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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

AURELIA

B lood crusts beneath my fingernails, flaking off in tiny crimson crescents each time I flex my hands against the leather seat. The metallic scent of it lingers inside Adrian’s car—a brutal perfume that reminds me with each breath what we’ve done tonight.

What we’ve accomplished.

DeSean Smith is gone. Another name crossed off my list. Another monster who hurt my mother was sent to the depths where he belongs.

“You’re quiet,” Adrian says, his voice like velvet in the darkness. His profile is sharp against the passing streetlights, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. Blood spatters his crisp white shirt, most of it not his.

I glance down at my own clothes. My blouse is torn at the shoulder, stained beyond salvation. “Just processing,” I answer.

The plan had been seamless because the information from that poker game led us straight to our target. DeSean’s Lake Washington hideout had good security, but even the best systems have weaknesses.

I’d played my part perfectly. The damsel with car trouble, standing helplessly at his gate. The guards had hesitated just long enough so Adrian could make his move.

The memory of what followed sends a shiver through me. Not fear but excitement.

With the front gate security gone, we slipped onto the property and found DeSean sitting on a back patio reading. We had the advantage of surprise but he hadn’t gone easily. He’d fought, screamed, bargained. But some debts can only be paid in blood.

I remember the weight of the knife in my hand. The way Adrian moved with a killer’s instincts, taking down any remaining guards who tried to interfere. Then there was the satisfaction of seeing DeSean’s shock when he realized who I was.

“Serafina’s daughter,” he’d said, recognition dawning in his eyes seconds before Adrian’s blade found his throat.

The drive to the dock had been silent and tense and both of us were exhausted.

We had five bodies to get rid of, DeSean’s and the four guards.

Adrian had a boat prepared, so we went out to a secluded area of the ocean where the bodies would be carried away by underwater currents.

They sank one by one into the dark waves with barely a ripple.

Adrian’s contacts would handle the rest—making it seem like DeSean had simply fled the country with his security to escape federal prosecution .

“Are you okay?” Adrian asks now, his eyes briefly leaving the road to search my face.

I’m surprised to find myself smiling. “Better than okay.”

He reaches over, his bloodstained fingers intertwining with mine. My heart sings. A decade together, and we’d never been this close. This honest. This real.

“You were magnificent,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “The way you handled him… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Heat blooms in my chest at his praise. With Julian, violence always felt like surrender—like giving in to something destructive. With Adrian, it feels like clarity.

Though I’m still questioning the true weight of all this revenge.

We pull into Lorenzo’s driveway, the mansion looming against the starlit sky. Adrian cuts the engine, but neither of us moves to exit the car.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles against my palm.

“That I’ve never felt so… aligned. Like all the splintered pieces of myself finally make sense.”

His eyes darken with understanding. “I know exactly what you mean.”

We slip into the house through a side entrance to avoid any late-night encounters with Lorenzo or the staff. The hallway is dimly lit as we make our way toward my room.

The adrenaline from earlier hasn’t fully gone away. It pulses through my veins, making me hyper aware of Adrian’s closeness, of the blood drying on our skin and the shared secret binding us more intimately than any vow ever could.

At my door, we both hesitate. I should be exhausted, but I feel more alive than I have in months—years, even. Adrian seems to vibrate with the same energy, his usual control replaced by something wild.

“We make a good team,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

“We always did. I just never let myself show you.”

I feel his confession as an ache in my chest. All those years wasted pretending to be something we weren’t.

“No more holding back,” I tell him.

His eyes drop to my lips, then back up. “No more holding back.”

I reach up, trailing my fingers along the dried blood on his jaw. “I never knew it could feel like this. Working together. Being honest. Seeing the real you.”

“And do you like what you see?” There’s vulnerability in the question—a hint of the boy who grew up believing he needed to hide his true self to survive.

“I love what I see. I love all of it.”

Something shifts in his expression—hunger replacing hesitation. Before I can understand the change, his lips are on mine, urgent and demanding. Heat explodes between us, his hands tangling in my hair as he pushes me into the bedroom.

We crash into a dresser, then my back slams against a wall.

