Page 17

I’m yanked violently backward, my body scraping over the floor. A scream tears out of me as I’m pulled off the ground and flipped upside down, leg hoisted into the air by one of the many chains.

I dangle, swinging like fresh meat, and from the corner of my blurred, upside down vision, his feet remain still, watching me as I suspend limply.

When he crouches in front of me, his stare hooks onto mine, steady… too steady,

as if we haven’t just clawed our way through hell. His expression doesn’t shift, but a glint’s there, that shimmer of something savage behind his calm, and it shoots heat straight through me, twisting deep in my core.

My eyes drift to his shoulder. There’s a bullet still lodged there, glinting gold, surrounded by torn skin and blackened blood.

He notices where I’m looking, then calmly lifts his hand, his fingers digging straight into the wound. I watch, wide-eyed, as he twists, deeper, harder, until the metal finally rips free with a sick crack of wet muscle.

He stares at it sitting between his fingers for a second, blood dripping down his hand. Then he tosses it aside like it’s worthless. As if it meant nothing.

His head cocks to the side and his gaze doesn’t linger on my face—it lifts, gliding up the length of my body like he’s already imagining what depraved shit he’s going to put me through next.

My blood rushes to my head, ankle screaming from the pressure of the chain. And still, I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can do is wait for him to decide how far he wants to fucking go. How much he wants to dismantle me.

Everything that happens next is so quick, I barely have time to register it. He acts fast, his hands snapping out, fists curling into the hem of my hoodie before yanking it up and clean off my body in one sharp, brutal motion, leaving me half naked.

The fabric tears with a rough rip, my body jolting from the force, making the chain and me sway violently. A whimper slips past my lips before I can even bite it down.

I don’t resist. There’s no point now. No fucking point.

I provoked the monster and now he’s come out to play. I knew what I was doing—every word, every glare, every time I stood my ground when I should’ve run. This is my price to pay.

And as he stands there, eyes dark with barely-contained hunger, I know one thing for certain.

I’m never going to forget this moment between us. Not the fear. Not the ache between my legs. Not the way he makes my heart hammer in my throat and my stomach screw with something I hate admitting feels like need. Not when he’s finally snapped. And I’ve never felt more alive.

Next my pants are yanked down my legs and my eyes close, trying to calm my erratic breathing. He’s rough, so fucking rough, pulling the fabric clean off my body like they’re nothing but a problem.

As soon as he has access, he forces my free leg open, resting his forearm on my inner thigh, keeping me spread wide. His fingers curl around my wet panties, and without hesitation and in one brutal tug, he yanks them aside, revealing my pussy to him. My hands shoot out on instinct, grabbing his thighs.

I barely have any time to process how utterly exposed I am in such a degrading position, because his harsh spit lands square on my pussy, claiming it, claiming me, before his mouth follows in an instant.

A sharp wheeze leaves me as his warm, double-pierced tongue forces its way between my lips, grazing firmly over my clit before gliding up to my entrance with one long stroke. My legs shudder beneath his control, betraying me with every twitch, helpless against the way my body responds to how he feels.

As soon as he tastes me, that growl spills out of him, deep, and deranged, then he dives in like he’s lost it, tongue, mouth and even teeth, ravaging every part of my pussy with a hunger that borders on madness. There’s no rhythm, no tenderness, just feral, unrelenting greed.

I’ve never felt anything like it, his piercings, his movements, the way he’s brutal yet precise. The arousal, the fear, the twisted pleasure, it doesn’t just consume me, it wrenches me from reality and throws me into some unknown realm. A place where I don’t know if I’m trembling from ecstasy or sheer fucking terror.

The chain tears at my already wounded ankle, adding sharp pain to the overwhelming pleasure as he plunges his thick, pierced tongue deep inside my hole, swirling and flicking against my inner walls as far as he can reach.

I try to hold back my moans, stupidly, but the gasps and whimpers slip out, shameless and uncontrollable. I can feel his frustration bubbling beneath the surface, boiling hotter with every second as I deny him what he wants.

He doesn't just want sounds—he wants me fucking screaming for him, unraveling under his touch. And when I don’t give it to him fast enough, he snaps.

