Page 46 of At Your Mercy

I stood in the center, robe hanging open, my skin and lingerie splattered with blood.

It should’ve been enough.

It wasn’t.

I pressed my wet palms over my face and laughed, the sound a little too high-pitched, too close to breaking.

I hated Elias. I hated these men. I hated being alive.

The bodies were cooling when the door opened.

I didn’t even flinch. I knew it would be him.

Elias strolled in, a handful of his men slipping past him with bags, gloves, and bleach. They got to work without a word, practiced and efficient, while he stopped a few feet away from me. His shoes didn’t quite crunch in the blood, but they could’ve.

“Messy,” he said finally, lips curving in something that wasn’t a smile. “But at least you look nice.”

My pulse hammered. I knew better than to answer, so I just stared back at him in silence.

He studied me before saying, “You burn hotter every time. I’m almost afraid of what you’ll become when you finally run out of fuel.”

“I won’t,” I murmured.

That earned me the faintest laugh. He stepped close enough that I could smell his cologne beneath the iron tang in the air, warm spice over rot. His hand rose like he might touch my face, and my body stiffened on instinct. But instead, he clapped me lightly on the shoulder, like a father might.

He did that sometimes—tried to replace my father.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I followed him out of the club, ignoring the curious looks at my appearance.

The car ride was quiet at first, city lights strobing across the tinted windows. My hands still smelled of copper. My body still itched with the need to destroy.

Elias broke the silence. “You’ve been wound tight lately.” His tone was low, cajoling, almost indulgent. “You know I could help you… relax. Just like old times. We used to have so much fun together.”

My gut turned to ice. Rage spiked up before I could stop it. “No.” The word tore out of me, harsh and louder than I meant, like a blade slicing the air.

He went still, head tilting just slightly toward me, that serpent’s curiosity sparking in his eyes. Suspicion. He was too good at reading me.

I forced my breathing even, tried to rein it back in. “I don’t need that,” I said, quieter this time. “I just need to work. Give me some more work, and I’ll be fine.”

The car was suffocating with silence. I waited for the punishment—for his hand, his voice, something painful, a needle against skin,something.Instead, Elias smiled thinly.

“You did well tonight, so I’ll ignore that,” he said finally, voice tight. “For now.”

Relief loosened my shoulders, but only slightly. He wasn’t letting it go. He was filing it away and keeping it, waiting for the right time to use it against me.

When the car finally stopped in front of my building, I was already halfway out the door before it rolled to a complete stop.

“Sleep well, my Ro,” Elias called after me, his voice smooth and venomous. “You’ve earned it.”

The car door shut behind me, but I still felt his gaze burning into me all the way up the stairs.

I slammed my apartment door behind me and leaned against it, my chest heaving as if I’d run a marathon instead of just climbing some steps. My fingers wouldn’t stop twitching.

The apartment was dark and silent, just the way I usually liked it. But tonight it felt suffocating.

I stumbled into the bathroom, turned the tap, and scrubbed until my hands turned raw. The water swirling down the drain looked pink at first, then clear. Even then, I still didn’t feel clean. My reflection in the mirror stared back at me like a ghost.