Page 21

Aurelia

I stare at myself in the mirror, adjusting the red wig perched atop my head. It’s styled into a complex updo, two black, Japanese spikes securing it at the back, and the hair cascades forward, partially covering my blacked-out contacts. Dark makeup surrounds my eyes, my lips painted full, black with a red ombre bleeding out toward the edges.

I let my gaze drop lower, taking in the black silk two-piece dress. It hugs my frame, decorated with delicate red flowers.

I slide my arms into long, silk gloves that stretch all the way up to my upper arms, until finally, I reach for the black Masquerade mask and secure it behind my head, completing, a reminder of how little of my real self is left for anyone to see.

It’s perfect. He won’t recognize me like this.

When I hear a knock on the door, I know it’s Blush. I flick off the bathroom light and open the front door to find her standing there, looking like sin dipped in glitter. She’s toned down from her usual performance gear, but not by much.

Her tanned skin gleams with pink shimmer, a skintight black dress clinging to her curvaceous figure, barely containing her tits, which are almost pushed up to her chin. A sleek mask hides half her face, but her glowing pink irises burn right through it.

She lets out a slow, appreciative whistle, her gaze dragging down my body and back up again.

“Damn, girl,” she breathes, her eyes locking on mine. “Are yousureyou want to stick with boring dick all your life?”

I chuckle, stepping past her and pulling the door shut behind me.

“Actually, don’t tell Wrath I said that,” she adds quickly with a nervous giggle.

I just roll my eyes, smirking. “Your secret’s safe. For now.”

We walk together toward Billy’s trailer to catch a ride, and she starts to bombard me with questions about tonight.

“This isn’t about Kyro, is it?” she asks. “I mean, you know that perverted motherfucker is already dead, right?”

I nod slowly, the cool night air kissing my skin.

“Oh, I know he’s dead. Hell told me as soon as he found me.”

“So, who is it?”

I take a deep breath, the unease slithering through me, the memory churning vividly in my mind.

“An old… boyfriend. He set me up to be gangraped by all three of my foster brothers. He watched every second that ticked by and did nothing.”

The words slip out more casually than I meant, but as I say them, I realize I’m beginning to feel it, the light release of freedom I’ve always craved. The ability to speak my truth, to act on my own terms, without fear of those who’ve wronged me.

It’s strange, this new feeling. Liberating, but almost unsettling. Still, I know I’ll never be ashamed of who I am, not after everything. If anyone should feel shame, it’s them.

And Blush... I trust her. Beneath that sharp, hardened exterior, I can see the scars that built her strength and resilience. She's been through something, and yet here she stands, a force to be reckoned with. I admire her and my sister more than they know.

Blush goes quiet, but I can feel her eyes on me, studying me. She blinks slowly, almost like she’s trying to process what I’m saying.

“They thought they killed me. And they did. But I wasn’t gone for long,” I continue. “I woke up in a river and managed to get out of the current.”

“And that’s when Kyro found you?” she asks curiously.

I nod, my gaze drifting up to the sky and I notice the stars here shine brighter, so much clearer without the oppressive grip of city lights drowning them out.

“Yeah,” I breathe, the truth sinking deep. “It was about a year later, though. I was living in a shelter at the time, just... waiting. Planning and plotting my revenge.” I pause before I continue. “I don’t even know how Kyro found me. But they kidnapped me, locked me away in a room next to Noir for almost two years. And all I could do was listen—listen to the shit they were putting her through, day after day.”

“God, girl. You’ve really been through it,” Blush says. “Men are such entitled pigs.”

I nod in agreement, but then turn my head slowly, meeting her gaze with a look that’s colder, more knowing.

“But they don’t break us. Not really,” I murmur. “They only build us into weapons. Weapons of their own destruction.”

“Damn right they do,” she responds with a big smile, taking my arm in hers. “Now let’s go make him regret it.”

