Page 38

THIRTY-SEVEN

HIDING

BEG FOR ME—MANIC KAZZY

CALISTA

“S tart fucking talking. Either tell me what I want to know, or I’ll end you right here, right now.” I grit my teeth, pressing my favorite blade to Stewart’s throat—a trusted confidant of Killian’s father and my parents.

He sits on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned and pants unzipped, caught off guard as I straddle his lap, knife poised over his skin. Fear flickers in his glassy, bloodshot eyes, and the pungent odor of whiskey mixes with his labored breaths, twisting my stomach in knots.

“You set me up,” he spits, glaring at me, his words slightly slurred.

I can’t help but smile, nodding in agreement. “I did, and honestly, you can’t say you didn’t deserve it. Not after all those times you came to my fucking house to bid on me.”

The memories of those parties make my skin crawl, and Stewart’s face is a grim reminder of the torment I endured under my parents roof.

“Sure, I bid on you, but I never got to take you home,” he says, as if that somehow makes everything alright, expecting me to forgive him and let it go.

But forgiveness is not in my plans for tonight or ever, for that matter. And I sure as fuck won’t let it or him go. Even though Stewart’s hands are clean—his name is absent from my list—I’ve been trailing him too, only to discover his secret meetings with the fathers of my friends... It can only mean one thing.

“What are they plotting now?” I demand, my patience wearing thin.

When he remains silent, I press the edge of the blade into his wrinkled skin, drawing it slowly across the front of his throat and making sure to create a decent slice without inflicting serious harm. He gasps, instinctively placing his hand over the wound to stop the bleeding, but I smack it away, ready to strike again.

“Fuck! Wait, stop!” he begs, desperation creeping into both his words and his gaze—much like my own pleas on all those dreadful nights spent helpless and used by strangers for their own sick pleasure.

“Start talking, or I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you. You’re testing my goddamn patience, Stewart, and I have other places to be.” I feign a yawn, pretending to lose interest.

“They know it’s you!” he cries, blood trickling down his chest, staining his crisp white shirt. “Moretti, Gray, and Blacksburg—they know you’ve been at their boys’ house, and they’re planning to catch you off guard.” His eyes widen with fear as they glisten with unshed tears, my blood feeling like molten lava coursing through my veins.

“And what, they think they can actually stop me?” I laugh, playfully grinding against him for the thrill of it.

“Your parents paid them to find you and bring you home. This is bigger than just your friend’s fathers, Calista. You’re more wanted than you realize, and half the community is after you.”

The realization crashes over me like a wave of ice water, numbing my senses. My grip tightens on the knife, the weight of Stewart’s words settling into the pit of my stomach. They want me back. I knew that, but even so, the thought is fucking sickening.

“I'm not ever going fucking back,” I say, my voice dangerously low. “Not to them, not to anyone. Not after what they did to me for fucking years.”

“Then you’re playing a foolish game, little girl.” Stewart manages to rasp, each word stained by the pain and fear that festers between us. “You think you can take on the entire community alone? They’re not just men—they’re organized, powerful, and corrupt, sweetheart. They’ll fucking break you.”

“Break me?” I echo, amused. “I have friends, people who will stand by me and fight foe me. And not only that, but I have my determination, my strength, and my fucking taste for revenge, and besides, I’m already fucking broken.”

“Do they know the truth, your friends? What your parents are capable of?” His voice trembles slightly, betraying his own fear. “You think those boys are going to risk their lives for you? They’ll turn on you the moment shit gets too dangerous, just like their fathers. Weren’t they at your parties too?” He smirks, trying to get under my skin.

My blood turns to ice in my veins. A slight sense of doubt snakes through my mind, weaving a complex tapestry of fear and betrayal. Would they? “They wouldn’t. They know what they’re like,” I assure him, but it feels like I’m trying to reassure myself instead.

