Page 20

Chapter Fifteen

Aurelia

When I woke up this morning, Wrath was already gone, but he left a note behind : Good morning, my little corpse.

Typical.

I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy having him with me last night. His body was seamless to curl into, solid and safe. There was something strangely comforting about the weight and warmth of him. But honestly, I was glad he slipped out before I opened my eyes.

I’ve got things to take care of today, things I’d rather he didn’t see.

After the Tunnel of Blood situation, I knew he didn’t get to walk away that easily. He pushed my body past every threshold I thought I had. I won’t ever be the same after that, and while I might not be able to return the favor in kind, I can still break him in other ways.

Psychological ones, and I will.

Strangely, I enjoyed everything he did, every dirty and depraved second of it. But when he pulled that trigger inside me, something shifted. That was the moment I realized I’ve got serious work to do on this man before he ends up killing me. Not metaphorically. Not with threats. No. He will actually kill me if he can’t control himself.

And he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

I don’t know why I’m acting surprised. Everyone warned me what he was and what he’s capable of. And still, I let him do these things to me. I let him drag me into his warped mindset, let him act out his bizarre fantasies on my body like I belong to him. Worse, I taunt and push him until something in him snaps just so I can feel his wrath.

And then I wonder why I can’t stop thinking about him when he’s not around and why his presence still clings to me like smoke.

He’s under my skin.

No. He’s buried deep inside me.

But I’m starting to like it. It’s as if he was supposed to be there all along.

Maybe I’m just as fucked in the head as he is for wanting what we’re turning into. When I’m around him, he grounds me and there’s this pull, something running through me I can’t explain. It’s not just physical. It’s deeper, weirder. Like something inside me recognizes something inside him. And it scares the shit out of me.

But then he does these things. That strange tenderness he slips in when he thinks I won’t notice. The way he’s fixated, not just with what he can do to me, but with me. The way he watches me and listens. As if he knows I’m more than skin and scars.

And his hands… the way he touches me isn’t always rough. Sometimes it’s careful, almost reverent. The things he writes, twisted, haunting, yet beautiful, and knowing in ways that knock the breath out of me.

When he saw me smile last night, there was something in his red gaze that I’ve never seen in him before… It wasn’t hunger, but curiosity and pride all at once. He liked it.

The way he wanted to use his voice, how he let me see him vulnerable—hechoseto give me that part of himself. That told me everything I needed to know.

It made me realize, he wants me. Not just my body, but me.

All of me. Someone actually wants me. Not to use or to bend into something convenient, but because they’re utterly infatuated and so completely wrapped up in me that they’ll take anything I give, no matter how small.

And I don’t know what’s more dangerous, that he wants me, or that I want to give myself to him anyway.

Let’s not pretend I ever had a fucking choice though. He was never going to let me go. That was written all over him from the beginning, and maybe that should terrify me more than it does. But now there’s something almost... soothing in it, something I don’t hate. It cloaks around me and whispers finally.

It’s doesn’t feel like freedom, and it certainly ain’t fluffy.

But it’s a dark obsession. A beautiful kind of doom.

And oddly, it’s the safest I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Deep down, I think it’s what I’ve wanted and needed all along.

My head’s a fucking wreck. Just last night, I was ready to tell him to stay the hell away from me. I even pulled the trigger and shot him, just to make him understand I meant it. I thought that would be enough.

But the second I gave in, even a little, it was over.

The moment I surrendered, I knew.

I wasn’t mine anymore. I’m his. Utterly and irrevocably.

The Cirque is quiet as I slip in through the back and move fast down the winding corridor until I reach the dressing room. I shoot a glance over my shoulder and when I see no one’s there, I push through.

Heading straight for the clothes, I rip my backpack off my shoulder and start stuffing it full. Outfits. Jewelry. Wigs. Anything that’ll help me transform into someone else tonight.

Once I’ve grabbed enough, I sling the bag back on and step out, but just as I hit the corridor, I hear her behind me.

“Aurelia.” Madame’s voice slices through the quiet, stopping me cold.