When we climb into the back of Billy’s truck, a foul stench immediately hits my nostrils and before he even gets in the driver’s seat, I glance at Blush.

“Fuck, it smells like old sweaty ball sack and cummy fingers in here,” I mutter under my breath and Blush bursts out laughing.

After driving for a while, Billy pulls over a few blocks up the street from the club. I lean forward, telling him to wait and we won’t be long. Blush and I hop out of the truck and meet on the sidewalk, her arm linking with mine and together we walk toward the glowing lights in the distance.

“How exactly are we getting inside?” she murmurs, eyes fixed ahead.

“They don’t usually ask questions if a woman shows up dressed like this,” I say, nodding to our outfits. “It’s a men-only club, they’ll assume we’re just part of the entertainment.”

“Hmm…” she hums, clearly skeptical. “That’s risky.”

“It is,” I admit, my voice low. “But what’s life without a little risk? I’ve thought this through. He comes here every Wednesday. Always gets a private show.”

“And if we can’t get in?”

I glance sideways at her, my tone cold and steady. “Then I’ll kill the bastard in his car.”

She nods sharply in agreement, and I continue.

“Either way,” I say, eyes locked on the building as it looms closer, “he loses his right to fucking breathe tonight.”

The club stands like a golden temple of sin as we cross the street, tall and sleek with black marble pillars. Luxury cars idle along the curb, engines purring low. The building hums with wealth, exclusivity, and something darker just beneath the surface.

As we approach, the two doormen barely look up. One flick of their wrist, and the velvet rope parts for us. No words or hesitation.

When we cross the threshold, me and Blush share an excited smile, but the moment we step inside, heat slams into me.

It smells like whiskey, sweat, cologne and filthy sex. The lighting is low, casting everything in a seductive shadow.

Blush leans into me. “Now this… This is a circus,” she says in disdain. “Look at them all… Fucking vultures.”

But I barely hear her since my heart’s now pounding, my eyes already scanning the room, searching and waiting.

Then I see him. Gray.

He’s slipping away from the main lounge, alone, down a hallway lined with golden chandeliers and a sign that reads Private Showings .

A slow, electric fury builds inside me before I lean into Blush.

“That’s him,” I mutter.

Blush catches on instantly, eyes narrowing and we move casually, like we belong here, drifting closer to the corridor’s edge just as another woman approaches.

She’s tall, lean, her mask glittering under the light. She’s clearly one of the club’s workers, gliding in the same direction Gray just went.

We wait until she’s just ahead, stalking behind her, watching our surroundings and when she’s close to the room, we pounce.

I grab her from behind, one arm tight around her waist, the other clamping over her mouth. Blush cuts her off from the side, wrapping both arms around her upper body. She lets out a muffled cry, heels scraping the floor, but we’re already dragging her back into a nearby closet.

The door slams shut, and darkness swallows us.

The smell of cleaning chemicals fills the air and the girl struggles, but Blush is already on her knees, tying her wrists with something she found on a shelf. Crouched behind her, I keep my hand firmly over her mouth.

“Shhh,” I whisper into her ear calmly. “We’re not here for you. Stay quiet and you’ll walk out of here just fine.”

Her eyes, wide and shining in the dark, plead with mine. She’s scared. I feel it in her body. But I don’t look away. I can’t afford to. I know that fear too well—it’s why I’m here.

She nods, almost gradually, and finally goes still. When she’s secured, gagged and tied to an old radiator, me and Blush get to our feet, both breathless.

“You good?” she asks, and I nod once, then pause with my hand on the door.

“I’m going in alone,” I declare, but her hand on my shoulder stops me.

“No you’re fucking not. We’re doing this together. I’ve got your back, but I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” She whispers sternly, her pink eyes boring into mine.

I sigh, knowing I don’t have enough time to argue with her or change her mind. We step out into the corridor, one slow breath at a time, and start walking toward the man who thought he’d never face me again.