“Do they?” His sadistic smirk creeps back onto his face, dark and twisted like the very fabric of our lives. “Maybe they haven’t told you everything—like the conversation we had, the plans laid out in the open. You’re not the only pawn on the chessboard.” He speaks in riddles, confusing me and fucking with my mental state.

“Don’t listen to him, Cali,” Addy whispers in my ear, suddenly appearing, right when I’m on the verge of a mental break.

I shake my head, trying to get the voices bombarding my mind to quit.. “Stop! Just stop talking!” I press the blade a little deeper into his throat, enjoying the way his breathing quickens and the way he flinches under my intentions. “Tell me how the fuck to stop them.”

“The only way to stop them,” he wheezes, clutching his throat. “Is to put an end to the source.” He shoots me a knowing look before continuing. “Your parents will not stop hunting you until you’re back in their grasp; you’re their puppet on a string, little girl. You want to get out of this fucking mess unscathed? You need to stop them .”

“Stop them?” I repeat, zoning in and out as darkness seeps into the depths of my mind, body, and soul. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding. You want me to walk back into the lion’s den and just... what, hope for the fucking best?”

“It’s not a choice, Calista; it’s called survival,” he gasps, a flicker of defiance returning to his cunning gaze. “Think, little girl—it’s either face them and come out on top, or keep running, waiting for the moment they’ll strike when you least expect it. You have to turn the tables on them before they turn them on you… and they’re fucking closer than you think.”

“Stop fucking calling me little girl,” I seethe, extreme rage bubbling to the surface.

Out of nowhere, I close my fist, balling it tightly, and swing hard, connecting with the front of his nose. The sound of a crack echoes in my ears, and blood pours down his face instantly, somewhat making me feel a little calmer. But I can feel the walls closing in—the pressure tightening around me—pushing me toward that fateful decision.

I lean closer, lowering my voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “And how exactly do I do that?”

Stewart’s eyes flicker; he realizes he’s onto something, that he might just have a hold on me after all. “I can help you, but you can’t kill me yet.”

“Why not?” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“Because I have the information you’ll need. They’ve got eyes everywhere and ears all around. You’ll need me to guide you through this, Calista, to help you understand what you’re truly dealing with.”

For a moment, the knife wavers in my grasp. The urge to end him now, to rid myself of the burden, is strong. But the sense of hope—the chance that I could turn this around—pulls me back from the steep edge. Already having heard enough, I shrug, leaning in close so my lips are pressed against the shell of his ear.

“You’re wrong, Stew,” I whisper, licking his lobe and pressing the point of the knife into the bulging vein on the side of his neck. “I don’t need you—or anyone—for shit.”

With great force, I plunge the sharp knife into the artery in his neck, a gush of warm blood spurting out all over my hand.

For a moment, I just sit on his lap, frozen, watching him bleed out while I try to process everything he just told me. Maybe I did need him, but I couldn’t take the chance of him betraying me and running his mouth to the wrong people. He had to die. And besides, I was craving another kill already.

Coming to my senses, a new spark ignites within me—a dangerous thrill that silences the doubts whispering in my ear and the voices rambling in my head. This is fucking war, and if I’m going to survive, I need to make sure my next move counts for something.

* * *

The crisp scent of snow fills the night air, sending a delightful tingle through my nose as I breathe deeply. With my bloodstained hand, I light a cigarette, craving the comforting touch of nicotine to soothe my racing anxiety. The bitter residue of my zanex lingers on my tongue, and I savor it, knowing that in minutes, a wave of calm will wash over me, easing my inner turmoil.

Thick, threatening clouds glide across the dark velvet sky rather quickly, obscuring the bright stars as they struggle to break through the oppressive gloom. A chilling wind stirs, slicing through my bones like a sharpened knife, yet I embrace the discomfort, needing the jolt to remind me that I’m still fucking here, and free. But for how much longer?

As I approach the guys apartment, a deep silence envelopes the streets around me; the lively pulse of the city lies dormant, much like everyone else. Choosing to remain unseen, I tread carefully around the building, clad in black to avoid detection in case anyone is watching.

