Page 18

Wrath

After carrying Aurelia home, I take her inside her trailer, and she slips out of my arms like my touch has burned her. The second she’s steady, she bolts into the bathroom, but not without one last look back, peeking through the crack in the door like she knows I’m still watching her.

Of course, I am. I always fucking am.

“I won’t be long,” she says, almost too calm after everything I did, then closes it behind her, not locked or slammed, just enough to tell me she wants me to stay.

My jaw tightens while, for a second, my natural instinct gnaws at me to walk out, head back to my own trailer and crawl back into the darkness where I belong, but I don’t. Something keeps me rooted. The way she looked at me. The way she didn’t tell me to leave.

I guess I need her to want me here, even if she doesn’t understand why. Even if I don’t fucking understand why.

I move down the hallway toward her bedroom, and the moment I step inside, a soft glow of her phone lighting up on the bed catches my eye. I creep closer, weaving in and out of the chains, knowing I shouldn’t look, but I can’t stop myself. The curiosity to get to know her wins.

I snatch it up as soon as I’m close, the charger dangling from the bottom, and swipe my thumb across the screen.

When it unlocks, the background hits me first and it’s her, standing in front of the sea, smiling like the broken hasn’t yet touched her yet. Black summer dress, Converse on her feet, sun in her blue eyes.

I've never seen her smile like that. Not once. And the realization turns something deep inside me.

I wonder if she’ll ever smile at me like that. Whether I can, somehow, make her… happy, or if that version of her is already gone and I was too late. Maybe I’m not even capable of doing that myself.

I shake my head, once and hard, reminding myself of who the fuck I am, what the fuck I am and how fucking hung up I suddenly am on this girl.

Then I swipe through her apps until I find the photos. She doesn’t have many. Just a few. But a handful stand out like they don’t belong there. Four guys. Around my age, maybe a little older. One of them looks like he’s pushing mid-thirties. And a matured older woman.

I don’t recognize them, but every single photo looks like it was taken from a distance, the camera zoomed all the way in. Like she took them when they didn’t know. As if she was watching.

My mind races and I start digging through the rest of her phone, fingers moving on instinct, until I find her notes. Names. Locations. Times. Dates. Plans. But they’re time long gone.

I scroll, scanning every detail, every face, burning them into my memory and locking them down before backing out of every app and tossing the phone onto the bed like I never touched it. Like I didn’t just tear open a part of her she never meant to show.

I run a hand through my hair as something scratches at the back of my skull. None of it sits right. It feels off and too fucking calculated. This isn’t random. It’s some kind of revenge plot. A hit list. Did these motherfuckers… hurt her? Did they touch my little corpse?

I start pacing, blood hot, murderous thoughts swirling, fingers twitching as I think about the scars on her body, but the second I hear the bathroom door creak open, I stop, eyes locking onto the threshold.

She steps inside, towel wrapped around her, hair drenched down her neck and she’s holding a med box. The moment her eyes meet mine, she stops and there’s a glimmer of something in them. Surprise, maybe. Maybe she didn’t actually think I’d still be here.

“You’re still here?” she asks, voice light but her eyes drift toward her phone on the bed.

When her gaze flashes back to mine again, she watches me while she walks toward it, scooping it up in her hand. I track her every move as she turns toward the bedside cabinet, pulls the drawer open and shoves it inside.

She lowers the med box onto the bed, then brushes that long, black hair, sneaking little peeps at me like she’s trying not to be obvious. When she’s finished, she tosses the brush aside and crawls onto the bed, laying on it like she’s waiting for something. Waiting for me.

As her eyes find mine, they’re expectant and mine shift to the door. I think about leaving again, just walk the fuck out like I always do, but when I glance back at her, I catch it, that subtle look of disappointment, like she knew I’d bail after having my way with her. Like she’s already used to being let the fuck down.

My hands clench and jaw tightens, but I push past the impulse to disappear and move around the bed. I get on and lie back against the headboard, one leg hanging off, eyes locked ahead like it’s gonna give me answers.

But when she edges toward me, my stare cuts to hers, sharp and fast. She’s gonna do it. I can feel it. That touchy, intimate shit I’ve never done before.

What do they call it again? Oh yeah. Cuddling.

I’ve already kissed her tonight, broke every fucking rule I live by, and now she wants this… whatever this is. And yeah, I’ll give it to her. Cause it seems I’d do just about anything for my little corpse.

As Soul would call it… Fucking pussy whipped.

She curls into me, tucking herself right under my arm like she was always meant to be there, and her face rests on my pec. I stare down at my arm like it doesn’t belong to me, lowering with a mind of its own until my hand rests lazily on her ass.

She lifts her head suddenly, chin landing on my chest, and my red eyes lock on hers like a shot to the spine.

“So, you do have a heart in there,” she says, face flat, unreadable.

My brow twitches while I think back to that photo I saw of her, and something shifts in me.

I push her back, making her lie beneath me as I lean over, propped on one elbow. I stare down at her, my gaze locked on her lips and then lift my hand. With my finger and thumb, I press at the corners of her mouth and shove them upward in a rough, mocking smile.

Her brows pinch together, confused and caught off guard, but it’s not enough. My hand slips down to her ribs, and I dig my fingers in, harsh and persistent.

Right away, laughter tears from her lips before she can stop it, her body jolting under mine. She swats at my hand and tries to push it away, but the smile still lingers.

I freeze and drink her in.

There it was. She fucking smiled for me.

“What was that about?” she asks, breathless, her eyes scanning my painted face, trying to decipher what the hell’s going on inside me.

