Page 34 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Gripping the bars of my cage until my knuckles turn white, I slam my chest into the steel and damn near crack my ribs. “What did you do?!” I snarl at Necro, spittle flying from my lips.
What was needed, he signs, looking worse for wear.
Not good enough.
“I’m going to kill you.” Shoving an arm through the bars, I reach for Necro to rip his throat out and come up a few inches short.
Ignoring my fury like he’s seen it a million times before, the fucker gestures to someone I can’t see down the hall. Creature emerges from the darkness with Tiffany in tow.
Her eyes light up when she notices me and practically skips to my jail cell.
Two brothers crowd my door as Necro opens it just enough for Creature to shove Tiffany inside. Not reading the room, the dumb woman throws her arms around my shoulders and melts against me like I’m her long-lost love .
Fuck that.
I grip her hair and rip her from my body like she’s diseased.
I don’t want her touching me.
Not like that.
Never again.
She yelps as I shove her onto her knees and push her face against the floor.
Puffs of dirt float into the air as she breathes.
“Don’t fuckin’ move,” I order, lining up behind her.
I make quick work of my jeans, shove them down my thick thighs, and slam into her barely damp core.
Body pitching forward from the force, the bitch screeches in a mixture of pleasured pain, and I can’t seem to give a goddamn about any of it as I fuck every ounce of fury into her disgusting cunt.
Necro leans his shoulders against the cell across from mine, watching.
“Is this what you wanted?” I snarl and slap her ass so hard I know it’ll bruise.
He says nothing.
She moans. Fake? Real? Who the fuck knows?
Gathering Tiffany’s hair in one hand, I wrap her locks around my fist and pull until she cries, “Please! Stop!”
I don’t listen.
“It hurts,” she chokes.
Oh. It hurts, does it?
Blah. Blah. Blah. Cry me a river.
I do it again.
And she shrieks.
It’s perfection.
It’s everything .
My cock bucks, loving this far more than me.
When she tries to crawl away, I don’t let go.
I fuck her until I’m done.
No matter how much she whines.
Or begs.
Or screams.
This is what happens when you do sick shit to kids.
I will come for you.
I will use you.
Abuse you.
And then you die.
Too bad for her, I just lost my only link to humanity.
The one who gave me hope.
A sliver of it.
I’ve never had that before.
And I’ll never have it again.
Because if this is what hope feels like, I don’t want it. The suffocating pressure on my chest. I can breathe, but can’t. Not enough. It’s tight, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t draw enough air. It aches and never stops aching like a phantom scar that didn’t heal quite right.
I don’t want any part of it.
Not if it means this.
Any ounce of good in me is gone.
Sola took it with her when she walked out the door and left us.
Left. Me.
A detached haze descends as I work on autopilot. Fucking and coming. Bleeding her.
Her shrieks don’t penetrate.
The carnal pleasure doesn’t exist .
I am nothing.
I feel nothing.
When I lay her on the floor and carve through Tiffany’s abdomen, blood seeps down her sides and into the dirt and…
No pleasure.
No joy.
No relief.
Nothing.
When Necro offers me a jar from Rot, and I drop her still-warm organ inside the liquid, it splashes over the edge and soaks into the dirt floor.
Nothing.
A low growl emanates from within my chest as I finish the deed and wait for her to die.
It doesn’t take long.
Lying naked on the cell floor, Tiffany twitches one last time as her eyes glaze over, staring at the ceiling, rimmed in red from all the crying… and… nothing.
Dropping to the ground, I rest my bare back against the bars, knees bent, and I rub my face, not giving a fuck my hands are coated in blood and… nothing.
I am nothing.
And it’s all Necro’s fucking fault.