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I dump him inside, unceremonious, just another piece of trash to be disposed of. My heart hammers a brutal rhythm, the thrill of the hunt surging through me like a drug. I slam the boot shut, a satisfying end to the first act. Now, the real performance begins.

“Showtime,” I growl to myself, sliding back into the driver’s seat.

I pull away from the curb, the streetlights streaking by like the fading pulse of the city. In the rearview mirror, Iglimpse at my reflection—scarred throat, dark eyes, and a grin that doesn’t quite reach them.

I pull up to Matteo’s warehouse, the dirty stench of this godforsaken place mixing with the scent of gasoline and cigarette smoke. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins. I can’t fucking wait to get my hands on this bastard.

With a fierce determination and a low growl escaping my lips, I wrench open the boot and forcefully drag the Korean man out by his feet. His eyes widen in terror when they meet mine, full of malice and hatred. As I lead him towards the table, an assortment of tools glint in the dim light, promising pain and suffering. Despite his screams in his foreign tongue, I relish the sound—it’s like a sweet symphony to me.

“Let’s start with those pretty fingers of yours,” I say, smirking as I grab a pair of pliers and move towards him. The pain in his eyes only fuels me further as I rip off each finger, one by one, blood spurting and staining the concrete floor beneath us. His muffled cries for mercy do nothing but strengthen my resolve. Matteo wants a message sent, and this fucker is it.

“You never imagined this outcome when you dared to cross the Riccis, did you?” I jeer at him, relishing in the fear that radiates from his trembling body. With precise cuts, I slice off small pieces of skin from his arms and legs, savouring the sound of his agonised screams. As I meticulously sew them together into a twisted patchwork with fishing line, I can’t suppress my amusement at his pitiful state. And when I place the grotesque little cap on his head,smirking at the way the blood stains his hair, it’s as if I’ve completed a masterpiece of art.

With a wicked grin, I reach for the knife and run my fingers along its cold, sharp edge. The anticipation builds as I position it over his limp dick, ready to make my darkest fantasy a reality. As I quickly slice off his dick, crimson blood spurts out in all directions, splattering the floor with a gruesome pattern. He tries to scream but can only gurgle as I forcefully shove his severed appendage down his throat, silencing him forever. The rush of power and adrenaline courses through me as the light fades from his eyes as his dick chokes him to death, knowing that my twisted desires have been unleashed.

Fuck, that one was fun. A twisted smile spreads across my face as I laugh at the body in front of me. The thrill of the kill is still coursing through my veins, and I give one final kick to his lifeless form before dragging it back to my car. The city lights fade behind me as I speed towards a selected spot, the familiar feeling of satisfaction building in my chest. As I reach my destination, I carefully string him up in a tall tree, his mangled limbs dangling grotesquely in the wind like some macabre marionette. It’s a sick and twisted display, but it brings me a strange sense of joy.

“Let this be a warning,” I whisper before returning home to Aurora. My heart still races at the thought of what I’ve done, my dick hard in my pants.

I step into the house, quiet as a fucking shadow. Aurora’s probably fast asleep by now. I head to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and letting the water wash away theblood and grime. It’s like some twisted baptism cleansing me of the night’s sins.

I wrap a towel around my waist and enter the bedroom. The sight of her sleeping form brings me peace. She’s so beautiful and innocent. I slide into bed behind her, wrapping my arms around her. She doesn’t stir, lost in her dreams. I softly kiss the nape of her neck, feeling her warmth, and let sleep claim me.

“Hey, Felix,”Aurora says the next morning over breakfast. “My publicist asked if I’d do another signing in the city, but I said no.” I raise an eyebrow at her words, her mouth full of fucking toast.

“Really? Why not?” I ask, genuinely curious. Her book has been a hit, after all.

“Because it’s been out for eight months, and it’s time to move on,” she explains, stirring her coffee. “I have new ideas, you know? Like a story about a possessive assassin who kidnaps a woman he just met and makes her fall in love with him.”

I laugh, the sound rough and low. “I love you, too,” I tell her, the words raw and honest.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Aurora Henry

The door clicks shut, a soft echo of Felix’s departure. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and climbed into the bed that still holds his scent—a mix of cedar and blood. My laptop sits on the nightstand, a silent accuser of my procrastination. I reach for it with a sigh, the cool metal against my skin grounding me.

“Let’s see what the world wants now,” I mutter, flipping the damn thing open. My inbox is a godawful mess, a sea of unopened emails staring back at me with virtual judgement. One catches my eye, an address that doesn’t ring any bells. Probably more spam, but curiosity is a bitch.

I click it open, and there it is, just four words that manage to make my heart skip despite my better judgement—I’ll see you soon. No name, no nothing. A chill runs down my spine, but I shake it off. Probably some fan who thinks they’re being cryptic. I hit delete with more force than necessary and shove the laptop away.

“Creeps,” I grumble under my breath.

My eyelids grow heavy as the adrenaline from earlier fades. Felix’s touch lingers on my skin, a phantom caress that promises danger just as much as it does excitement. I can almost feel the weight of his hand around my throat—rough, demanding, intoxicating. But he’s not here now, and the bed feels too big, too empty without him.

“Damn you, Felix Greyson…” I whisper to the shadows, “… for making me want things I shouldn’t.”

I yawn, stretching out on the bed, feeling the pull of tired muscles. The sheets are cool against my bare legs, a stark contrast to the heat Felix always brings. I curl up, trying to chase the warmth that’s left with him and let the darkness take me. Sleep comes as a thief, stealing the tension from my limbs and pulling me under before I can fight it.

The next morning,I wake up with Felix’s arms wrapped around me, his body pressed against mine like a protective shield. I breathe in his scent, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I gently lean over and kiss his soft lips, careful not to wake him. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, and I smile before slipping out of his embrace.

Padding silently through the bedroom, I feel the need to burn off some energy, so I head to the pool to swim laps. The water is cool and invigorating, each stroke pushing my muscles to their limit. As I power through the water, I can’t help but think about how Felix has invaded every aspect of my life—my thoughts, desires, and nightmares.

When I’m done swimming, I wrap a towel around myselfand head to the kitchen, where I find Felix making breakfast. He smirks as he flips an egg, his eyes fixed on mine.

“Morning, darling,” he says, amusement lacing his voice.

“Morning,” I reply, grabbing a cup of coffee. “You know, my publicist wants me to do another book signing, but I told her no.”