Page 11 of Sadist (The Triarchy Collection #1)

THEO

O ctavia was a drug, and I was her willing addict. I hadn’t even tasted her yet, hadn’t even kissed her, and I was hooked. And it was a fucking problem.

I had straddled her lap, edging her with enough pain that should have left her writhing. But she had loved it, and her eyes had never left me once.

Arousal and I have an odd relationship. I find pleasure in intimacy, but to reach that truly aching need that takes over your entire body…

for that, I need to dip into the darkest side of me.

I need control. All of it. I need to take someone and push them to their limits.

But what really makes me wet is when someone willingly suffers for me…

wants the pain that I can wield like an art form synonymous with pleasure.

And fuck she had wanted it.

Octavia hadn’t said anything when I stood afterward, stripping my top and bra off, and dropping them on the ground before walking to the shower to wash away my sins. I had needed to get away from her for a moment before I completely lost my mind and did something outrageous like kiss her.

I did not kiss. I barely even touched. It was why Erryn and I hadn’t worked even though we were explosive together.

We both needed the control that neither was willing to fully give up.

Erryn had kissed me once, and I had pulled away.

It was too intimate. Too vulnerable. But I needed to know what Octavia’s lips felt like, and I had a feeling that not knowing would haunt me until the day I died.

I had pulled clothes on my still-damp skin and was toweling off my hair, when my phone buzzed, and I glanced at the blocked number before swiping the screen to answer.

“We have comms from Vanguard,” O’Malley said in his usual brusque manner. “He has agreed to send a tech to remove the software. But he has demands.”

I scoffed, stepping out from behind the shower and locating Octavia. She was by the kitchen sink with her back to me, and I was amused to note she was wearing a fresh T-shirt of mine that had been in the dryer. The little minx had been snooping.

“Of course he does. What are they?”

“The girl is to be witnessed by their man beforehand. Somewhere public, where she is to remain while their tech does the removal.”

I hummed softly. “When?”

“Today.”

I shook my head. “Too rushed, the meeting point will need recon first. I’ll need to update Loxley, and set u?—”

“Zichen already confirmed with Vanguard and set up access to the system with Loxley,” O’Malley cut me off. “He has it in hand.”

“—Excuse me?” I said after a long pause. “He fucking what ?”

“Look, just bring the girl. Location’s been sent.”

The line went dead, and I stared at the dark screen, a wave of anger nearly sent the small device hurtling into the wall, and I was still staring at it when Octavia’s voice snapped me out of it. She wasn’t looking at me and seemed to be deep in contemplation as she gripped the side of the sink.

“Was that about me?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, studying the delicate blades of her shoulders beneath the thin T-shirt. “It seems your father would like you home after all.”

She stiffened, still not turning to look at me, the muscles in her arms flexing as she gripped the sink tighter.

“So, you’re taking me to him?”

She sounded…I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But there was one thing entirely missing. Relief. There was no relief in her voice.

And there should have been.

Pulling the vehicle to a stop at the location O’Malley had sent me, I sighed and shook my head, immediately cataloguing the numerous strategic issues with the site.

“Fucking idiots,” I murmured, passing a hand over the Glock hidden at my hip to reassure myself of its presence.

We were in an abandoned parking lot under a bustling motorway bridge, the noise being the first problem.

Down the far end was what looked to be a makeshift settlement of tents and cardboard lean-tos, with disheveled inhabitants who eyed me warily as I got out of the car and scoped out the area.

There was an abandoned apartment complex directly across from us, a black cat sitting on the crumbling brick fence around it. That building alone had a dozen dark, empty windows I was uncomfortable with.

An empty can clattered and a fire sparked as I turned to see one of the vagrants poking at a drum that a few more were standing around, warming their hands and whispering amongst themselves.

Don’t try it, I mentally warned a burly-looking person who was showing far too much interest in the blacked-out windows of my Jeep.

Seconds later, Zichen’s sleek grey car pulled up, and O’Malley stepped out with a narrowed-eyed look.

“You bring her?”

“Back seat,” I said acidly as Zichen and a man I guessed was Vanguard’s tech guy emerged as well. O’Malley went to move toward my car, and I stepped in his way, a hand on my gun.

“He needs eyes on her,” he grunted.

I ignored him, instead pointing at the third guy.

