Page 55 of The Boy I Loved (Eternal Hell #1)

Tristan’s attention shifted to me and Hazel, his gaze dropping to the arm I had around her waist. His lips curled into a sneer, but he directed his focus back to the girl being assaulted.

Vincent wasn’t gentle with her. He slammed into her so powerfully, it sounded like the table might break beneath their weight.

She was so small compared to him, and she didn’t have the time to prepare before he was slamming into her.

His grunts grew louder and more determined as he took what he wanted from her.

He wasn’t like Mason or Tristan. He didn’t care about making it good for them, even less so since this was a punishment.

“Please,” she cried out, tears brimming her eyes. “I’m sorry. ”

Vincent wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed, his eyes hardening.

In a few more powerful thrusts, he was pulling out and releasing all over her pussy.

His chest was heaving as he worked to catch his breath, but once he had, he released her and stepped away, tugging his pants back up over his hips and buttoning them.

He swept a hand through his dark hair and made his way back over to us, sinking into the spot beside Azrael.

Emerson was trembling, her legs limp where they hung over the table’s edge. Her neck rolled when she turned to look at Tristan with pleading eyes. She was still badly bruised and fucked up from the last time she’d been with him.

“What is he going to do to her?” Hazel whispered, her voice so soft that I could barely make out the words.

“Shhh. Just be glad it isn’t you.”

Tristan twirled the hammer around in his grip before making his way between her legs. A snarl of disgust curled around the edges of his mouth as he took in Vincent’s release splattered all across her red and bruised pussy.

“You spoke out of turn,” he accused, lowering the hammer to her thigh. He ran it up the inside of her leg slowly, letting the anticipation of what was to come build. “And you questioned my authority.”

Emerson bit her lower lip, a silent plea flashing through her eyes. She knew better than to speak out of turn again. Tristan was on a warpath, and nothing would go unpunished.

“Do you know why I chose you?” he continued.

She swallowed thickly, blinking away some of the tears. “Y-you said I was better than most of the other girls.”

He hummed in response, continuing to inch the hammer up her leg until it was getting close to her cunt. She tensed further, clamping her eyes closed tightly. She knew as well as the rest of us how unpredictable Tristan was, and she didn’t know what else he had in store for her .

“You were,” he admitted. “Not so much now.”

Emerson’s face paled, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. Even in danger, she still tried to maintain a stoic expression, not wanting to give him further incentive to punish her.

Hazel was still as a statue, her fingernails curling around the hem of her skirt.

She was the kind of girl who would capture spiders and release them into the wild rather than killing them.

She was the kind of person who would listen to her friends speak for hours, even while she had her own problems. Hazel was gentle, compassionate, and kind.

Even now, that was still true. Acts of violence didn’t appeal to her; she didn’t understand the point of them.

All she knew was that people were being tortured and degraded for sport.

My grip tightened around her waist, and for a moment, I didn’t give a shit what Tristan thought about it.

It wasn’t like he could control me. I wasn’t one of the other fucks he could push around.

I was Dominic Steel, a descendant of Clay Steel.

Here, that held a lot of fucking weight.

Tristan and I should have been equals in every sense of the word, but for some reason, Clay still doubted my loyalty. Maybe his hesitation wasn’t misplaced.

Tristan’s voice sliced through my thoughts, pulling me back to the scene at hand. “How do you feel for me, Emerson? And do not lie. I’ll know.” He was toying with her now. He knew she cared for him more than she should have. He was her captor, and she meant nothing to him.

“I-I respect you,” she stammered, trembling on the table. The hammer was positioned at her hipbone now, but he didn’t swing it on her again, not yet at least.

Tristan arched an eyebrow. “And?”

She blew out a shaky breath, tucking her lower lip between her teeth as she worked to calm her breathing. “I care for you,” she admitted. “A lot.”

“Keep going,” he ordered.

“I-I love you, Tristan.” The words were jumble d

Tristan’s lips twitched, more in amusement than anything else.

“Pathetic,” he murmured. “This is why men are the better gender. Women are too emotional. They can’t have sex without falling in love.

It’s tragic, really.” He shook his head, blowing out a breath.

“Did you honestly think I could ever love you?”

She sniffled, her body slumping in defeat.

His words hit a nerve; it was etched into her features.

I knew that was why she hadn’t wanted to tell him how she felt.

She already knew he’d never feel the same for her, even if she hoped he’d change his mind.

Tristan couldn’t love. I’d never seen him give a shit about anything or anyone other than himself or his own desires.

At least, Emerson shook her head. “I know,” she admitted.

“I think that’s all. Anything else you’d like to say?”

Any last words.

That was what he really meant. He enjoyed killing as much as he enjoyed fucking. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he killed Nia, and he was already wanting to do it again. Ironically, these were both women he’d claimed as his chosen.

She shook her head, not realizing he was seconds away from ending her life.

Tristan shrugged. Without warning, he cocked his arm back and smashed the hammer onto her pussy with so much brutality, I could hear the bones snap on impact. Emerson’s scream was instant, slicing through the silent air like nails on a screeching chalkboard.

Hazel gasped, jumping against me. I tightened my grip around her, silently willing her to not jump to the rescue. She seemed to want to do that a lot.

“Please,” Emerson shrieked, holding her hands out in front of her body like it would protect her.

Tristan swung again, smashing the hammer against one of her hands this time since it was in his way. Another scream tore from her lungs as she jerked it back, cradling her broken fingers to her chest. Pure agony was etched in her features, tears streaming down her face.

The next hit was to her pussy again, another crack echoing through the room.

He swung and swung and swung until the poor girl couldn’t cry any longer.

The pain had consumed her so viscerally that she’d grown numb.

Once her cunt was nothing but a bloody, caved in mesh of flesh, he walked around the table, his eyes falling on hers.

“Nothing personal, baby,” he said. “I’ve just grown bored of you.”

And with that, he swung the hammer down on her face.

She choked on her own tooth as it was knocked from its socket, falling into the back of her throat.

He didn’t give her time to recover before hitting her again, in the eye this time.

And then in the temple. By the time he was done, she was completely unrecognizable … and dead.

Tristan was covered in blood splatter, not bothering to wipe it off. At this point, it was becoming a trademark for him.

“Clay’s going to have your ass for that,” Vincent pointed out, though he couldn’t stop the small grin from tugging at his lips.

Tristan shrugged, making his way across the room and depositing the hammer in one of the bins. “She didn’t follow the rules,” he said simply. “Clay will understand.”

Hazel was still trembling against me, her gaze fixated on the lifeless girl sprawled over the table.

I’d never seen her so shaken up before. This was the exact shit I’d tried so hard to protect her from.

It was too late for that now, though. She wasn’t a child, and she wouldn’t stay innocent.

She was doing a decent job of keeping herself alive by following rules and keeping her mouth shut, but I wondered … how long would that last?