Page 69 of Cyber Revenge

Ididn’t remember the blood until I felt it cooling between my thighs.

Sticky. Warm. Mixed with his cum.

The ache in my core pulses with every step Trip takes, but I don’t say a word. I can’t. My throat is raw, lips cracked from screaming and begging and gasping for him. My body hangs limp in his arms, too spent to move, but my fingers cling to the front of his jacket like instinct.

Patrick is still screaming behind us. The sound grows fainter the further we walk. Muffled by the weight of blood and concrete and whatever Trip has done to him.

I should be afraid. But I’m not.. I’ve never felt safer.

My head drops against Trip’s shoulder, cheek resting against the warmth of his skin. He smells like fire, sweat, and smoke. Like sex. Like blood. Like mine.

I can’t stop shaking. Not from the cold. From everything else.

Adrenaline still courses through me in jagged waves, my heartbeat thudding hard against my ribs. I’m floating inside my own body, disconnected and high, every nerve still singing from what he’s done to me. What I let him do.

God, I want more. His cock. His hands. His mouth.

The sting of his bite is still fresh on my throat, blood dried in a tacky smear down my collarbone. I can feel the throb of the wound, his teeth still embedded in my memory.

And inside me…the deep soreness from the way he fucked me. Relentless. Unapologetic.

His.

Trip doesn’t say a word as he carries me through the dark halls of the factory. The only sounds are our footsteps, the way my breath hitches when he adjusts his grip, the far-off drip of water echoing from cracked walls.

His arms are tight around me–tootight, but I don’t protest. I don’t want space. I don’t want comfort.

I want him to carry me forever. Because if he puts me down, I might break apart.

The jacket he wrapped around me is far too big, swallowing me whole, but I grip it tighter like armor. It smells like him. I burymy face into the collar, breathing him in, letting the scent crawl down my lungs and settle into my blood.

I can still feel his cum leaking out of me. Warm, wet trails down my thighs. Every step he takes jostles it, and I clench involuntarily.

Fucking hell.

I’ve never come like that; it was different. I’ve never bled and begged and shattered all at the same time. And now, I don’t know where I end and he begins.

My wrists burn with every shift of pressure. The ropes had bitten deep. I can feel the raw skin, the swelling. My shoulders throb from pulling too long in unnatural positions. My nipples ache from the friction against my tank top–sweat and blood and sex all drying together.

But none of it matters.

Not the sting. Not the bruises. Not the ugly thoughts still slithering in the back of my skull.

Because Trip came for me. And then he ruined me.

And I want more.

The night air hits us like ice the second we leave the factory. I suck in a sharp breath, and for the first time, my body reacts. My legs twitch. My eyes sting. The cold shocks something back into place inside me.

Reality.

It tries to crawl in. But I don’t let it. I just hold him tighter.

Trip’s steps don’t slow. His grip doesn’t loosen. His heart thuds behind his ribs, fast and hard, matching mine like a war drum.

The longer he holds me, the more it settles in. What he’s done. He’d found me. Tracked me.BrandedPatrick with my pain.

LIAR