He suddenly forces each of his pointer fingers deep inside my ass, no mercy, no lube, just stretching me like I’m easily made for it. I bite back a cry, watery eyes squeezing shut, my body shuddering from the discomfort.

When he pulls my asshole wide open, pushing against my walls, I tense against the overwhelming sensation of pain, my nails clawing at his wet thighs. He lets out another growl from the obscene view, releasing another glob of spit straight inside me, testing the stretch span, then finally slides them out.

I gasp for air, my eyes blinking open to see the outline of his rock-solid dick in his sweats right in front of me. I almost want to bite it, give him a taste of that kind of pain.

Wrath takes a step back, and my eyes stay locked on his cock as he slowly unwraps the barbed wire from his bleeding arm until its hanging from his hand.

Then he moves behind me, slipping out of sight, and my whole-body tenses. I can’t see him anymore, but I know he’s still there, waiting to take his insanity to the next level.

Next thing I know, my arms are forced behind me before he wraps barbed wire around both of my wrists. The sharp pain shoots through me instantly, blood spilling from the fresh punctures. I wince, eyes squeezing shut, as he continues looping it over and under my breasts, winding it around my back, coiling it tighter with each pass. Staining me with a new kind of pain.

When he’s finished and I’m restrained exactly how he wants me, cocooned in spikes and chains like a dying caterpillar that’s about to bloom into a black butterfly, morphed from his darkness and pain, he takes my panties and tears them straight off me in one swift, savage motion, leaving me utterly exposed.

His hands spread me wide again, ass and pussy before he dives straight in, back to front, brutally tongue fucking my holes and leaving nothing untouched. My free leg hangs limply, muscles twitching, not know what to do with itself as he completely devours me.

He’s ravenous and cruel, but something about how he does it has me moan and panting, I can’t help but succumb to it. My disloyal body seizes, my chest tightening as he goes harder, sucking and biting on my swollen clit like he has one goal and he’s about to fucking score it.

And he’s far too skilled because it happens quick, too quick, shamefully quick, and it rushes through me like an ocean breaking through a dam. A scream tears from my throat, echoing down the tunnel, sharp and uncontained. My body locks up, trembling as the intense climax crashes over me, fierce and unstoppable.

Wrath growls in satisfaction, but even in the height of it, he offers no sympathy, no time to come down and no space to breathe.He simply spits directly on my pulsing hole, rolls two fingers in a mix of his saliva and my come before shoving them, deep and savagely, into my ass.

I cry out, the burn immediate, but he ignores the warning signs of my distress, plunging them in and out like I’ve had my ass fucked a thousand times already.

At this point I’m just a body he’s playing with. A dead body possibly in his mind. Because the way he’s treating me like I’m made for this, or like I’m gonna be made for this, is almost heartless.

Yet, it does something to my messed up mind, something untamed and I don’t think for a second to scream no. I want his destruction. I want it to hurt, and I want him to take every last piece of me.

After some time of completely demolishing my asshole, making it a little looser and wetter with spit, he drags his fingers out of me.

I can barely breathe when I hear something dragging across the floor, a low, grinding sound that scrapes against my nerves. When I force my eyes open, I see it: a thick chain, impossibly heavy, barely able to bend as it’s pulled across the wet ground. Each link is black and long, pressed so tightly together they move as one solid line.

Wrath lifts it, settling it over his shoulder, grabbing the end and that’s when I feel the coldness of it against my asshole. My eyes nearly pop out of my skull as soon as he begins pushing it inside me, forcing my walls open into an impossible stretch.

“Shit!” I scream, voice cracking as my body bucks, straining under the pressure. It’s too much metal forcing its way inside me, and Wrath doesn’t hesitate. He’s merciless, pressing in deeper, like he’s challenging how far my asshole can stretch before it breaks completely.

The chain grinds against me, slick with whatever wetness coats the ground or me. My muscles burn as they struggle, as they try and fail to hold back.

His fingers clamp down on my inner thigh, digging in hard enough to bruise, wrenching my leg wider open, silently ordering me to take it. And I realize there’s no escape, only the brutal weight of the chain and the overwhelming fullness of it.

