteen years? Just to get out?” I shake my head, disbelief thick in my tone. “But that’s impossible, it’s…”

“Look at me, Kitten.” His voice cuts through my words, sharp and cold. “Do I look like I’m fucking ‘fixed’ to you?”

“But… don’t you want help? Don’t you think you need it?”

“The only people who need help—or even deserve death—are the ones who create monsters like me. The people who walk free, who hide behind their masks while making someone else the villain. Why am I the problem when they walk among the innocent like they belong there?”

He leans closer, his forehead pressing against mine, our breaths mingling, and for a moment, I feel the weight of his words settle deep into my chest.

“This,” he murmurs, “is what pain created, what cruelty made.” He pauses, his eyes dark and intense as they scan mine. “You’re looking at the result of suffering, Raven. I’m what remains when all the light is stripped away.”

A chill runs through me, his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. I want to look away, but his gaze holds me captive, daring me to understand him, to see the truth of what he is—of what he’s become. Is this to do with his sister dying? Is that what made him switch? None of this makes sense. He’s talking in riddles. But also, why didn’t Dr Moss mention his sister going missing?

“What are you trying to tell me, Ty?” I ask, my voice soft, feeling desperate for answers.

His gaze lowers, dipping just enough for me to catch the vulnerability hiding in the shadows of his lashes as they fan over his sharp cheekbones. In that moment, something inside me aches—a strange urge to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, but I know it’s a dangerous desire. Because just as much as I want to soothe the cracks in him, I also want to tear them wider. I want to peel back his flesh and see what gnaws beneath the insanity, to understand what it is that makes him this way.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ty,” I murmur quietly, as if speaking too loudly might spook the beast in front of me. “We’re not in SHA. I’m not your therapist anymore. It’s just me and you.”

His eyes lift, his gaze steering back to mine. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares, but when I open my mouth, about to probe him again, the pad of his thumb sweeps gently across my bottom lip, the gesture so intimate it makes my heart race. His dark eyes follow the movement, then his hand shifts, his fingers brushing through my red hair, tucking it gently behind my ear.

“Don’t worry, freckles,” he murmurs, his tone low and dripping with something that feels like both a promise and a warning. “In time, you’ll see everything for what it is. It’s nothing I can say. You have to see it to understand.”

His words wrap around me like a silk noose, soft but choking. They don’t make me feel safe—they worry me, because I don’t know what “everything” is, and with him, I’m fucking terrified to find out.

“But just know,” he breathes the whisper against my lips, “Darkness is where I belong. Where I find peace—until now, when you swarm my twisted thoughts, kitten. But never mistake my obsession with you as a weakness. I’ll drown you in my fucking shadows if it means keep you to myself.” I gaze into his dark eye as he continues. “It’s us, ‘Til Def. You’re carved into my black soul, and nothing will ever tear you out.”

I can’t look away and I don’t, stunned by his words. He’s a beautiful combination of chaos and peace all at once, and I’m starting to realize that I’m caught somewhere in the middle of his mayhem.

…

The fire crackles softly, its flickering light dancing across the room as I sit huddled close, my hoodie pulled low over my head. Dawn bleeds faintly through the edges of the wood covered windows, but the warmth of the fire is all I can feel. My mind is a storm, swirling with questions I don’t want to answer. What do I do next? Do I stay and try to make sense of him, to piece him back together?

There’s a part of me—small but insistent—that wants to try. His heart is cold, encased in layers of ice and shadows, and I can’t help but feel an ache to melt it. To fill it with something real. Something...human. But the other part of me, the part still tethered to survival, screams at me to run. To take the first chance I get and not look back. He isn’t my responsibility.

And yet, here I am. Stuck. Trapped.

He’s locked me in here, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. How long can he keep this up? Days? Weeks? Until his guard slips and I find my moment? Until he’s caught or even dead? My freedom feels so close and yet impossibly far.

I wrap my arms around myself, my heart heavy with contradiction. Ty isn’t entirely bad. I’ve seen flashes of something else beneath the mayhem. He’s broken, a man with pieces scattered too far to put back together. But even as I cling to that hope, I can’t ignore the truth: he’s sinister. A slayer cloaked in a hoodie. A killer with no remorse.

My hands tremble as I stare down at them, my fingers curled tightly into my palms. A jittery exhale escapes me, and I shake my head, trying to push back the thoughts clawing at my mind.