“You. Come here.”

“You’re not swinging orders here, Lancaster,” Zichen interjected. “O’Malley, get her out.”

I tilted my head to look up at O’Malley, pleased to see he looked more than a little disconcerted as his eyes went from me to the car, and back again.

“You can open the door and let him take a look at her. Leave the hood on, those vagrants are showing far too much interest.”

O’Malley lumbered past me as I turned my attention to Vanguard’s man. He was a pale, gaunt-looking creature with a sheen of sweat across his brow. He was shifting nervously from foot to foot, looking everywhere but toward my car.

“Tell me you searched him, Zichen?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the man.

“He did,” Vanguard’s man answered, a faint shake to his voice. “Twice.” He swiped at his forehead, leaning to look past me into the open car, his face losing color by the second.

“Miss Vanguard?” he called, a noticeable shake to his voice now.

“Yes!” a small voice called back.

The man nodded once. He was breathing heavily, and I frowned, the hairs on my arms rising as I reached for the gun at my hip.

“Zichen,” I warned.

Vanguard’s man whistled suddenly, and the world exploded.

I was thrown violently to the side, debris pelting me. Something slammed against my shoulder, and then I hit the ground, my skin scraping across concrete as my nose and eyes filled with dust.

Car alarms were going off, someone was screaming, and the sound of metal grinding on metal and terrified shouts filtered through the chaos.

My ears were ringing, my body screaming in multiple places as I hauled myself to my hands and knees, shaking my head to try to clear it.

I stood, my head taking a moment to catch up as the dust began to settle, and I got my first look at what had happened.

Part of the bridge had collapsed. Half a dozen cars had come down with it, with broken slabs of concrete and rubble filling the parking lot.

Civilians caught up in the explosion were trying to get out of crumpled cars, other cars half buried under concrete slabs, while a horn blared in an unending scream as I tried to orient myself.

There was something warm and sticky running down the back of my neck, my head swam alarmingly, and I coughed up the dust clogging my lungs.

Where the fuck is my car?

I staggered forward, moving in the direction I thought it should be.

“Lancaster!” O’Malley was leaning heavily against a large chunk of concrete, rubbing at his streaming eyes.

“What the hell was that?” I choked out, swiping at the air as if it would clear it. “Where is the car, O’Malley?”

“Over there,” he rasped, pointing toward a dim shape in the dust.

I staggered toward it, just making out the familiar license plate in the dust, the front half of it crushed under an upside-down SUV.

Shapes moved through the murk on the far side, a warm light flared, and a feminine scream rent the air as glass smashed.

Fire suddenly engulfed the inside of my car and the screaming became panicked.

“No!”

I lunged forward, fire already licking at the window closest to me.

A bottle flew through the air in front of me, smashing through the window and erupting in more flames as the screaming in the car reached a crescendo…then suddenly ceased.

I skidded to a stop just shy of the flames, the heat of them already overwhelming as I stared in horror, my mind sluggishly trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of me.

Rubble to my side crunched in warning, and I barely lifted my gun in time as one of the vagrants pulled a rifle from beneath his threadbare coat and aimed it at me.

Blood exploded across the dusty slab of bridge behind him in a macabre splash of crimson on grey as my bullet took him between the eyes.

I swung around as footsteps stumbled behind me, Zichen’s grime-streaked expression shocked as he took in the gruesome scene.

“You fucking imbecile,” I snarled at him, taking three long strides and swinging at him. He dodged, taking the butt of my gun to his collarbone rather than his temple, cursing loudly as he rounded on me.

“How was I meant to know it was a set up!” he barked. “Did you get her out?’

He wasn’t fast enough to dodge my next swing, and I connected solidly with his temple, dazing him long enough to get a grip on his neck and drag him toward the burning vehicle.

“Does it fucking look like I got her out?” I hissed in his ear, holding him close enough to the flames that the heat scorched my skin. “This is on you, you incompetent fuck , and Loxley is going to know it.”

I let him go with a shove, delivering a hard kick to his kidney that made him wretch into the dust as O’Malley lumbered into view, his phone to his ear.

“Move,” he snapped, as all around us more people began to emerge. In the distance, the faint wail of sirens began to rise over the din of death and panic. “Got an extraction meeting us at Fifth and Carlisle.”