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Chapter Twenty Three

Byron

I don’t look at the woman... I don’t even see her... this all for a reason. She’s an anchor. A path to my destruction, but to save the only thing good and full of love left in me. My sister. “Okay.”

Ren pats my head, “Good boy,” he says before he continues on his way out the door and into his studio. “Now Byron, this is Vivan.” with a smile he turns to her. “Vivan, that is Byron.” he introduces as if we are just meeting for coffee but I know it is bigger than that. He’s giving me a name. Something tangible, something that I’ll hold on forever.

I take a deep breath in as I stand. My knuckle hurts, and my ribs burn from the pain. The sting flares every time I breathe too deep, like a warning. The room smells like iron, sweat, and the faint hint of cologne. Memories of my sister crying when she was being bullied and I had protected her the only way I knew how—with violence. I was a piece of shit and I owned it. To protect my sister, I would carry on the darkness.

“Please,” she begs, her face full of tears and snot. “Please.” But then— “Byron...” she says my name trying to reach to my humanity , but that only belongs to my sister.

My stomach knots. For a second, the floor tilts.

My hand curls into her silky hair, and I feel like an executioner ready to deliver punishment. Her nails dig into my forearm, raking down. “Please.” She thrashes as I drag her to the studio. Her breathing is rapid—sharp, uneven—I feel every hitch against my arm.

My mind drifts to a happier time—

“I don’t wanna fall, Byron.” Gabriela pouts as I remove her training wheels. “Then how will you learn to ride? It’s okay if you fall, I’ll be here.”

She bites her nails. “But I don’t want it to hurt.” Softly, I pinch her chubby cheeks. “Then, I’ll kiss it better, but if you tell anyone, I’ll say you’re lying.” Gabriela stops biting her nails and jumps into my arms, giving me a strong hug. “You’re the best big brother.” And with that, she climbs on her bike, with my help of course, and then I guide her.

“On the count of three.” I say, running with her as she gains momentum. “One,” we count in unison. “Two.” And without realizing she’s on her own, I watch as she rides her bike with no training wheels, and without me. “Three,.” I whisper just as she squeals from excitement.

A soft whimper pulls me back. The weight in my hand is real. Her scalp, tight in my grip. Her tears, hot against my skin.

The cool of the scalpel brings me fully back to the present—to the cries, to the pleas, and to the part of me I know now I can never get back. I grip it tighter. My vision wavers, not from pain, but from clarity. This is the fall. There’s no training wheels now. No brother waiting to catch me. Just Ren and his darkness, ready to embrace me.

Ren walks towards her. She’s managed to crawl backwards into the corner of the room, frozen in horror, the fight has long left her body. But still, she can’t accept her fate. Gently, he grabs her leg causing a small whimper to escape her body followed by bloody screams as he cuts her Achilles tendon.

And I just watch. Because if it’s her… it won’t be Gabriela.

“Pleas—“ She’s silenced with a bloody finger.

“Do not ruin the moment. We will make you anew, beautiful,no longer broken, and no longer in pain. Thank you for your gift.” He leans closer. “Scream for me.” And she does as he slices her other Achilles tendon.

Looking over his shoulder, “She’s all good to go.”

I blink through my tears, my body moving on its own. This is for Gabriela. This is the price. If I bleed for Ren, maybe she never will.

Tears build up in my eyes as I move closer .

“Byron,” she sobs in my arms as I cradle her in my embrace.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused as to why my sister is crying.

“He dumped me,” she sobs, followed by words I can’t understand while I pull her away from me.

I cup her face in my hands. “Who that asshole? Armando?” I swallow down the shame and guilt from knowing what we did, and what he did to be closer to me without suspicion. I hug her tightly knowing I’m the cause of this heartbreak, all because I’m sick. “Shh... I got you,.” I whisper into her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, clutching my shirt, then pulling away and wiping her tears with her arm. “Why, pendejo, you didn’t do anything but be best friends with the asshole. You warned me.” She hiccups. “And I didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry, I hate seeing you sad.” I catch a tear and brush her cheek. “Want me to beat his ass?” She slaps my hand away playfully and scoffs. “No, but maybe scare him a little,.” she teases as a smile lights her face.

And I made a vow that day that I would never be the source of her pain.

So now, I make someone else carry it. If hurting her means Gabriela stays clean, stays untouched by Ren’s sickness—then I’ll do it. I’ll be the monster she never has to meet.

And with that, my hand moves down her neck, trying to sever her vocal cords but not kill her. I’m sure not hearing her screams will piss off Ren, but I couldn’t bear to listen any longer. It was enough that I’m willing to slice her skin.

“Forgive me. This isn’t for you. It’s for her.”

I’m no artist but I do what I can, carving intricate lines on her body as she thrashes, using anything to defend herself.

“I’m saving her. This is how I save her.”

From behind me, I feel my darkness consuming us.

Soft lips pepper my back with kisses as I continue to create—her skin coming away like paper in my hands. My skin feels sticky and warm, and the smell of iron and urine overpowers her peony perfume. But I don’t focus on the softness of her skin, the terror on her face—only the red. All I see is red... all I see is red.

“That’s it, Thorn. Turn off the lights. Look at those eyes,” Ren whispers against my skin as his hand wraps around my cock, jerking it. Disgust and heat swim within me as my dick hardens in his grip. Tears mix in with my sweat as blood splashes across my face.