My eyes close, feeling caught out before I turn on my heel and face her. She doesn’t say another word, just gestures for me to follow and disappears into her chamber.

I breathe out, jaw tight, muscles locked, and move forward, every step heavier than the last as I step inside and brace for whatever punishment she’s about to give.

As soon as I enter, she’s there behind her desk, lighting a cigarette like she’s been waiting for me. I stop in the middle of the room, watching the smoke whisp through the air before her eyes finally meet mine.

“Aurelia,” she says, calm and unreadable. “Tell me about yourself.”

My body tenses, the question landing like a slap.

“What?” I blink, caught off guard.

She takes a slow drag, then exhales. “I know you were with Kyro for some time, but there’s nothing about where you were before that.”

My jaw tightens and my teeth grind. I hate when people dig.

“And why would you want to know?” I bite, keeping my voice level but tight.

“You’re an outsider,” she says simply. “You didn’t come from where the rest of us did. I needed to know if you’re a threat—to the Cirque, and to everything we’ve built here.”

I raise an eyebrow, arms folding across my chest.

“And did you do the same with Noir?” I challenge.

She mirrors my expression with a slight tilt of her chin, cool and unaffected.

“I didn’t feel I needed to.”

“But you do with me?” I press, my tone edged.

She doesn’t answer. She just stares without blinking.

“I was fostered,” I admit, just to give her something so she’ll back off.

“By whom?” she asks, casual as ever, like this is small talk.

“Does it matter?”

A soft, cunning smile curls across her red lips as she lowers her eyes, flicking ash into the tray.

“Dark Night’s in a few days,” she says smoothly. “You’re not ready to perform, but you’re more than welcome to watch.”

“Watch what?”

Her dark eyes flick back up to mine as she takes a long, unhurried drag.

“People be killed, of course,” she answers, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.

I just blink, offering nothing, but she’s watching me closely, waiting for some kind of reaction, yet I don’t give one.

She snickers, smoke curling from her lips.

“I don’t usually tell people that before they see it.”

“So why tell me?”

“I wanted to see your reaction.”

I raise my chin, studying her.

“And what did you see?”

“Nothing,” she states, brows lifting slightly. “You’re not surprised, Aurelia?”

My head tilts, then I shake it slowly.

“Why would I be surprised? I’ve been in The Dismembered Den and the Tunnel of Blood. And I know that ain’t fake blood smothered over everything.” I say, voice low. “I’ve met Wrath... far more than once.”

Her brows rise, almost all the way to her hairline.

“And you’re not running for your life? You still want to stay?”

Silence stretches between us, her question hanging by a thread. I don’t rush on answering, I let it settle before finally responding.

“I’m not running for my life. And yeah... I still want to stay.”

She stares at me, studying every inch of my face like she’s trying to read the truth behind my skin. Then she nods, slow and approving.

“Finally,” she murmurs, lips grinning. “The right answer.”

When I sense the conversation’s over, I give her a small nod, just enough to be polite, then turn and get the fuck out.

Exiting the circus, I glance at The Hollows trailer, Wrath’s bike parked out front, black and red swirls bleeding into chrome, and without thinking, I start to drift toward it. I head straight for the door, the handle giving under my hand before I slip inside.

Silence greets me as usual, but I don’t stop, already moving toward his bedroom like I’ve got no choice in the matter, like something’s pulling me.

When I reach his door, I don’t bother knocking, I just open it and spot him instantly, shirtless, hunched slightly in the chair at his desk, back to me. His eyes shift just enough to catch mine before he stands abruptly, too fast, like I’ve caught him mid-sin.

My brow furrows as I step inside, eying him suspiciously and close the door behind me, dropping my bag on the floor, but he won’t turn around.

Then I see the blood. Thin, dark lines trailing down onto the floor, dripping from somewhere I can’t see.

“Wrath,” I gasp quietly.

My stomach tightens and I step forward, instinct kicking in, but his arm shoots out, blocking me before I can get too close.