I try to breath and relax, and when my traitorous asshole clenches around the first link, it holds onto it, nice and snug, like it’swelcomingthe depravity.

I start to think he’s done, but I’m wrong. Of course I’m wrong. He drives downward again, shoving another in, stretching me to the edge of pain and pleasure. Each link is a violation, thick and cold, forcing me wider, deeper, like he’s trying to hollow me out.

By the time the third link is buried inside me, hitting some invisible limit, I’m shaking, sweating, barely coherent and stuffed so fucking full it feels like I might die.

Wrath growls, low and pleased, his grip on my thigh easing just enough to let his fingers stroke across my scarred skin, like he’s praising me without a word.

I try to push the thoughts from my head, to block out whatever images are playing behind his red eyes, but I can feel it, helikeswhat he sees. Hereally fucking likesit.

His face dips lower and his pierced tongue flicks out, hot, wet, obscene, as he drags it around the chain, around my stretched, aching asshole. The touch makes me jolt andflutteraround the cold iron still buried deep inside me. It’s filthy, soothing and disgusting.

And I hate the way my body responds to it, the way it holds, the way it trembles, the way Ineedfucking more.

Wrath delivers a sharp spit to the area before wrapping his hand tightly around the link closest to my hole, slowly beginning to ease it out again. A gasp escapes me as it drags against my walls, but when two links are out, he plunges them back in with a hard thrust.

For what feels like an eternity, he uses the chain as his own twisted tool, violating my body in such a way that I’m forced into multiple orgasms under his savage control. He makes me scream louder and louder, each one pushing him further to losing his sanity.

He drills and buries it so deep inside me that it feels as though the links are hitting my spine, rendering me immobile, paralyzed until the pain fades and only pleasure exists.

Then, all that’s left is me, is heavy eyes, a wrecked asshole, and a body swaying limply as he continues to violate me.

As soon as my last climax crashes through me, Wrath pulls the links out of my trembling body, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. The chain on my ankle follows, but Wrath catches me before I can collapse, gently setting me down on my knees. I fall forward, face-planting into the ground, my ass naturally rising into the air.

Wrath kneels behind me, splitting my cheeks wide apart, inspecting the damage of my pulsing hole before he leans forward, taking a lick at the gaping hole, not giving a shit.

Gasps and moans escape me, no longer holding back or feeling embarrassed while he cleans up the mess he’s made, trying to relieve the wreck he’s left behind after completely destroying me.

Then, when he pulls back, I feel something else press against me again—something different. It seems to have flat surfaces, and it’s smaller.

As he slips it inside me, I shriek from the lingering pain of the chain, but he simply reaches over, buries his fist in my hair, and yanks me up on my knees.

My back collides with his front, and his hand wraps around my throat, twisting the object further inside and that’s when I think I realize what it is.

His gun. He gonna punish me with the gun I shot him with.

I side-eye him as he lowers his hand and pulls something from his sweats. It glints in the light as he brings it forward and I notice it’s one of those black ace cards he threw into that guy’s skull earlier today.

He presses it against my thigh, then swiftly slices it across without hesitation. I hiss, eyes shutting as my head drops back onto his shoulder. As the sting settles in and I feel the trickle of blood down my skin, Wrath’s fingers press into my other thigh and I glance down, heart hammering.

Ride it and kiss me.

My brows pinch as I read over the words he’s written in my blood, then I turn my head to look at him. His gaze lingers on my dry lips before locking back onto mine and they’re darker, heavier. His breathing shifts, deeper now, like he’s pushing his own boundaries just for me.

His hand finds my throat again, rough and possessive, fingers digging in as he forces me to drag up the long barrel, then slides me back down onto it, giving me little choice.

I gasp, the sound catching against his lips just as he leans in, slowly and almost hesitantly, as if he’s not sure if this is a kiss or the end of him.

As soon as his lips brush against mine, my breath hitches, and my eyes flutter shut. I reach out, my hand finding the inked skin of his neck as he tilts his head. Then, before I even realize it, his soft lips are pressed fully against mine, and everything else fades away.

Our lips part naturally, like we’ve done this so many times before. His pierced tongue slips into my mouth, immediately finding mine, the connection seamless. Our mouths move in sync, desperate, tasting each other with the kind of craving that feels endless, like we’re starving for something only the other can give.