Her mouth is open in a silent scream. Her body is here, but her mind is long gone. Like mine. But Ren pulls me back, refusing to let me slip—forcing me to be here, anchored to him. To his ghost... my ghost.

I moan as his thumb circles pre-cum around my tip.

“Be free,” he whispers. I look into her eyes and make one final cut, and our eyes remain locked—until the light leaves hers. Looking down, I see her blood on my hands, and I bring them to my face, painting it all red.

Red .

Red.

RED.

“You are devastating, so much strength.” He kisses my shoulder before placing a bite on it. The skin breaks. Not deep, just enough to remind me I still have a body.

The tethers to my sanity snap,leaving only carnal hunger. The scalpel falls from my hand as I turn to Ren, the weight of it vanishing like it never mattered, like I traded in my last tool for instinct.

Smashing my head into his, causing him to fall on his ass, he smiles welcoming the challenge. The violence. The carnage. The invitation.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Take.” As if I needed permission.

I wedge my body between his legs. He still has clothes on, too much for what I need. They cling to him like lies. I want him bare. Raw. I want him real .

Grabbing him by the neck, and pulling him towards me, I command, “Off.”

Ren gives me a devilish grin. Releasing my grip on his neck, I rip off his shirt while he works on his pants. His breath shudders—somewhere between anticipation and worship. I will bury my shame in his ass. My hand grabs a fistful of his onyx strands, and I crash my lips into his, causing both of us to moan into each other’s mouths while our tongues dance for dominance. Volcano meeting tornado. Wildness with no intention of mercy.

My free hand moves lower to where the blood is pooled, and I dip my hand into it, coating it with the wet, sticky substance. Pulling back from him, I paint him red. A crown of carnage. A lover’s mask. He is mine now. Branded.

“Beautiful.” I groan before kissing him again, consuming him. He bites down on my lips until he breaks the skin, and the taste of iron fills my mouth. I moan against him—feral, starving, sick with need.

We don’t talk, we just move in sync, our hunger consuming us both. Two beasts in borrowed flesh.

Pressing him into the ground, I take the lead showing him what he should have been shown—love. But not the soft kind. The kind that splits skin. That leaves marks. That says I was here.

Showing him what it’s like to truly want someone, even if it’s an act of mercy. Even a death row killer gets his last meal, and we will be each others.

Each others’ end.

Each others‘ altar.

I swallow his moans with my mouth as my hand moves between us, and I pull away, peppering kisses along his jaw, and down his neck and chest, then all the way down to his thighs where I place his long, thick cock into my mouth, taking it as far back as I can. My throat burns, but I don’t stop. His taste is heat and salt and violence.

Ren arches off the ground, pressing deeper into my mouth, his hand fisting my curls as he pulls my head up to look at me. His eyes shimmer, wide and wet, almost reverent. Like he’s looking at his god.

“Beautiful.”

Moving from his cock, I use both of my hands to push his legs up, and start licking his tight hole as I work my free hand down my shaft, mixing my arousal with some spit from my lappings to his ass. His muscles twitch beneath my tongue, a tremble that betrays how much he wants this. Or needs it. Or maybe he doesn’t know the difference anymore. Neither do I.

Ren moans, and as much as I hate to, I hum in approval of his arousal. His moan isn’t loud. It’s strained, like he’s holding something back—fear, maybe. Or something softer. Something he would never admit.

“I’m going to split you open.” I groan against him. “Do your worst.”

My blood hums from the heat, the need, and the sickness as I stand, lining up my cock with his tight entrance, and using my other hand I tug on his hair to make him watch as someone takes him. I want him to see. I want him to remember. This is what I look like when I break.

“I see you,.” I say, catching him off guard, his eyes shimmer just as I begin to push in, his body reacts, jumping to break free from me, but I wasn’t lying when I said I will split him apart. He gasps, wide-eyed—not from the stretch, but from being seen. Truly seen.

The sun begins to rise, and the room is filthy with blood and sin. Golden light crawls across the red-stained floor like it’s trying to cleanse something it never could.

I flatten out my hand on his chest, forcing him still... forcing him to accept me. I don’t ask. I take. Because asking would make this real.

We both groan as my head enters him, and I almost cum right then and there. I have to stop and catch my breath, but when I look at him, I feel hate, devotion, disgust and need. Everything I’ve never said, everything I’ve buried, lives in that single glance.

Pushing in further, he squirms as I watch his greedy asshole begin to take me in. “Fuck, Ren.” I bite into the flesh of his legs as I bring him closer to me, making each painful thrust harder and deeper. The pain makes it real. The blood makes it ours.

I feel the wetness and smell the iron of the blood coating my dick, and I smile. Looking to where we connect, I pick up my pace as I finally see emotions in those voids. Pain. Lust. Something akin to worship.

I fuck Ren with passion, with hatred until I can’t tell the difference between where one begins and the other ends. His name is a prayer I spit out through clenched teeth .

My balls tighten and heat pools in my core, but I don’t ask as I pump slower and slower, taking it all in. Memorizing this moment and filling him with me just as he had done to me. . My body shudders. Not from release—but from loss.

He kicks me off, my dick ripped from his ass as he forces me to the ground.

“My turn,” he says before slamming into me, using the cum slipping from his ass as lube. His eyes are wide, wild. Not triumphant. Not cruel. Just… desperate.

He fucks me until there’s nothing left of us except destruction and darkness. Not two bodies. Not two men. Just a grave made of skin and teeth and ruin.