Spotting an open window leading into Killian’s room, I hoist myself onto the ledge and slip inside, landing softly beside his bed, where he lies in a peaceful sleep, snoring gently, his bare, muscular chest rising and falling.

The intricate ink—both black and colorful—decorates his body like a beautiful canvas, catching my eye, illuminated by the faint light streaming in from outside. My gaze is drawn to a tattoo etched over his heart—like Dom’s—my name with a stabbed, bleeding heart, an emblem I had never noticed before. Do they all have my name tattooed on themselves?

A swell of warmth fills my heart at the unspoken, unnoticed gesture, and I find myself entranced as I undress, leaving my bag and bloodied clothes ina careless heap beside his bed. Climbing in, I feel the mattress dip as I scoot closer, and I reach over, my black painted nail tracing over my name on his soft skin.

“Where have you been?” Killian’s sleepy, raspy voice cuts through the silence, making the fog in my mind dissipate.

“I had something to take care of,” I tell him, feeling unusually vulnerable as he reaches over and curls his arm around my body, hugging me close.

“I was worried about you, Cali. And fuck, I missed the shit out of you,” he admits, his eyes still closed as I stare at his face and the saddened expression now crossing it.

He rolls on top of me, pinning my body to the bed with his. Brushing the hair out of my face, he smiles, his sleepy eyes staring into mine. Reaching around to his back, I rake my nails downward, claiming my territory with deep red scratches that don’t seem to phase him in the slightest. Slowly dipping his head, our lips eventually meet, and our tongues tangle in a heated, overdue dance of passion and desire.

I can feel myself breaking down, my walls crumbling, and the armor around my heart slowly thinning; it hurts and feels phenomenal at the same time, confusing the shit out of me.

Instead of having to feel, I deepen the kiss, raking my nails up and down his back as he settles between my legs, fitting like a puzzle piece. I can feel tears welling in my eyes, so I squeeze them tighter, afraid to look at him as his lips move away from mine, kissing a hot trail down my neck and making goosebumps prick all over my skin. Nothing is said as we savor the moment, his mouth continuing to descend my body, kissing his way over my breasts, down my stomach, and stopping right below my belly button.

I still don’t open my eyes.

“Calista, look at me,” he says, his chin resting on the mound of my pussy while his fingers teasingly dance along my hips.

I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, so I shake my head and lie here, expecting him to give up and roll off of me. But he doesn’t.

“That’s okay. As much as I want to see your beautiful eyes watching me while I eat this pretty cunt, I can manage without them,” he hums, peppering kisses all over my freshly shaved skin.

He gently pushes my thighs open, keeping his hands pressed firmly in my skin to make sure they’re planted to the mattress, blowing a slow, tantalizing breath on my pussy and making my clit throb.

I still don’t open my eyes. I can’t bring myself to do it for some reason.

“Just wait, pretty girl. I’ll have you begging me to fuck you real soon, and then I bet you’ll have your eyes open,” he chuckles, swirling his tongue around my clit, flicking my piercing with the tip.

My back arches slightly, and my legs shake as he does it again, his breath hot like fire against my flesh. A rush of pleasure courses through me, igniting every nerve ending within. I can’t deny what’s happening, yet I still cling to the shadows of my vulnerability, as if hiding from the very sensations that are coaxing me into surrender.

He senses it, I know—Killian always knows.

“Don’t fucking hide from me, Calista,” he murmurs against my pussy as his tongue dips in and out of me, his voice low and sultry, vibrating through my core. “I can feel you battling with yourself, and I promise that you’re safe with me—with us.”

I want to protest, to fight against the urges, but each flick of his tongue and every subtle shift of his body above mine pulls me deeper into an abyss of sensation where all I want is him. Slowly, I allow the tension in my body to relent, my breathing becoming a shallow series of gasps as he continues his invigorating exploration with his tongue.