I wait, confused, until he finally turns. That’s when I see it—his hand is the source, his fist clenched tight and bleeding hard, fingers curled around something he refuses to let go of, his knuckles straining bone-white.

He steps toward me carefully, eyes locked on mine, red and swirling. The closer he gets, the more everything else seems to fade, until he stops right in front of me, his heat wrapping around me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

He gently uncurls his fingers, one by one, and my eyes drop to it, my breath catching. Resting in his palm is a silver necklace, warped and twisted from what looks like barbed wire, each one jagged and sharp, spelling LittleCorpse in cruel, connected letters.

A chain connects to each end of the words with a clasp, glinting dully under the dim red light. The whole thing looks like a distorted, macabre piece of art, so painfully beautiful.

But what stops me breathing entirely is what’s behind it. Carved deep into his skin, the words Be Mine 4 Ever , letters raw and uneven, are etched into his flesh like a brand.

My eyes flick to the tips of his fingers, sore and shredded, and it’s clear now, he made it with his bare hands, each slice, each rip, a part of him he’s left in this… gift.

I can barely think straight. I can’t tell if I should scream or fucking collapse. The horror of his pain and the beauty of what he’s made for me, collide so hard I can’t stop the sting in my eyes.

I want to say something, to react, but the only thing I can feel is that choking knot in my throat.

It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me.

He made this. Just for me.

And what’s throbbing my heart the most is knowing, with everything inside me, he’d never do this for anyone else.

No one.

No one gets this version of him. No oneeverwill.

OnlyIget the man who bleeds for what he feels. Who writes his words on anything he can, just to communicate with me. Who tears himself apart just to give me something that can’t be bought, something forged from obsession and whatever dark thing lives in the center of that hollow soul of his.

My watery eyes snap up to his, and I notice his brow pinch just slightly, his gaze searching mine, like he’s trying to make sense of the silence between us.

I sense the confusion that clouds his red eyes. Do I like it? Do I hate it? He doesn’t understand what I’m feeling, not yet.

And I don’t wait another second to show him.

I step forward like I’m caught in a trance, my palms finding his bare chest. I rise up on the balls of my feet, reaching for him, and press a kiss to his soft, painted lips.

“Thank you,” I whisper into the space between us, my breath grazing his mouth as I stare deep into his eyes, making sure he knows I fucking mean it with everything inside me. “I’ve never seen anything so haunting… so perfect… so us .”

I sink flat on my feet, our connection lingering and without another word, I turn around, sweeping my long hair over one shoulder, baring my neck to him like an offering.

I feel him pause, just a heartbeat, and then his shaky, bloodied hands rise. He lifts the necklace and brings it to my throat. When the clasp clicks into place, it’s quiet, but it echoes inside me like a vow. It settles against me, and though it’s light in weight, it feels like a chain of souls pressing into my collarbones, marking me with some kind of importance.

I glance down, the word LittleCorpse resting against my skin like it always belonged there.

“I’m obsessed with it,” I murmur, my fingers brushing the lettering before I turn my head, meeting his gaze behind me—those devilish eyes already locked on me.

“But…” My breath catches. “I was always yours,” I whisper darkly. “From the first time you touched me… I was already long gone. Completely lost in you and your madness.”

His wounded hand clamps around my throat, rough and claiming before his lips crash into mine. Our tongues collide, wild and feral and just like that, we’re spiraling out of control.

He spins me fast to face him, hands everywhere, fingers ripping at fabric like he can’t stand them being on me another second. I can’t breathe from the weight of it all, his need and my want, but I know I can’t lose myself in this. Not now. I’ve got to get ready.

I wrench back, lips swollen and tingling, my chest heaving.

“I need to go,” I manage, barely, but he doesn’t care. He dives back in, tongue plunging down my throat, swallowing my words. I push hard against his chest just enough to slip from his grasp, bolting toward my bag.

But he’s faster.

His hand shoots to the back of my hair, yanking me back with a growl that sounds only half-human. I wince from the pain to my skull, his grip brutal.