How can I sense goodness in a soul so dark? How can I let myself believe there’s something worth saving when I’ve already seen the depths of his violence?

The fire hisses again, the heat creeping up my legs, but it doesn’t reach my heart. That remains heavy and cold, locked in its own war. When I hear a noise outside, my head turns, and I look at the window. I gently stand and walk toward it. When close enough, I peer through the planks of wood, spotting him outside, shirtless, not bothered that it’s winter.

He’s chopping wood. His muscles ripple with every swing of the axe, each scar and muscle moving in harmony as the blade smashes down into the wood with such force, I feel my toes curl. I watch carefully, mesmerized, a strange heat rising inside me despite the chill.

Midnight prowls in overgrowth nearby, sniffing lazily at the frost-laden grass but never too far away from him. She lingers by his side like she’s been bewitched, caught in the same pull that seems to drag me toward him.

When he finishes, he leans down, scooping the split logs into his arms with an effortless power. The axe swings easily at his side, glinting menacingly in the dull sunlight. His voice breaks the quiet as he calls out to her, a low, commanding sound. Midnight perks up immediately, trotting after him like a shadow as he strides back toward the house.

I swallow hard, wrapping my arms around myself as my gaze sweeps over the dense, shadowed woods stretching behind the mansion.

“All I need to do is get to my car,” I whisper, as if saying it louder might break the fragile rope of hope holding me together. “I need to get out of here before I stupidly fall for him.”

The creak of the door unlocking behind me makes my entire body go rigid. When it swings open, I hear his footsteps pause. He sees me; I can feel the weight of his gaze pressing into my back. Still, I don’t turn. My fingers dig into my sides as I force myself to stay still, my heart hammering in my chest.

He steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him. His boots are loud against the wooden floor, each step closing the space between us. It’s deliberate, almost taunting, until I can feel his presence looming behind me,

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “I was supposed to leave for work by now, Ty.” My words are sharp, meant to cut, to remind him that there’s a world outside of this. Outside of him.

He doesn’t seem bothered, doesn’t even react and the silence stretches until I finally look away.

“It looks like someone will be wondering where I am after all,” I add, hoping to shake him, to find a crack in his composure.

“Not necessarily,” he finally says, his voice low and smooth.

My brows knit together, confusion quickly giving way to dread.

“I emailed them on your behalf,” he continues, his tone casually annoying. “Said you were in an accident. That you won’t be able to continue your training.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and my heart hurts. My vision blurs as tears sting my eyes, but I force them back, my lips pressing into a thin line. My posture wavers for just a moment before the fury builds, hot and overwhelming.

“You did what?” I grit, the words trembling on the edge of a scream.

He doesn’t answer, his silence heavy, almost smug, like he’s daring me to confront him. I clench my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I fight the urge to turn and meet his gaze. He knows exactly what he’s done.

“I fucking hate you,” I spit, each word laced with venom. My chest heaves as the wrath burns hotter, wild and unrestrained. “I’ll never be with you the way you want me to be.”

I spin around, facing him head-on, and jab my finger into the hard plane of his chest, my glare sharp. “I’d rather fucking kill myself than stay here with you, living this twisted, deranged version of life you’ve created. I’ll run before you can even fucking catch me.”

His jaw tightens, the muscle there ticking with irritation, his dark eyes flashing with something unspoken, something dangerous, but he doesn’t explode. Not yet. He stands there, taut and controlled, like he’s giving me space to throw every ounce of my anger at him. Like he’s inviting it.

“You’re living in some fucked-up lala land,” I seethe, my voice trembling with unshed tears. “You think you can just keep a woman captive, break her down, pleasure her like a damn puppet, and she’ll fall in love with you? You’re insane!”

The words come out sharper, louder, tearing through the suffocating silence between us and my throat burns as I say them, my teary eyes narrowing, locking onto his.

“I could never—NEVER fall in love with a monster who doesn’t even have it in him to love me back!” My tone cracks, the rage spilling out like poison. “You’re fucking dead inside. You’re...”

I shake my head, disgust warping my face and that’s when it happens. I see it. The hurt flashing through his eyes before he snaps.

Before I can blink, his hand shoots up, clamping around my jaw like a vice. He slams my head back against the wood with enough force to shock me, and I wince, pain radiating through my skull. My hand rises instinctively, aiming to smack him, but he catches my wrist mid-air and with one swift motion, he pins it to the window, his hard body pressing me into place, caging me.