Blush slips in first, her steps smooth and confident, and I trail behind her, my heart slamming against my ribcage. The room swallows us whole—dark, soundproof and suffocating.

Then I see him. He’s in the corner, slouched in a deep leather chair, one leg lazily over the other, sipping on a glass of whiskey like it’s just another night for him. The pole in the center glints beneath the low light, the walls black and padded like the inside of a coffin. I stand there, frozen, as Blush eases the door shut behind us with a soft click before turning the lock.

And I just… stare.

He’s older, yeah. But not just aged, he’s depleted. Like life’s been gnawing on him, bit by bit. His once-vivid green eyes are sunken, like something behind them died and no one noticed. His jaw is tighter, stubble at the edges. The man sitting there isn’t the boy I once knew—if I ever really knew him at all. Maybe karma got him before I even could. Maybe he was cursed for the things he did.

My head tilts slowly as I study him, a cocktail of hatred and disbelief boiling inside my veins. He leans forward, placing the drink on a side table, like he’s settling in for the show.

He was never a victim of my foster brothers. He was the architect. The conductor of my worst nightmare.

What kind of man sets up the young, tortured girl who loved him, to be raped horrifically and left for dead? For what reason? It doesn’t matter. He could never justify it.

My throat burns and my eyes well, but I won’t show it—not here, not in front of him, not ever.

I gave this man my innocence.

My first kiss. My trust.

And he dumped it like trash, like I was just another pawn in a sick fucking game.

He lifts his hand, fingers curling in that arrogant little gesture, calling us forward like he owns us.

Blush and I share a quick glance at each other, just a flash of understanding, then we edge closer together.

When we stop in front of him, his bloodshot eyes sweep over both of us. He squints, trying to make sense of the double vision, whether from the drink or the unexpected duo. His brow furrows, and he leans back into the chair with a sluggish exhale.

“There’s two of you?” he mutters, holding up two fingers like he’s not sure they’re real.

I glance at Blush knowing I can’t speak. Not yet. The second he hears my voice, he’ll know it’s me. It needs to happen at the right time. I was planning to make it work somehow, even on my own. But now, standing beside her, I can already feel the backup I didn’t know I needed.

“That’s right, handsome,” Blush says, voice sugar-coated and deadly before she lets out a soft giggle, stepping in closer to him. “It’s two for the price of one tonight.”

She bends over slightly, her face coming close to his, lips just a breath away.

“Would you like that?” she purrs seductively.

A drunk smile twitches on his lips, lazy but pleased before he gives a small nod. The expression hits me like a punch in the gut, one that makes my stomach churn and my skin crawl. It’s a smile I never thought I’d see again, one that should’ve died years ago.

I force myself to hold my composure, biting the inside of my cheek as bile rises in my throat. But there’s no turning back now. I need to get closer. I need him to look me in the eyes and feel every ounce of what he’s done to me.

Blush sways into the center of the room, her body moving seamlessly in time with the pulsating, low beat. Her eyes are locked on him, a look of fierce dominance playing across her face as she runs her hands over her body, tempting him like a ravenous predator cornering her prey.

I follow her lead, pushing all the hatred aside and turning it into fuel. My hips move fluidly with the rhythm, teasing him, each step calculated, each movement designed to break him down.

Me and Blush start grinding against one another, her hands moving over my breasts and hips, her tongue gliding up my neck, getting right into the moment.

I can hear the smugness in his heavy breath as he watches, getting turned on, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

I close the distance, step by step, and when I finally reach him, I lift my leg over his, straddling him and press my knees into the plush leather. I feel his body stiffen beneath me, his hands twitching at his sides, desperate for control. But I’m not giving him any.

My gloved hand grips his wrists, forcing them back onto the armrest. I keep my face close, but just far enough to taunt him. I roll my hips, my pussy grinding over him once, letting the heat build between us, and his breath is now heavier now, his eyes glazed with desire.