Then he lifts me easily, his arm wrapped around my waist from behind as he carries me two steps and drops me on his bed. I land on my hands and knees, breath shallow, blood roaring in my ears as his shadow falls over me. A threat and promise of what’s to come.

He wastes no time pulling my panties and jeans down my thigh before pushing on the back of my head harshly, forcing me to sink my face into his soft sheets, ass up in the air.

He grabs my waist, yanking me toward him with a harsh tug and when I’m arched enough, his large hands land on my ass before he splits me wide open with a violent jerk, exposing everything.

His face follows, deep diving into me, eating my ass and pussy out like I’m his favorite breakfast. It’s sloppy, messy, fucking vicious, but I allow him to ruin me, pulling strangled moans from my body—sounds only he has the audacity to orchestrate. My hand reaches back, grabbing his soft hair and pulling him further into me.

After Wrath utterly wrecks my senses, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of me until I’m nothing but a trembling, destroyed mess, I stumble out of the Hollows trailer on unsteady legs, my hair tangled, my pussy still pulsing with aftershocks.

I glance back as I walk toward my trailer, feeling his eyes on me. There he is, watching, one arm resting above him on the doorframe, the other hand squeezing his hard shaft in his sweats. He licks his lips slightly, tasting me on them, his red gaze still full of hunger, like he wants more.

Of course, he does. His balls must be hurting. I don’t know why he hasn’t just fucked the life out of me already. Well, I think I do. Maybe he knows he can’t control his impulses, and he doesn’t want to lose me. But how will that work? I need to feel him inside me.

Actually, I’m dying for it at this point.

Yeah, he knows how to devastate me without his dick, that pierced tongue is sensational, but fuck, I need to feel that big spikey cock inside me.

Suddenly, I slam into someone, both of us gasping in surprise and when I look forward, it’s Blush.

“Hey, dirty girl,” she chirps, her pink eyes flicking toward Wrath with a sly smile playing on her lips.

As I keep walking, she falls into step beside me.

“I guess you had breakfast…” she teases, a soft chuckle following her words.

I smirk, glancing over my shoulder just in time to see Wrath push himself off the doorframe and disappear inside, closing the door behind him.

“No,hehad his,” I reply, amusement glittering in my eyes as I meet hers.

Blush bumps her shoulder against mine with a grin. “So, you and Wrath? You’re finally a thing now?”

I shrug, eyes shifting forward. “It seems so.”

“What’s this?” she asks, lifting her hand to my bag.

I glance back to see a few strands of red wig half-hanging out of the zipper.

Shit.

My eyes widen as panic kicks in, thinking I’ve now be caught stealing from the Cirque.

“This is from the dressing room, isn’t it?” she asks calmly, her eyes scanning mine.

“Oh, please don’t tell Madame, Blush. I just needed some stuff, and I was going to return it tomorrow,” I blurt, my words tumbling out in a rush.

Her hand settles on my shoulder, stopping me and I turn to face her.

“For what?”

I swallow hard and look away. “I can’t say.”

She tilts her head. “Then I’ll tell Madame.”

My eyes flash to hers in an instant, narrowing and she smirks, dimples cutting deep, and I can’t tell if she’s just messing with me or if she’ll actually tell Madame.

“You wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t I?” she presses, brow arched in challenge.

I frown, turning away and continue forward.

“I’m going out tonight,” I admit through gritted teeth.

“Oh? Where? Can I come?”

I shake my head once, eyes locked on my trailer in the distance.

“No. I need to do this alone.”

“Is it dangerous?”

I shrug. “Depends on who it’s dangerous for—me or them.”

“So, you could get hurt?”

My gaze snaps to her, brows knitted. “I don’t plan on letting any of them hurt me or anyone else ever again.” I seethe.

Her eyes widen with delight, a big toothy grin spreading across her face.

“It’s vengeance!” she squeals, far too loud, and I glance around quickly before hissing,

“Blush…”

“Oh, come on,” she pouts. “Let me come. I’m fucking bored here, and Iloveto watch a good revenge unravel.”

I growl under my breath, thoughts spiraling, rage simmering.