“Stop,” I hiss, but it’s hushed by his hold, my body squirming under his power.

His dark, wide eyes search mine, their depths unreadable yet terrifying.

“Are you finished tearing more holes into me?” he asks, his tone ridiculously calm. “Like I don’t have e-fucking-nough of them already?”

Tears blur my vision until I finally let them fall, silent streaks sliding down my cheeks, but they don’t soften him. His fingers tighten around my jaw, dragging my face up to meet his.

“Don’t you fucking look away from me,” he growls, slamming my head back against the wood again—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me snap to attention, my eyes flying open to meet his.

“Now,” he says with a low, guttural rumble, “listen to me very, very carefully, beautiful girl.”

His tone alone makes my stomach churn, my body trembling beneath his unrelenting hold.

“Ever run from me, and I’ll make sure you never forget it—I’ll make sure you never stop feeling it.”

The promise in his words sends a shiver down my spine.

“This is your fucking warning, Kitten. When they run from me, I get a rush to spill their blood. But with you? I’d go feral just to taste every drop of your fear. And trust me, the latter is far fucking deadlier.”

I stare into his eyes, and what I see there steals the breath from my lungs. There’s no bluff, no emptiness to his threat. A sob escapes me as he unexpectedly releases me, and I lower my head. He turns, ready to leave again and I lift my wet eyes. His hand grips the door handle, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on, but the bitterness in my voice cuts through it like a blade.

“I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, psycho boy,” I sneer, venom dripping from every word. “You wouldn’t want to meet your own fate with that axe, would you?”

He freezes mid-motion, his hold tightening on the handle. Slowly, he side-eyes me, the hint of a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. It’s unsettling, the kind of laugh that coils around your spine and squeezes. He shakes his head slightly with amused disbelief.

“I always have my eyes open, freckles,” he says with a dangerous blend of dark humour and malice.

He turns his head just enough for our gazes to lock. “Watching you sleep,” he continues with a brow lift, “imagining how my axe would look buried deep inside your asshole while I fucked that brat mouth of yours. I wonder how you’ll walk the next day after I rearrange your fucking guts.”

The casual way he says it makes my stomach burn, the images hitting me like a smack. And then, as quickly as the smirk flickered on his lips, his expression hardens, his eyes trailing down my front with hunger.

Without another word, he yanks the door open and steps through, slamming it shut behind him with a force that rattles the old walls. The sound jolts me, and I close my eyes trying to regain my composure.

“Prick,” I mutter, reopening my eyes and wiping my nose with my sleeve.

I start to pace around the room mindlessly, my thoughts spiraling out of control, a panic attacking coming on, leaving me dizzy. My body is tense, every nerve lit like a live wire until after a moment, I stop dead in my tracks, my gaze snapping to the door.

I move toward it, every step of my bare feet quiet. My trembling hand rises, resting on the cold metal handle. Doubt creeps in for a second, his warning echoing in my ears, but I push it away, biting my lip as I press the handle.

And it clicks.

My eyes expand as I pull the door open cautiously, peering into the dimly lit hallway and the sound of running water echoes faintly—he’s in the bathroom. This is the perfect chance.

Slipping through the doorway, I tiptoe, my movements painstakingly careful. My heart pounds so loudly I’m terrified he’ll hear it, even over the water. When I make it to the top of the staircase, I pause and glance around, thinking about Midnight.

Where is she?

I start to whisper her name, but there’s no jingle, no soft meow in response. My chest knots, and I hesitate, torn between searching for her or making my escape and coming back for her with help.

Then, the bathroom door unexpectedly unlocks and panic floods my veins causing me to fly down the stairs without any more waiting around.

“Kitten!” His angry shout slices through the silence like a whip, clearing spotting me.

My breath comes out ragged as I reach the bottom, my hands grabbing desperately at the front door. I yank it hard, but it doesn’t budge. It’s fucking locked.

I whip around to look for another way out, but my blood runs cold. He’s standing at the top of the grand staircase, staring right at me. Soaked. Completely naked. His muscles glisten in the low light, and in one hand, gleaming and deadly, is his axe. His stare is dark and fatal, a warning for me to stay put, but as soon as he starts to descend gradually and menacingly, survival kicks in yet again.