He growls, whether in warning or enjoyment, I don’t really know, but it prompts me to start fucking the gun with my ass. His grip tightens on the handle, keeping it steady, while his other grabs my bouncing tit, squeezing it bruisingly.

I moan against his lips as he devours my mouth, riding hard and fast, until his hand drops between my thighs, fingers finding my clit and he rubs me out at the same time.

Just when I feel my climax rising and curling tight inside me, tethering on the edge, I chase it, hips shifting, breath catching, aching for that sharp, blinding release.

Ineed to feel it ripping through me while he’s kissing me like this and while I’m imagining it’s his big dick I’m riding hard, replaying the filthy images over and over in my mind.

As both of our breaths quicken, I feel his hand start to tremble around the gun, like he’s hardly holding himself together. Something shifts, I can feel something dark coiling around us, thick in the air, and it’s swelling inside of him.

My orgasm crashes through me, my asshole pulsing around his gun, my body shuddering until—

Click.

Wrath pulls the trigger.

I scream, body jolting, almost tearing the barrel out of my ass, but his hand clamps around my throat, holding me in place.

“You… You—” The words choke in my mouth, and I can’t even finish them. The realization slams into me that he could’ve shot me from the inside out.

Just like that. One moment of madness could have destroyed both of us, but somehow, and luckily, the clip was empty.

“You bastard!” I bite out quietly, eyes closed as I breath heavy with my dazed head resting against his chest.

But he simply presses gentle kisses to my shoulder and collarbone, silently apologizing.

When he slips the gun out of me, he starts to unravel the barbed wire still stuck in my body. Once I’m free, he turns me and sits me frontally on his thighs.

With my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my forehead resting on his neck, his trembling hands roam over my body, gliding across every curve, giving me time to recover from the onslaught he just unleashed on me.

As his fingers sweep my sweaty hair away from my face, he peers down at me, and when our eyes meet, something clicks. He searches mine as I search his, and for a brief, quiet moment, we just see each other.

And that’s when I understand, if we’re going to do this, we have to expect exactly what it is. I have to accept exactly what that means.

This will never be normal. It won’t be clean, easy, or soft. It’ll bethis—volatile and consuming. Toxic in a way that feels like devotion.

Dark, unhinged, and unapologetic.

A chaos we feed in each other and a craving that claws at our souls, whispering in the spaces between pain and pleasure.

It’s not lust the way the world defines it.

It’s a need—raw and aching, a pull written in marrow and blood.

A silent scream that says: I’ll ruin for you, if you ruin for me.

When I give him a subtle nod, like we’ve spoken and agreed without words, as if we’ve let our souls do the talking instead of our mouths, he leans in and presses his lips to mine, soft and lingering.

Then he lifts me, getting to his feet with me wrapped around him and he begins to take me out of the Tunnel of Blood.

…

As Wrath carries me through the pitch-black carnival, yes, completely naked, my still clothes torn and scattered in the bizarre tunnel, I rest my head on his shoulder, shivering as the cold seeps straight into my bones.

Everything is dead silent except for the distant creak of the rides swaying in the breeze as we past them. Until something catches my eye near the haunted carousel, and I lift my head slowly.

My eyes squint through the darkness, and there, between the skeletal horses, I see a figure. Just standing there. Still and staring right at me.

Their hand lifts, slow and reaching, like they’re trying to beckon me closer. My vision sharpens, and I swear it looks like a woman in a long, white dress rippling as if underwater, black hair spilling down the front of her. I can’t see her face, but I feel her eyes. Right on me.

A spike of panic tears through my chest, and my breath catches as I quickly bury my face into Wrath’s neck.

He stops as soon as he senses my fear, his body tense against mine. I force myself to look again, eyes moving to the spot where she stood.

But she’s gone. Just an empty space and bone-white horses frozen mid-gallop.

Maybe my mind’s just playing tricks on me after everything that happened tonight. Maybe I’m just tired and my bodies stressed.

I lie my head back on his shoulder again and whisper.

“It’s fine… I just thought I saw something.”

When he hears the words, he pauses a second longer before continuing forward.