“I’ll stay out of it if you want me to,” Blush says, surprisingly calm. “Unless things get messy, of course. But I get it. I respect you wanting to do the dirty work yourself without help.”

I sigh as we reach my door, hand hesitating on the handle.

“Fine,” I breathe, knowing I don’t really have a choice.

“Yes!” she squeals, practically vibrating with glee. “So, do we need to dress up?” Her eyes sparkle like she’s already picturing it.

I glance around to make sure no one’s within earshot, then lean in close.

“It’s a gentleman’s club,” I whisper. “We’ll pose as workers in the private rooms. The women usually disguise their faces.”

“Cool. And how are we getting there?” she asks.

“I was just gonna catch a taxi or something.”

She shakes her head once.

“Nope. Billy will give us a ride,” she says, smacking her big tits with both hands. “All I have to do is shove these babies in his face and flutter my lashes.”

I grin, shaking my head as I pull the door open.

“Be here around eight-ish,” I say over my shoulder, and she gives a playful nod before I step inside.

– Arabella

I tear down the street barefoot, the cold biting into my skin, nightie clinging to my body. Every breath is sharp, ragged, and I keep glancing over my shoulder, convinced I’m being chased. The darkness swallows the world around me, the dim flicker of streetlights my only guide, my only hope.

Then I see it—a black van idling beneath the halo of a lamp post. It’s him. It has to be. My heartbeat pounds like a war drum, panic clawing its way up my throat as a silhouette steps into view, but I don’t slow down. I can’t.

When I finally see his face, calm beneath the light, a soft smile playing on his lips like this is all just part of the plan, my body gives out. I crash into him, and Gray catches me instantly, arms wrapping around me, steady and secure.

“I didn’t bring anything,” I say, breathless. “I just… I ran.”

He pulls back just enough, his hands warm on my shoulders as he scans me. His gaze lingers on my busted lip, then the dark bruise under my eye. He doesn’t say anything—he never does. His silence says enough. Zye’s marks are all over me, swarming my body and he’s been a lot rougher lately. Like he’s been punishing me more than unusual.

“It’s fine,” Gray declares, voice soft. “I have everything you need.”

A sob slips out before I can stop it, a sharp, helpless sound. Years of pain swell in my chest and it’s a tidal wave I can’t hold back. He pulls me in tighter, his arms wrapped around me like a shield.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Arabella.”

He guides me quickly around the side of the van, away from the street and possible watchful eyes. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, but they keep coming.

“It’s just as we planned. I’ve got your passport, clothes, cash. When you land in Canada, I’ll follow. Just a few weeks. Once it’s quiet and everything’s settled, I’ll be right beside you.”

I nod, but my stomach churns. There’s still a weight sitting in me.

“But what if Zye—”

Gray cuts me off with a single shake of his head and his voice drops low but calm.

“He won’t, baby. He’s never going to touch you again. You’re safe now. You’re free.”

A deep breath rips from me, shaky and unsteady. My shoulders sag, just slightly as he kisses my forehead like a promise and moves toward the back of the van, his arm around me.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside. I’ll drive you to the motel near the airport so you can change. Your flight’s in two hours.”

He opens the back door, and I hesitate, just for a second before glance down the street, the one I came running from. The one that’s held me prisoner my entire life.

Then I finally climb inside.

Gray gives me a smile before he shuts the door behind me and locks it, but the final click lands like a hammer to my skull.

My blood roars in my ears as I sink to the floor, curling in on myself, knees to chest with arms wrapped tight. The van begins to move, but I can barely hold myself together.

Something inside me screams this isn’t over, but I try to push it away, knowing it’s probably the trauma taunting me. I can trust Gray. We’ve come this far.

It feels like we’ve been driving for hours, the walls of the van closing in tighter with every mile, metal groaning and creaking with the rain now hammering overhead. My back aches from sitting hunched too long, and just when I think I can’t take another second, the van finally rolls to a stop.

