Page 4 of Stained In Sin (The Twisted Trilogy #1)

The Masked Man

I stare down at her, admiring her innocence and class.

She doesn’t know anything about me. Other than the fact that I left her utterly confused in this very club four months ago.

I’ve been watching her for months, long before our encounter at Club Muse.

She has been my hobby, my obsession. I don’t know what it was that drew me in.

Maybe it was the way she avoided everyone in the club, or the way she bit her lip when she was nervously engaging in conversations she couldn’t avoid.

When her green, misty eyes locked with mine, I knew there would be more to her. That’s where I was wrong.

She is innocent. She is pure.

I thought for sure, after months of stalking, I would find out about a secret boyfriend or drug addiction. Surprise, surprise. Nothing.

She attends school, watches reality TV, and sips champagne. I’m not sure why she is even friends with Astra. The two are like night and day. Sour and Sweet. Death and Heaven.

I decided today is the day I should remind her of who she belongs to. I followed her movements all night. She should be more careful about where she wanders off to, or the wrong man might take her.

I have an in with the owner, Silas, and I let him know I had a visitor arrivi ng tonight. He gave me access to the surveillance room so I could keep a close eye on her and make sure no one takes what is mine. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, after all, that’s what I was made for—killing.

15 Years Old

“You’re a man now, son, that means you have to learn your place.”

My father’s words cut deeper than a knife.

“I know my place, my place is to protect my mother and Destiny.”

“No son, your place is to do whatever the fuck I tell you to. Do you hear me?”

I nod in agreement, knowing exactly what happens if I defy my father. He will kill me in a brutal, torturous way. He will make an example out of me, showing that even blood relation means nothing.

My father does whatever he wants. He is in charge of ensuring the rats are caught, tortured, and put on display for everyone to see what happens when they wrong him.

If he makes it painless, it’s not fun for him.

My mother resents him. My younger sister, Destiny, wants nothing to do with him because of how he treats me.

“Let’s go, I think it’s time you know just how far you will go for your family.”

I don’t hesitate because I know the alternative is death. I follow my dad to the garage and hop in the car as he escorts us to the job site.

We get out in a field, and there are three men, tied by their necks to posts. Hands and feet are bound together behind them, anchoring them further to the posts. There is no one else around besides two new hires my dad has brought on. They are handcuffed and sitting on tree stumps.

I always knew my father got his hands dirty, but I didn’t realize how filthy we were talking. I always assumed murder, since he doesn’t make idle threats. I didn’t know how gruesome it got. He pulls out a leat her-bound sack and unrolls it. It has a gun, a knife, and three sticks of dynamite.

He turns, head held high, to address his small audience. His jet black hair slicked back and clean, like he was going to sell a car or some shit.

“We are here today to allow my son the honor of showing his loyalty to our family. Once you’re in, you’re never getting out. Behind me we have three fucking rats who didn’t know what was good for them. They think they can run from me, but I have eyes and ears all over this city.”

He squats down eye level with them, “I think we all know what rats deserve— extermination.” He says with a chuckle.

“My son will get to pick his weapon or weapons of choice. Remember, if either of you— including you son, defy me… You will be next. Whenever you’re ready.”

I stand there staring blankly at the weapons displayed on the makeshift stone table. I can’t pick the gun, my father thinks that is a pussy’s way out of everything.

If I pick the dynamite, that might be too quick, but it would ensure that they are dead.

I finally reach for the knife, I approach the first man to the far left.

I take a firm grasp to his ear, knowing he can’t move much or speak with the gag in his mouth.

I slice his ear clean off. The knife is so sharp, it cut like butter.

“Maybe next time you will listen to your orders.” I say to him, watching him quiver.

My father chuckling in the background, as I make my way to the man in the center.

I take my knife and carve out each of his eyes.

He raped my mother. I overheard my dad talking about the bastard last week, now he can never lay eyes on a woman again.

I move to stand before the last man. The last man ratted out my dads plan to our rivals .

“Dad, do you have vice grips?”

“Of course son,” he walks over to retrieve them and places a pair of vice grips into my hand. I remove the gag from his mouth and swiftly plunge the vice grips into his mouth, not caring if i chip his teeth on the way in. I know I have to be ruthless now, or else I will be next.

I grip his tongue and stretch it out as far as I can. While keeping my death grip, I take the blade and slice his tongue clean off. Gurgling sounds come pouring out of his mouth, along with a lot of blood. I feel a sense of relief. It feels good to right the wrongs.

I walk back over to the instruments and grab all three sticks of dynamite and a roll of duct tape that was near the table.

I place all stick of dynamite in all three of their mouths and tape them shut leaving only the wick exposed on the outside.

I ask my dad for the other two men to do the honors in lighting them for me.

My father was eager and we lit all three sticks. We stepped back and waited all three of them got what they deserved— Death.

Present

I watched her in the voyeur room, looking nervous and timid.

She kept clenching her legs together to stop herself from feeling that physical reaction.

She fucking loved it. That’s what interests me the most about her: she’s curious.

There is something inside of her that needs a fucking wake up call.

I couldn’t help staying in the shadows any longer.

I need to show her that I don’t make idle threats.

I will fucking destroy Evelyn Blackwell, and she will beg me for it.

The night in the club four months ago, she challenged me. Something no one else has ever done. She didn’t cower in the face of a monste r. Instead, she wanted to see what kind of deal she could strike, unfortunately for her. This deal could end badly for her.

I don’t need to have a woman permanently. After my mother and sister died, I knew then that death is inevitable. That’s why I choose to hold onto no one. I don’t let anyone in, and I never have to worry about anyone but myself.

That’s where this entire situation gets fucking muddy.