I gasp into his mouth as the impact sends a jolt of pain laced with pleasure straight to my core.

Adrian’s fingers are already on my skin, yanking my blouse down over my shoulders.

Torn fabric hangs uselessly from my waist as he pulls me to him again, and I savor the feel of blood and sweat slicking between us.

I let out a low, breathless laugh at the mess we’re making, at how desperate we are for each other despite—or because of—the grime and chaos. “Animal,” I tease against his lips as he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

He bites down on my lower lip, the sting making me arch into him. “You like it.” He shoves me back against the wall with a growl, grinding his cock hard against my center. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

He’s right—god, is he right—and I can’t control the way my body responds to him.

My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt but I can’t grasp them.

I finally give up and tear the shirt open instead.

The sound of buttons scattering across the floor is drowned out by his low groan as I rake my nails down his chest.

His skin is flushed beneath smears of red; his muscles tense and alive under my touch. He’s beautiful like this—disheveled and raw, every bit as wild as I feel—and I can’t get enough of it. Enough of him.

“Don’t hold back,” I remind him. He answers with a low rumble.

His hands then find their way under my skirt, pushing it up over my hips to expose my panties.

He makes quick work of those, tearing the fabric as I fumble with his pants zipper.

His cock springs free and finally there’s nothing between us but heat and urgency.

He lowers his mouth to my neck, teeth grazing over my pulse in a way that makes me shiver and gasp his name.

“Please,” I say, not caring how desperate it sounds. I don’t care about anything except this moment and him and the fire raging through me.

He answers by thrusting into me hard enough to drive all thought from my mind—a rough claiming that feels like freedom—and I cry out at the perfect violence of it. I cling to him, nails digging into his back as he fucks me with a force that leaves me breathless.

We’re brutal together—merciless in our need—as fierce in this as we were in killing.

He pins me hard against the wall with each thrust; our breaths come ragged and unrestrained between gasps and curses.

It doesn’t take long until he has me screaming, everything inside me exploding in a wave that consumes me completely.

But his little smirk tells me he’s far from done.

He pulls out of me and sets me down on my wobbly legs. His eyes glint with unspoken command as he steps back. For a moment, I can’t help but sway, my body still humming with the aftershocks of what we’ve just done.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he says.

I don’t hesitate, stripping before him while he remains in bloody, torn slacks.

Once I’m naked, he grips the base of his cock, showing me how he’s still hard and eager to come. Showing me the mess I’ve made. “Now clean me off.”

I sink to my knees.

Adrian stands over me, powerful and unyielding. I look up at him through tangles of my red hair and smeared makeup; I see the way his jaw sets as I open my mouth to take him in .

“Fuck,” he breathes. Gratitude or greed, I can’t tell which.

I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, guiding it past my lips, letting him fill me completely. He tastes like salt and skin and the violence we’ve committed together.

He fists his hand in my hair, pushing deeper until he hits the back of my throat. Then he pushes down, cutting off my oxygen. I’m choking on him and loving every second of it.

“Take it all,” he says.

I choke around his girth, trying to breathe but not caring enough to stop. He thrusts hard and fast—unrestrained—and each motion makes my pussy throb with renewed need.

Tears spring to my eyes as he drives himself further than I think possible, hitting that point where air doesn’t matter as much as pleasure does. Where nothing matters but having every part of him inside me.

“Goddamn,” Adrian gasps above me, pulling out just long enough for me to catch a desperate breath before thrusting back in with primal force. My hands grip his thighs for balance as he fucks my mouth without mercy.

My moans vibrate against his cock; his low groan tells me how close he is. Then my own need becomes too unbearable, so I begin rubbing circles around my clit.

“Don’t,” he says once he notices. “When you come again, it’ll be around my cock.”

He pulls out quickly; I collapse forward onto trembling hands as cool air rushes over my flushed skin. My pulse pounds in my ears; my mouth still tingles from the rawness of him. But even like this—used up and breathless—I want more.

Always more with Adrian.

Without warning, he positions himself behind me as I’m on all fours. Then he’s shoving himself into my sore, aching pussy.