I dart to the right, down a long hallway, my only thought to get as far away from him as possible. The hallway opens into a huge living room, and my eyes lock onto a window across the room. I sprint for it, slamming my palms against the newspaper covered glass, trying to shove it open, but it won’t move. The sound of his footsteps grows closer, unhurried but relentless.

Desperate, I grab a solid ornament from a nearby cabinet and hurl it at the window with all my strength. The glass explodes outward, shards flying in every direction. Without hesitation, I leap for the opening, grabbing the edge to haul myself through.

The jagged glass rips into my hands, slicing deep and I scream, the pain searing, but I don’t stop. I drag my body through the shattered frame, the shards tearing at my arms and legs. My skin burns as blood flows freely, staining the cold pavement outside before I hit the ground with a hard thump, the impact jarring, but adrenaline forces me to get to my feet.

My legs shake as I take off, sprinting across the yard, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. Just as I make it to the edge of the woods, I glance back, seeing him calmly unlocking the backdoor, and a new kind of terror sets in as he steps out, still naked, ready to pursue me with that axe.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s out of his damn mind!

I sprint through the woods, the icy air burning my lungs. The rough, uneven ground tears into my bare feet, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Darkness starts to surround me, the dense forest offering hardly any light and no hint of an escape, just an endless maze of skeletal trees.

I zigzag wildly, hoping to confuse him, taking sharp turns and doubling back, but I know I’m leaving a trail—my blood dripping steadily onto the frozen leaves like breadcrumbs for a hunter.

My heart pounds like a relentless rhythm of fear, but I don’t dare glance back. I don’t want to know how close he is, don’t want to see his shadow weaving through the trees, inescapable.

The faint rumble of an engine pierces the silence, a beacon of hope. My ears perk up, and I push myself harder, crashing through the underbrush toward the sound until the forest breaks open to reveal an isolated, rocky, uneven road.

There it is—a rusty red truck moving along the path. Without thinking, I leap onto the road, waving my arms frantically.

“Stop!”

The truck screeches to a halt, the tires skidding slightly on the gravel. My hands slam against the warm hood, and I take a moment to gather myself, my body trembling as I drag myself around to the passenger side.

The window is down, and a man sits behind the wheel—a middle-aged stranger with weathered features. His wide eyes scan my battered, bloodied frame, his confusion quickly morphing into concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning slightly toward the open window.

I shake my head violently, gasping for air, my words tumbling out in a ragged plea. “Please... please get me out of here. Now.”

His hesitation lasts only a second before he nods, his hand gesturing toward the seat. “Get in.”

I yank the creaky door open and fling myself into the passenger seat. The truck smells faintly of old leather and tobacco, but it feels like sanctuary compared to the nightmare I’m fleeing. The moment the door shuts, I twist my head back, staring into the darkness of the woods. Is he back there, watching, waiting?

The man clears his throat, his hand tightening on the wheel. “Who are you running from?”

I don’t answer, my teary eyes locked on the forest, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Just drive,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice breaking. “Please... just drive.”

And he does. The truck jolts forward faster, its engine growling as we start to leave the woods behind and for the first time in what feels like days, I feel my body relax.

But then, my heart skips a beat as soon as a figure suddenly emerges from the trees, blocking the road ahead.

Ty. Oh god. No.

My stomach drops as he stands there, naked, feet planted, like a fucking immovable force of nature. The driver slams on the brakes, the tires shrieking against the gravel as the truck jerks to a halt mere feet from Ty.

My body stiffens again, terrified that the distance between us is far too short. Ty steps closer, his movements calm, measured, his eyes never leaving mine.

He looks like a fucking monster. His bare chest rises and falls. His skin is drenched in cold sweat, his wild hair plastered to his forehead, but it’s his eyes that scare me the most—insane, unhinged, and fixed.

The man behind the wheel mutters something I can’t hear, but I don’t care. I don’t even know what’s fucking happening anymore.

I only know one thing. He’s not letting me go. He’s not going to let me escape him. He gives no fucks about any consequence.

Without warning, something dark flickers in Ty’s eyes, a wild glint that sends a chill down my spine. With a loud roar, he lifts the axe high above his head with both hands, muscles straining as he gathers every ounce of rage into the swing.

The blade twists through the air as he lets go, a blur of steel before it slams into the windshield with a deafening crack until it buries itself into the face of the man standing beside me with a sickening, wet crunch.