The evil world beyond our little bubble fades further into oblivion, and each moment extends like a whispered secret. His hands dig deeper into my skin, every scratch fueling the wildfire inside me that races through my soul.

“Please, Killian,” I whisper, clinging to him while his tongue swirls in circles around my pulsing clit.

My eyes fling open and search his for reassurance through my long lashes. He looks up at me, those dark, intimidating eyes ablaze with an intensity that matches mine. He smirks, drilling his tongue in and out of my pussy, teasing me as my walls begin to clench around him.

“Good girl,” he tells me, his voice vibrating against my pussy.

With that, he dives back in, his mouth a vortex of heat and desire. Each stroke of his tongue pulls me toward the edge, and I can feel the muscles in my body tightening. I arch my back, surrendering fully to him as he feasts on my pussy like it’s his last meal, licking and sucking me clean.

I reach down, gliding my fingers through his soft hair, tugging roughly as my legs try to clench around his head. He hums with his tongue inside my pussy, making my legs quiver from the sensation. Easing his pierced tongue out of me, he curls it around my clit and slides two fingers in my pussy, parting and hooking them while still gently thrusting. He slurps up my cum, tugging my clit between his teeth like he’s chewing meat off a bone.

But he doesn’t let me finish.

"Killian—” I moan as he slides his fingers out of me, climbing up my body until he’s hovering over me, his cock poking against my clenching pussy.

“Cali,” he murmurs, his husky voice a sweet blend of urgency and need. “Are you ready to come for me?”

I nod frantically, biting my lip and tensing my body to try and stop myself from coming without him. Wrapping his strong hand around my throat, he applies just enough pressure to intensify the pleasure surging through me. He bites his lip, pushing his dick into my pussy, easing in slowly so I feel every inch of him stretching me out.

I cling to the wrinkled, sweat-soaked sheet beneath me, trying to desperately anchor myself as I wrap my legs around him, drawing him in even closer as if I can’t get enough of him. He fills me completely, pushing past my boundaries, going so deep that I can feel him in my stomach.

His breath hitches as he begins to rock his hips, slow at first, savoring our connection before gradually picking up the pace and gyrating them to a beat only he can hear. My body trembles as he fucks me, my orgasm on the brink of exploding into something beautiful. He leans down and captures my lips, slamming into me, the sound of our skin slapping together echoing in my ears.

“I want to hear you say my name when you come, Cali.” He lets out a dangerously low growl, slightly commanding.

I can feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter as he fucks me deeper, his strokes fast and consuming. I bury my hands in his hair, pulling him even closer, my legs locked tightly around him as he pounds into me.

“Killian,” I pant, and it feels like a confession rolling off the tip of my tongue, his name an answer to my prayers.

He thrusts into me harder, grinning now that I gave him what he wanted. I finally let go, soaking his cock as it delves in and out of my pussy, setting it on fire with each stroke. My back arches, my chest colliding with his as I unravel beneath him, succumbing to the violent, brutal thrusts he’s using as some sort of weapon.

Panting and shaking, my legs fall from around his body, and my back hits the bed, the sweat covering my skin and making me stick to the fabric. But I don’t care. Killian smirks, sliding out of me, crawling further up my body. He wraps his hand around his slick cock and starts stroking, aiming for my breasts with a devious grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

As he finally comes, his eyes find mine, a mischievous look clouding them. What I don’t realize right away is that he’s spelling something across my breasts with his cum: his name, Kill. His warm cock rubs against my nipples as he spreads his cum around, a smirk gracing his lips like a secret being exposed.

“Did you really write your name in cum on my tits?”

Winking, he nods his head, grunting through the last wave of pleasure that rips through him. “I sure the fuck did. You’re mine, Calista.”

As he finally collapses beside me, spent and panting, I tuck my head in the crook of his neck, savoring the thumping sound of his heartbeat. With the city still asleep outside, and the night stretched around us like a protective blanket, I know that for tonight I’ve traded my armor for warmth—a decision I’m finally ready to embrace.