Page 220 of Hymns of the Broken

He whines, tears streaming, eyes wide. “Sawyer, please. Don’t do this. Please don’t listen to them. We’re married.”

I stare him down, not even shaking. “Till death do us part, Blake.”

He screams as I raise the gun. “No—Sawyer, please—don’t—”

I squeeze the trigger. His head snaps back, blood splattering on the wall. He twitches once before going utterly still.

The silence hits harder than the shot. I’ve never shot anyone before. I’ve never even thought about it before. My brain keeps trying to hand this moment to some other girl, some other life, like I’m about to wake up and find a commercial break between me and what I just did.

A feral,stupid thought flashes—‘Am I going to be the reason for a murder documentary? The teal-haired girl with shaky hands, freeze-framed while a grim voiceover dissects my trauma like evidence. Strangers arguing in the comments: Why didn’t she leave sooner? Why didn’t she go to the cops?’ As if a restraining order could slam a window shut from the inside of my ribs.

My body can’t pick a reaction. Laugh or vomit. Collapse or run. My knees hollow out, my palms are sweaty, and my pulse is a drum-line I can’t mute. Under the panic, something calmer settles in with me. He would have never stopped. Not for a judge. Not for me. Not for my sister. Not for my nephew. Not for the boys standing behind me breathing like they’d bleed on command if I asked.

My hands are shaking, splattered with blood—his blood. Riot is the first to move. He wraps me up in his arms, breath hot at my ear, heart pounding against my back. Jasper closes in, hands cupping my face, his thumb sweeping the blood from my cheek only to smear it down my jaw.

“Fucking hell, Trouble,” Jasper whispers, staring into my eyes like I’m something holy and dangerous. “You did it. You’re free. You set yourself free.”

The panic in me doesn’t vanish—it melts. The ringing in my ears thins to a throb, and what’s left is heat. Possession. Relief sharpened to hunger. I feel the terror unclench its fist around my lungs and the room rushes back in—their bodies, their breath, the iron-salt taste on my tongue. I’m not drifting anymore. I’m here. In my skin. In my choice. And all my fear floods with want.

Riot’s hand is already at my throat, his grip tight, possessive. “God, you look so fucking hot right now. All this blood—” He drags his thumb through the mess on my neck, paints it across my collarbones. “It’s like a work of art. A masterpiece.”

Jasper snorts. “You’re demented.”

“And she fucking loves it,” Riot says while kissing my neck.

There’s something savage in the air, a freedom I’ve never felt before. I push up onto my toes and kiss Jasper, tasting salt and copper. He groans, arms crushing me close. Riot’s hands are everywhere, yanking at my shirt and pushing it up over my skin that’s streaked in blood, painted by what we survived. What I survived.

Jasper grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Are you wanting to get fucked, Little Demon? Right here, right now? Did this turn you on?”

I nod. “Yes, I want you both of you. I want to remember what it feels like to be alive.”

Riot grabs me, spinning to lift me onto the desk—our altar. The blood is everywhere, sticky, wet, and neither of them cares. Jasper shoves my shorts and underwear down, fingers digging into my thighs, marking me with streaks of red.

Riot is behind me, hands sliding up my stomach, gripping my breasts so hard I gasp, his bloody palms leaving prints across my skin. “You see this, Angel? All that pain, all that fear—it’s fucking gone. You killed it. Now, let’s remind his dead body who you belong to.”

Jasper’s cock is already out and smeared with blood as he drags it up the inside of my thigh, and over my slit. Riot bites my shoulder, tongue lapping at the blood there, groaning low. “You’re perfect like this. Covered in war paint. Covered in victory.”

I shudder, back arching, begging for more.

Jasper slams into me in one brutal thrust, knocking the breath from my lungs. Blood smears across my skin from their hands being everywhere, and down his cock, painting everything in red. Riot presses himself close, rutting against my thigh, one hand fisting my hair, the other gripping Jasper’s jaw and leaning in like he’s going to kiss him.

“You two look so good together, blood all over you, our cocks hard for the same girl. I wonder how much more she’d scream if she saw me fucking you while you fuck her.”

My whole body jolts, heat flooding between my legs. Jasper lets out a ragged laugh, teeth bared, hips pounding into me even harder. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Sawyer? Watching us lose control, making a mess of each other for you?”

Riot bites my shoulder, his hand drifting down to where Jasper is buried inside me, rubbing us both, spreading blood and slick everywhere. “She’s fucking soaked, man. All this talk got her greedy for it.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Riot. You’re not fucking me—ever.”

Riot laughs, licking a stripe of blood from Jasper’s neck just to mess with him. “Not even a little? Damn, Sawyer. He’s no fun at all.”

I let out a loud sigh, playing it up. “God, you two are such teases. Guess I’ll have to keep fantasizing, huh?”

Jasper growls, biting at my neck, making it clear he’s only got eyes—and everything else—for me. “The only thing you’re getting tonight is us ruining you together. Riot can keep dreaming.”

Riot laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. “You hear that, Angel? Guess it’s just you and me for the filthy stuff.” His hand closes around my throat, not hard—just enough to make my pulse throb against his palm as he leans in, lips grazing my ear, voice filthy and dark and meant for both of us.

“Look at him. Look how fucking wrecked he is. Bet you wish you could see him on his knees for me—maybe sucking my cock while you ride him, both of us using you at the same time.”