A petrified scream rips from my throat, pure terror flooding my veins as his blood bursts from the wound, splattering across my face in a hot, sticky spray. My body trembles uncontrollably as the air around me thickens with the stench of death.

I don’t have a second to think. My body reacts before my mind can catch up. With a frantic shove, I throw the door open, stumbling out into the cold and my legs tremble violently beneath me while I stagger back into the woods.

I keep running, my feet stumbling over the forest floor as exhaustion pulls at every muscle in my body. I need to keep going. Just a little further—if I can somehow make it to the graveyard, I’ll know where I am. I glance behind me, but he’s not there. Relief and suspicion war in my mind, but my frantic pace slows until my legs can barely hold me.

Then, the soft, babbling sound of a stream reaches my ears. My steps are unsteady as I stumble toward it, my blurred vision locking onto the shimmering water. Finally, I collapse at the edge, dropping to my knees. With shaking hands, I cup the icy water, lifting it to my parched lips, the coolness soothing my throat.

As I catch my breath, I notice a dark recess to my right—a small, cave-like hollow tucked beneath the earth. Crawling on my hands and knees, I drag my battered body into the shelter, my movements clumsy. When I’m finally tucked beneath the overhang, the world outside feels miles away, and my body gradually unwinds.

I curl into myself, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my chin on them. The thought of waiting here, letting the darkness shield me, feels safer than facing the horror outside.

I sit there, time dragging as I listen to every creak, crackle, and distant echo. The silence grows until my fear starts to morph into something bolder. I convince myself that he’s gone—for now.

Gently, I peek out. Quiet.

Cautiously, I sneak out of the hole, rising unsteadily to my feet. My body aches with every move, but I force myself to stand tall, brushing dirt and damp leaves off my torn hoodie. Then it happens—a single, sharp crack behind me and every muscle in my body freezes.

I feel him before I even see him, his dark presence wrapping around me like cold chains.

“Gonna run from me again, kitten?” His calm voice snakes through the quietness.

I turn, wide-eyed, my stomach dropping like a stone as I see him standing above my hiding spot, perched on the ledge. He’s massive, looming frame, and I wonder with sick dread how long he’s been standing there, silently watching me. His eyes gleam with a mix of delight and menace and as soon as he inches forward, I stumble back.

He suddenly jumps down, landing with a solid thud that reverberates through the forest floor, and I spin on my heel, running for my life, raw panic fuelling my legs as I dart through the trees.

Finally, I skid to a stop, pressing myself against the thick bark of a massive tree. I draw in gulps of air until I slap my unsteady hands over my mouth, trying to stifle the sound. I peek around the trunk, scanning the area, but there’s nothing.

My fingers dig into the rough bark for support as my knees bend, attempting to sit down, until suddenly, movement and a flash of silver.

Before I can scream, the axe swings out of nowhere, the blade slamming into the tree inches from my neck. My shriek pierces the air as the handle presses tightly across my throat, pinning me back against the trunk. I claw at it with weak, trembling fingers, trying to push it away, but the blade is buried too deep, and my strength is almost gone.

I stiffen when he rounds the tree—his naked body glistening faintly with sweat and dirt, muscles carved to perfection every inch of him screaming power. My gaze flickers downward involuntarily, catching on the sight of his cock, heavy and unapologetically hard at my face level.

He got off on the chase just like he said. Fuck. That’s me done for.

My breath falters, shame pooling in my gut as my focus lingers on his dick for a heartbeat too long. Finally, my eyes snap upward, locking onto his with a mix of defiance and fear.

His face is a perfect mask of control, but his eyes burn with a greedy hunger that rips through me. I try to composure myself, forcing my features into a blank canvas, but my trembling limbs and the tears carving paths through the grime and blood on my cheeks betray me.

He watches me silently for a moment, his towering form still as a hunter assessing its wounded victim. Then, slowly, he begins to crouch, his movements calm, until his face is level with mine. His sharp gaze wanders over me, taking in every cut, every smear of blood, stripping me bare despite the layers of dirt and torn fabric clinging to me.

“You know what happens now, don’t you, beautiful girl?” His voice is soft, almost tender, but it carries a weight that crushes any hope of escape.

“Yes,” I whisper, the surrender trembling on my lips.