Blush doesn’t need me to say anything, she knows exactly what to do and when my eyes meet hers, we share a knowing look, a mutual understanding. She steps behind him, and the years of abuse seem to press in on me from all sides as the seconds pass, but I keep my focus sharp.

Then, I reach up and unpin my hair, pulling the delicate Japanese spikes from my updo. The pins slide free in my fingers, my red wig tumbling down my shoulders in soft waves. And for a moment, I allow myself to breathe deeply, knowing I’m finally going to murder this prick.

The mask and wig is ripped off next and I toss them onto the floor. I can feel his eyes on my side-profile, the recognition starting to flicker inside him.

It’s time.

“You honestly thought I wouldn’t crawl back from the dead to haunt you, Gray?” I say, my gaze dark and gleaming, locking onto his.

His eyes expand as soon as he hears my voice, no longer the confident monster. No. Now he’s just a tiny man, frightened and helpless, remembering the version of me he thought he’d helped kill.

“You have no idea what hell I’ve become, what demon resurrected, but you’re about to find out, you fucking, betraying cunt.”

His terrified reaction is instant, and he flings me off him like he’s seen a ghost. I hit the ground hard, my elbow slamming into the cold floor, a sharp pain shooting up my arm. But I barely feel it, the rage and adrenaline is dominating it all now.

Blush is already on him, and she doesn’t wait. She leaps onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind, choking him. His body slams against the wall, the impact making the entire room shake, but she holds on like a fucking animal.

“Aurelia!” She calls out. “Finish this motherfuck before I snap his weasel neck!”

He thrashes, trying to reach back to her, struggling to breathe, but she’s a relentless little thing.

I push myself to my feet, knees shaky but driven by pure, violent anger, and that’s all it takes. I grab the two pins off the floor, thin, sharp, and lethal, and I charge at him.

His face is turning red, his mouth gasping for air, but he still alive enough to feel what I’m about to do to him.

As soon as I’m close enough, I lift both my arms and with full force, slam both pins into his chest, the sharp point impacting with a sick pop of muscle and bone, sending a strangled scream from his lips.

“That’s it, scream for her, you little bitch,” Blush hisses before she lets out a loud, unhinged chuckle, her head thrown back. “I fucking love it when a bitch screams!”

I pull them out with a harsh wrench, blood squirting out of the holes before I angle them low and with all my strength, I drive them straight into his balls. He falls to his knees when they collide, blood pissing out of his pathetic little nuts, covering the floor and me, but not before I yank them back out.

The moment he’s beneath me, where he fucking belongs, I stare down at him, my breath coming out in sharp, shaky pants. His wide eyes, those once soft eyes, meet mine, and for the first time, I see the truth of who he really is. A pathetic coward.

Blush’s voice cuts in through my madness, tinged with satisfaction. “It’s over.”

I shake my head once, the motion slow, and my wild eyes stay fixated on his fading ones, even when he starts to crumble beneath me.

“Not yet it isn’t.” I murmur before I lift both spikes once again, but this time, I come down without mercy aiming for both his eyeballs.

As soon as the spikes enter deeply, the sound that follows is gut-turning—vulgar, wet, and ultimate. It reverberates through me, now living in my bones, forever etched into them.

He slumps to the floor, but I fall with him, my body collapsing on all fours beside him, my hands drenched in his blood. My head hangs low as sobs wrack my body. But it’s not weakness I feel. It’s a surge of emotion so real I can barely hold it together.

Every tear feels like it’s pulling something heavy from deep inside me, something I didn’t even realize was still there. I’m bleeding pain and grief of who I was, finally. And in the midst of that chaotic release, something inside me breaks free, a barrier finally giving way after years of torment.

Blush’s hand slides into the back of my hair as she kneels beside me, her fingers threading through the sweaty strands. She presses her forehead to mine, her presence a strange comfort in the overwhelming moment.

“That’s it, babe. Feel it and let it all out,” she whispers in my ear.