I brace myself, slowly rising to my feet, and when I hear the latch click, something twists in my gut. Not fear exactly, but dread flowering cold and sudden, like my body knows something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

Then the back doors swing open, the cold rush of air and rain hitting me like a slap, and there’s Gray. Smiling, like everything’s okay.

That easy, familiar grin he always wears, and for a flicker of a second, I let myself believe it. My shoulders start to loosen, and my foot even lifts like I’m about to step forward, but then he moves to the side, and everything inside me seizes.

Because now, in the space where Gray stood, there’s Zye.

Standing still in the downpour, dragging his belt from the loops of his pants, his eyes are locked onto mine as if he’s already killed me in his mind. There’s something vicious behind his quiet, something that pulses darker than rage. It’s fucking terrifying.

I freeze in place, my mind screaming at me to run, but my feet don’t move.

“Gray…” I breathe, but it’s useless—his name slips from my lips like I’m trying to pull safety from a ghost, and tears instantly start to burn down my cheeks.

I don’t need him to answer. I already know he’s set me up.

Zye takes a step forward, the belt slapping softly against his thigh, the rain pouring off him as if it’s trying to wash the violence away but failing.

“You thought you could just leave without my say so? You fucking thought you could escape me?” he says, low and razor-sharp, and just like that, the trap I didn’t even know I’d walked into snaps shut.

As soon as he steps forward, I turn, trying to escape, but the metal wall stops me. The sharp crack of his belt buckle across my thighs sends a shock of searing pain through my body. I scream, my legs giving way beneath me, and I stumble forward, slamming into the van’s metal side.

I feel it dip as he gets inside, the weight of his presence pressing in. My breath comes in short, fast puffs, and I turn, still leaning against the cold wall for support. My hands shoot out, shaking violently as I try to keep him away, my body trembling from fear and desperation.

“I’m sorry… I won’t…” I sob, my voice breaking, but the words feel hollow, meaningless, as his shadow looms closer.

Without warning, his big hand comes up and smacks across my face so hard, my body twists and I crash onto the floor with a loud thud. My mind spins, ears ringing, blood filling my mouth, but Zye’s not finished. He grabs a fistful of my hair, ripping me up onto my knees, and I cry out.

When I open my watery eyes, I see Gray still standing there, watching, unfazed and unwilling to help.

I reach out for him, arms stretched in despair, but he shows no emotion.

“Gray, please!” I beg, blood dripping from my mouth, but it dies in my throat as soon as I spot Elias and Lake round the corner, stepping into the van.

“Hey, sis,” Lake says, like he’s enjoying every second of this.

Without warning, my leg is yanked violently from beneath me, and I’m knocked onto my back, my head cracking against the surface. I groan just before my arms are pinned above me. Lake taking one, Elias the other.

Zye wastes no time ripping my panties down, getting ready to rape me and that’s when I realize I’m feeling true fear. I start thrashing and screaming at the top of my lungs, but all he does is deliver a devastating blow to my face, almost knocking me unconscious. He grabs my bleeding jaw, forcing me to look at him as I lie limp, paralyzed.

“I told you never to fuck with me, Arabella,” he bites, voice shaking with raw anger. “Now you're going to learn what real consequences feels like. Real brutality. And whether you survive what we’re about to do… that’s entirely up to me.”

A tear rolls back into my hairline as I stare up at him, but there’s nothing behind my crying eyes anymore. No fear or begging. Just a hollow quiet. The kind that settles in when your lungs keep breathing, but everything else shuts down.

My mind drifts, unchained, pulling away from the van, from Zye forcing himself inside me for the first time, from their rough hands on my naked, bruised skin, from their vile words around me, from the burns of the ropes. Everything dulls. The sounds of their bodies colliding with mine and the pain I feel.

I float above myself, watching from somewhere far away, numb and light. They can take what they want, say what they want, but they’ve already lost the part of me they came to break. She’s not here anymore.

All three of my foster brothers viciously rape me, singly taking turns. Or all together at the same time. Repeatedly for hours, while Gray watches from the doors, taunting the gate to my freedom.

Until,

I’m lifeless. Dead.