“Good,” he breathes, his eyes darkening as they flicker down to my mouth as he reaches out, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

“Just remember, Kitten,” he continues, “even if I shatter you, I’ll be the one to pick up every fucking piece and put you back together again. Every fracture, every mark—crafted by me, rebuilt by me, owned by my touch.”

His thumb sweeps across my lips now, the gesture gently as if he’s thinking about claiming my mouth and everything else, piece by agonizing piece. “Don’t ever forget that while you’re being broken.”

His thumb presses against my lips, the rough pad coaxing them apart as if testing my resistance—or relishing my obedience. The motion is intrusive, yet I can’t stop my mouth from parting and the moment it slides past my teeth, gliding across my tongue, my lips close instinctively around it with a suck. His pupils dilate as he carefully watches how my lips roll over his skin as he pushes in deeper. A growl escapes him, starved and possessive, as he pulls it out with a wet pop.

Without a word, he rises, towering over me, and my eyes stay fixed forward—still pinned to the tree—until his rock-hard cock enters my view and my mouth waters involuntarily. His hand tangles in my wet hair, twisting it at the roots and yanking my head back sharply until I meet his stare above me.

His other hand moves, wrapping tightly around his dick, stroking himself as his breathing grows heavily. He edges closer until the slick; swollen tip grazes my lips.

I hesitate, a small fight between defiance and submission, but then, I part my lips and the moment he senses my consent, he thrusts forward, shoving himself inside in one brutal motion like he can’t wait any longer. The intrusion is sudden, driving to the back of my throat, making my eyes go wide as I gag, my body betraying its limits while his other hand clutches my hair, holding me there.

My fingers wrap around the axe handle as if preparing myself, my legs remaining awkwardly bent, trembling beneath me. He starts sliding in and out, his gaze locked on me, devouring the sight of my mouth stretched to the absolute limit around his big cock, the way I take him deeper each time, my suction intensifying. My tongue moves instinctively now, betraying me, enjoying the taste of him far too much.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, strained, as if barely holding himself together, the words a growl, slipping through clenched teeth. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

I can feel it—him. The pulse, the way he thickens, swelling against my tongue with each passing second, every shallow thrust. His control is breaking, thread by thread until it’s gone completely.

His fingers clench, holding onto my hair more tightly, and before I know it, he’s skull-fucking me. My head bangs against the bark continuously, and I have to force it back, but it makes it worse; I’m stuck, and his cock rams down my throat, past my tonsils, slamming into my windpipe, which causes my stomach to wrench. My eyes start to stream, dots forming at the edges as my mouth fills with saliva, soaking his dick and dripping down my chin.

I can’t fucking breathe, I’m gonna pass out.

He’s ruthless. It’s as if he wants to choke me to death. His grunts above me tell me he’s enjoying every second of my discomfort, his insanity slipping through the calm control he usually has. He’s letting me see exactly who he will be as soon as he starts fucking.

Suddenly he pulls out, and I draw in a huge gulp of air into my deprived lungs, my entire being shaken from the brutality he just delivered on my throat and skull. He wraps his hand around the axe, ripping it from the tree, and I flinch as wood splits close to my ear. I fall to my knees instantly, my head bowed, trying to pull oxygen into my deprived lungs.

When I lift my head, I watch through blurred vision as he smashes the blade down into the hard mud, burying it deep into the earth, making it sturdy.

He storms over me, full of sexual frustration, and wraps his arm over my middle from behind before lifting me easily as if I’m the lightest thing to carry. He takes me over to the axe, dropping me on my hands and knees, manhandling me in the position he desires. He falls to his knees in front of me, snatching his solid dick, and guides himself to my lips again. I part them, and he shoves himself back into my throat, one hand tightening in my hair as I gag.

Through blurry, teary eyes, I glance up just as he spits into his fingers. His other hand untangles itself from my hair, only to come crashing down on my asscheek with a sharp crack. The sting blooms hot across my skin, and a muffled squeak escapes against the length of his cock, but before I can fully process the pain, his hand grabs me again, yanking one cheek aside with force.

His slick fingers press against my asshole, the wet heat of them circling before one slip inside. My eyes flutter closed, the forbidden intrusion sending a sinful pleasure I’m starting to love. His finger moves roughly, without hesitation, curling and swirling deep as if wanting to tear it the fuck apart. A low moan vibrates against him, my legs trembling under the ruthless assault, until he rips it out.