When I watch Evelyn, my skin heats and my heart hammers in my chest. I feel like it will genuinely fucking explode if I can’t have her.

I know it will go away once I take what I want from her.

I need to get it over with already so I can move on with my life.

I keep my eyes on her, studying her where she stands. She looks at me as if she has seen a fucking ghost. She won’t be able to stay away from me for long. She will give herself to me, even if I have to fucking force her.

I make my way confidently down the staircase, not breaking her gaze.

She stands still, starstruck almost. Her low-cut dress and gold heels have me ready to take her into a private room and destroy her, but not yet. I want her to fear me first. I’ve always loved the element of surprise. I come up to stand inches in front of her, keeping my calm demeanor.

“I’m so sorry, I should be going, my friends—”

I cut her off mid-ramble, “You’re not going anywhere, Ms. Blackwell.”

I place my hand at the small of her back and pull her in. I feel her body go rigid, if only she knew the things I was capable of. I take her hand in mine, “Follow me.”

She pulls her hand out of my grasp. Glaring at me from beneath her mask.

“No. Fuck you.” Her words are like venom. Sinking into my skin and vi olently attacking my veins. A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips as irritation bubbles beneath my calm exterior.

I lean down and whisper into the shell of her ear from beneath the mask, “I would gladly fuck your sweet little cunt, princess, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”

I pull myself back from her ear, and I am met with a violent slap. My head bounces to the side for a moment, but she’s not as strong as she wants to be. I’m stronger.

I slide my hand up onto her throat as a warning.

Fear flashes in her eyes as she grabs onto my hands, clawing at them to remove them from her delicate frame.

I could snap her fucking neck right now if I wanted to, but I don’t.

A part of me wants her to run, so I can hunt her down later and then break her.

I want to show her that she isn’t as special as she thinks she is. Nobody’s perfect, and I’ll make sure she fucking knows it.

“Don’t instigate me, Evelyn. You have no fucking idea what I’m capable of.”

Her eyes round into saucers as she pleads silently for me to let her go.

And I do. I will give her the illusion of freedom, but she will never be free.

I will get what I want and discard her. That’s the only reason she’s interesting, anyway.

I’ve always loved a fucking challenge. It’s just a bonus that this one has plump lips and a juicy ass.

“I’ll be watching you, princess.”

* * *

I let her go run off and went back to stalking her from the shadows. She is a fucking anomaly. What 21-year-old girl isn’t begging to get her holes filled?

She went right out onto the patio to retrieve Astra.

Astra is dat ing my good friend, Lucien.

Well, they are in an on-again, off-again relationship.

He is smart and likes to keep his options open.

Astra, however, isn’t a fan of cheating.

She has broken up with him a couple of times, but she always comes back.

She is just like the rest of them. Always wanting to date the bad guy.

She thinks she can change him. Yeah fucking right.

And I’m the King of France. She fucking wishes.

If there is one thing I know about Lucien, it’s that he comes before anyone else.

He lost his own brother and didn’t go to the funeral.

He said he had to work. Which is fucking bullshit because he works for his dad.

Our fathers work together, running two separate organizations that thrive off of each other— to put it simply.

Lucien deals, and I am a hit man. We are an unstoppable duo, and I’ll be damned if a fucking whore gets between us.

She talks to Astra and Nicolette for a few minutes before picking up her phone and heading for the door. She is always so quick to run from danger. Except for the first night, I approached her. She was feeling confident that night.

She probably told herself a million times how fucked up it was that she tried to bargain with the Devil. Not a fucking chance. I don’t make deals. That’s Lucien’s job. I execute.

She seemed more careful tonight than she had been previously. She let her guard down enough to go sit in on some live porn, but not enough to trust me. She might be smarter than I gave her credit for.

She approaches her driver’s vehicle, scanning from left to right to make sure she isn’t being followed. That’s my sign to take my business elsewhere. I need to figure out where the little princess is running to. She can never hide from me.

* * *

I sit outside of her home, watching the live feed from her bedroom. I have s everal cameras installed throughout her bedroom and bathroom. It was so easy to break in to install them. She leaves everything unlocked— until now. Now she is looking over her shoulder, since I made my presence known.

She has a nightly ritual she performs. She starts with sweatbands around her wrists and head.

I think it prevents water from running into her hair and down her arms. She washes her face, not once, but twice.

Then she brushes her teeth for about two minutes while inspecting her skin in the mirror, looking for any imperfections.

Once she completes that, she moves on to mouthwash and finishes by applying lotion all over her body. It’s fucking mundane.

I can’t lie, though. Evelyn is fucking hot.

She has unforgettable curves and a deep brown hair color that makes her forest green eyes pop.

If this were the 1800’s she would have been burned at the stake.

She looks like a god damn witch. Full of seduction and charm.

As if she could put a spell on you at any moment.

She goes through her entire room, checking that everything is locked up tight. I chuckle to myself as if that would stop me from breaking in. She is comical.

I wait until she lies in bed, and I flip on the camera I have attached to her ceiling fan. This gives me an aerial shot of her laying down in all of her fucking glory.

She lies on her bed in the nude. It feels like an invitation if you ask me. You have to be patient . I remind myself that Evelyn is someone who I want to give me what I want willingly. That way, I can ruin all of her.

She lies on her back and pushes the covers down to her ankles. Her perky breasts are on full display, and her hair is fanned out over the pillows. My cock twitches in my jeans. I watch her hands trail down between her legs, and she slowly starts circling her clit.

After months of watching her, I have come to learn a lot about her sexual preferences. One thing that I find particularly interesting is that she never uses any form of penetration when she masturbates. She always gets off from external stimulation. I guess some women prefer that.

I unbutton my pants, knowing that if I don’t rid myself of this painful erection, I will start burning down this fucking city.