When my lips part, her gaze drops to them, but I feel the heaviness building inside me, like I’m already suffocating on the words I can’t say.

Just tell her you fucking idiot. Tell her you think she’s beautiful when she smiles.

Tell her she’s prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen. Tell her. Tell her. I repeat the words over and over like a mantra in my mind. But it’s as if my brain and mouth aren’t connected.

I grit my teeth before clearing my throat, my eyes closing as I turn my face away. Opening my mouth, my breath hitches, but again, all that comes out is a fucking strangled choke. I feel the heat of anger mixing with the desperation. I can’t fucking stand it. I can’t stand how I can’t give her what she deserves to fucking hear.

I’m ready to storm the fuck out and let the silence consume me. But then her hand finds my face, warm and gentle, and it pulls me back to her.

“Don’t force it,” she whispers, her blue eyes calm, scanning mine, and understanding something I can’t even begin to explain.

But it makes me relax, and I drop my gaze as her hand falls to my chest.

I vaguely remember when I stopped speaking. Mid-teens, maybe. We were in that home after our initiation, all four of us, run by The Shadows. We weren’t raised, we were forged. Trained, cut down and rebuilt, over and over, until the fucking softness bled out and only sharp edges remained. To be honest, I was already halfway fucked just from being in Valen’s hands during my early years, long before I ever even got there.

Abuse wasn’t shocking. It was schedule. Physical, sexual, mental, it came in waves, and we learned to take it. To absorb it and become it. That was the point. To make monsters out of boys and break us just enough so they could reshape the pieces.

And somewhere in all of that, I went quiet. Not out of fear, I was done being afraid, but because there was no point.

I learned fast that words fall flat when no one listens. Noise never fucking saved me.

Screams dissolve when no one turns their head. It taught me how loud pain can echo when no one answers.

And tears? They dry fast when you realize no one gives a fuck enough to notice you’re crying.

So I stopped. I numbed it all out. Not because the pain lessened, but because I realized something darker. Trauma doesn’t fade. It festers in the silence, deepening its roots until the quiet becomes bearable.

Until it’s familiar. Until It’s home.

And The Shadows let me. They said it wasn’t weakness; it meant I was becoming what the fuck I was supposed to be.

Cold. Silent. Untouchable. And I believed them.

My mind is loud, an unrelenting noise of chaos, but I’ve always spoken when it mattered. To The Hollows, my brothers, because they’ve earned it. They’ve never made me doubt them.

But now I’m looking down at Aurelia, who sees through the quiet like it’s glass, and suddenly, for the first time in years, the one thing I’ve always held back feels like the one thing I want to give.

But it’s like something cursed is gripping my throat, reminding me I’ve kept it shut for too long, and I deserve this.

“You wanted to see me smile?” she asks like she was reading my thoughts again, but I don’t respond, I just close in on myself.

“And what about you?” she presses, and when her hand comes up to my face again, I finally meet her eyes.

She mirrors what I did, thumb and finger at the corners of my painted lips, trying to force a smile, but I stay expressionless.

She breaks out in laughter, her head tilted back as her hand clutches her ribs. The sound is so… carefree. So… pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone laugh before. And I can’t stop staring at her, the slight twitch of my lips deceiving me.

When she calms down, her icy eyes glisten with tears, still shimmering with the aftermath of it all.

“Why are you always so serious, you big monster?” she giggles, her voice warm, before her arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling me in until her lips press against mine.

My tongue instantly merges with hers, my hand sneaking beneath her towel, finding her bare asscheek to tightly grab. Just as things begin to get feral between us, my cock rock-hard, I pull back, giving her one last kiss before I start to move, preparing to leave.

“Nope!” she demands, sitting up and leaping onto me.

As she straddles me, she pushes me down onto the bed, and I sigh, my gaze shifting away. Her small hands glide over my chest, the touch igniting a fire that makes my balls ache, a painful reminder of what’s already happened tonight and how I haven’t even came inside her yet.

It’s fucking unbearable.

She reaches over to the med kit and starts preparing to treat the bullet wound on my shoulder—the wound she fucking created. I stare at her beautiful, makeup free face as she concentrates, her brow furrowed in focus.

When she’s done, carefully putting everything back in the kit, I start to sit up again, planning to get the fuck out of here before I snap her little body in two on my dick. But Aurelia’s hands shoot out, pushing me back down with a hard shove.

“Not so fast, circus boy. You tortured me enough tonight,” she purrs, her hungry gaze sliding down my tattooed body. “Now it’s your turn to be tortured.”

She suddenly rips her towel off her cut and bruised body, flinging it across the room, leaving herself naked, then lies on top of me, her head tucked beneath my chin.

I growl in frustration as she gets cosy, her warm flesh pressing against me, hard nipples grazing my skin. She’s not wrong. This is fucking torture. Not the kind I’m used to. This is far crueller. Does she know I won’t screw her pussy? Is this some kind of sick test? It wouldn’t shock me. My little corpse likes to play games just as much as I do.

Time drags on, her weight settling against me, her breathing slow and steady. She’s asleep, but I feel the pressure swelling as the seconds tick by, until, finally, I just give in.

Using my fingers, I reach over, grab the sheet and drag it on us. She stirs, lips brushing my neck with a soft sigh, sending a shiver straight through me.

I wrap one hand over her ass, the other finding her hair, raking my fingers through the damp strands and my eyes lock on the ceiling, becoming lost in the darkness. My mind running on overdrive.