Both of my cheeks are spread wide now, stretched open under his hands, and as his cock drives mercilessly to the back of my throat, he forces me backward. That’s when I feel it—thick, cold, pressing firmly against my wet, puckered hole.

My eyes snap open and shoot up to him. He stares down at me, his gaze full of dark desire.

“You’re gonna take my axe up your tight ass and break yourself from the inside out while fuck your throat,” he grits out the order, but he gives me little choice.

He continues to push me back until it’s entering me, sliding down my walls. My eyes clamp shut, a whimper escaping me, the sensation painful and odd as I’m widened.

“That’s my good girl,” he shudders out with satisfaction. “More.”

He keeps his dick lodged in my throat, making me choke until I can’t take any more of the handle, fully immersed. He leans back a bit, allowing me to breathe, then his fingers dig into my spread asscheeks, dragging my walls up the handle before pressing me back down, making me that another inch deeper. I moan; I can’t help it.

The more I get used to it, the better it feels, and every time he pulls me up the grip, my lips slide down his length. Soon, we’re both in a wild rhythm and my moaning throat thrusts down onto him almost aggressively while I eagerly and willingly destroy my ass with his axe, fucking myself. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling at the scalp as he asserts control of my mouth.

He holds me in place before fucking my throat again, relentless and untamed. I dig my fingers into the soiled earth; my screams turning hysterical, the axe getting deeper with each plunge downward, easily slipping in and out. My legs start to shake, come streaming out of my pussy and pooling beneath me.

He yanks my hair back, then swipes it away from my face to see me better before cupping my cheeks, watching his cock being swallowed by my mouth.

“Not so pure now, are you therapist? How does it feel to get your throat fucked by your psychopathic patient in the woods while your virgin asshole is violated with his murder weapon? Slutty fucking kitten.” He bites out with a beastly snarl, his feral eyes scanning my face.

“I’m going to claim and viciously wreck that messy pussy after I paint your throat with my cum, then I’m moving on to finish in that stretched-out asshole.”

His filthy, degrading words have me reeling for release, my core painfully pulsing. When he lodges himself into the back of my throat, he holds me there, suffocating me as his cock swells, releasing his hot cum. I’m forced to swallow every drop, the thick fluid making my throat gurgle as I fight to stay conscious.

When he’s finally finished, he withdraws and my head lowers as I cough, my movements stopping all together. He stands, moving behind me, then crouches, grabbing my cheeks and pushing me forward. The forceful motion makes my weak arms give way, my face planting into the mud as the axe handle rips out of my ass.

He wastes no time; his long tongue plunges straight inside my open, pulsing hole, giving no fucks. A loud, shameful moan leaves my body, the feeling oddly soothing after I was destroyed by the axe. He buries as deep as he can get, tasting and swirling as he splits my cheeks wider. I greedily reach back, grabbing his hair roughly, pulling him further inside, encouraging him not to stop.

His fingers dive into my soaked pussy with a brutal stroke, making a scream escape me. He doesn’t wait; he finger bangs me hard and fast while sucking my asshole. His thick, lengthy digits scrape over the perfect spot over and over. I feel my come squirt out of me with each violent drive until the pressure builds so much, I combust.

A scream tears from my throat like I’m a banshee that belongs in this forest. My hand claws at the mud as I almost rip his long hair out of his head, twisting it around my fingers. My body spasms uncontrollably, but he doesn’t stop for a second; he wrecks me, pushing my orgasm to the highest peak and sending me straight to hell. Where I belong after this.

When he rips his fingers out, my come dribbles to the ground, but he stretches my pussy open with his thumbs, drinking everything he can get.

I’ve never felt anything like this. Jesus fucking Christ—that—THAT was shameful in the best way possible. He wasn’t wrong. Virgin or not, this man knows exactly what my body needs. This psychopath . That’s what it fucking needs.

When he finally withdraws, I shudder involuntarily, my muscles twitching as I try to lift myself on wobbly arms. My mind is spinning, caught somewhere between exhaustion and disbelief. Behind me, he rises calmly, his movements unhurried. His powerful arms wrap around my mid, and before I know it, he hoists me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

I hang limply, too drained to protest, my red hair falling like a curtain, swaying as he moves. He leans down, wrenching his axe from the earth, then he starts to walk, probably taking me back to the mansion to fuck me.