Page 28 of The Ecstasy of Sin (Brutal Brotherhood #1)

Dominic

For the first time in my life, I’m trembling from something other than adrenaline and exertion. My entire body feels like a cord pulled too tight, vibrating with the need to snap.

The feel of Wren’s gentle, steady breaths puffing against my throat as she lies unconscious in my arms sends my mind spiraling into the blackest pits of my insanity.

It took everything I had to remain calm up until now—to not terrify her with the depth of my depraved obsession. To make her feel as safe as she truly is, despite my psychotic thoughts.

The raw, feral need to possess her, to own her, to keep her in my bed, and in my home where she’s safe, and healthy, and fed and fuckable and—I’m losing my shit.

With one arm secured around her back, pressing her tighter to me, I lift the other to stroke the outline of her heart-shaped face. She’s so fragile. So delicate and soft. Wren Holloway is everything I didn’t know I ached for.

A good man would be ashamed of what I’ve done, but all I feel is the euphoric rush of knowing she’s mine.

Watching her fight through her fear and panic only to surrender to me anyway… fuck , it has my chest aching like nothing else ever has. This feeling is foreign, but I never want it to stop .

She’s so relaxed in my embrace, but the cold is starting to tint the pale pink of her pillowy mouth. I slip off my newest leather jacket and wrap it around her, pulling her flush against my body to trap her against the heat radiating off me.

Reaching down, I grab my phone from the grass and pull up Ghost’s contact details.

It only rings twice before Ghost is answering, his voice thick with sleep. “Yeah?”

“Warrick.” My voice is low, but it shakes like I’m coming down from a brutal high.

He prefers his chosen name, but when I use his first, it triggers something in him. It tells him everything he needs to know; act first, ask questions later. And do it fast.

“Location?”

“West Avenue Park, north exit.”

“Coming.” He hangs up without another word, and I know he’ll get here as fast as traffic allows.

I take a few minutes to brush my fingers through Wren’s hair, untangling the mess from everything we did last night. I’m careful not to pull too hard, even though I know she couldn’t feel it if I did.

My beautiful girl. I’m going to give you everything.

I’m on my feet and heading for the small parking lot when Ghost pulls in, the bright light of a new day catching the glimmering black of his Dodge Challenger.

He gets out, saying nothing, as he rounds the car to open the back door for us .

Holding Wren tight, I slide into the dark interior and settle myself in the cool leather seat. I buckle myself in while Ghost comes back around and climbs into the driver seat.

He pulls out immediately, slipping through a few quiet side streets before merging into traffic on one of the main roads toward my place.

I catch his gaze in the rear-view mirror—those cold, pale blue eyes flicking between the road and me.

“Everything okay?”

I nod, then look down at Wren. She’s still quiet, breathing steadily, warming up now that we’re in Ghost’s heated car. “She had a panic attack, so I made the decision to give her the propofol.”

Ghost nods. “The stabilizer I added to her dosage means you have about thirty more minutes before she starts to wake up.”

I look out the heavily tinted window, scanning for street signs. We’re probably around fifteen minutes from my house. “Should be enough time.”

I look back at Wren, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. If she had a bad reaction to the drug, I’m not sure what I would have done. “I trusted you when you said propofol was the best option, Ghost.”

“Don’t worry. It’s fast-acting, and the body clears it quickly. She’ll be groggy for ten minutes, max. It’s not the kind of drug that leaves you feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

I nod again, then lift my eyes to meet his in the mirror. I hesitate, just for a moment, but he’s already watching me. “Thank you.”

“You know I’d die for you. ”

Yeah. I do.

***

When we arrive, I instruct Ghost to pull into the garage so the housewives out for their morning stroll don’t see me carrying an unconscious woman into my home.

I exit the car with Wren still in my arms and walk toward the door.

Ghost is already out, tapping the button to close the garage behind us, sealing us away from any curious eyes. He steps up next to me and reaches into my pocket to pull out my keys.

Hunter starts barking on the other side of the door; his deep, territorial alert. After issuing a stern warning to us, I hear him press his nose to the wood and inhale sharply.

Recognizing my scent, he lets out a soft whine of excitement just as Ghost slides the key into the lock and opens the door.

Hunter trails after me instantly, sniffing the woman cradled in my arms, his tail swishing low. Ghost steps inside and checks the whiteboard mounted beside the door.

I kick off my boots and head straight to the bedroom, laying Wren down in the sea of thick, silky black sheets covering my bed .

Ghost is speaking softly to Hunter, who responds with gentle, excited vocalizations as my brother crouches to give him affection.

I listen with a smile on my face as I remove Wren’s shoes, then slide her pants off. I place both on the floor at the foot of the bed, then pull the duvet over her, resting the edge along her collarbones.

When I step out of the bedroom, Ghost is standing at the sliding glass door in my kitchen. Hunter is outside in the fenced yard, his nose to the earth, sniffing along the edge where some forest critter must’ve passed recently.

Ghost is staring up at the thick line of trees marking the boundary of the large trail system behind me, watching the birds dip in and out of the old growth as they greet each other in the chilly morning breeze.

“Torin was here about three hours ago. Hunter should be good for the next couple hours.”

I nod, leaning over to press my shoulder into his. He immediately presses back against me. It’s a steady, grounding pressure—enough for me to take a long, deep breath.

None of us shy away from physical intimacy. It’s platonic, and it feels like home.

We spent every single night for years huddled on the same mattress to keep warm and protect each other while we were in foster care. We learned that touch meant comfort and safety, and that feeling never went away, even with age.

“You still fighting tonight?” he asks, watching Hunter.

I dip my chin. “Yeah. You’ll watch her? ”

“She’s one of us now. I’d die for her, too.”

Fuck.

I turn, pulling Ghost into my arms in a crushing hug. He chuckles under his breath, and embraces me with a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t let Ryker know we hugged without him. He’ll probably kill me in a jealous rage.”

I laugh, then release him. “He’s a whore for attention.”

Hunter trots back to the door, and I open it for him so he can come back inside. Ghost scratches him behind the ears one final time before turning and heading back towards the garage.

“Good luck,” he says quietly as he slips out the way we came in.

Hunter walks over to me with his tail wagging. I crouch down and pet him with both hands, fingers combing through the scruff of his neck. “That’s my good boy. Take a nap for me and keep the house safe while I get your new mom settled in, alright?”

I point toward one of the many dog beds scattered through the house, and he happily trots over and curls up on top of the expensive memory foam. Once he’s settled, I double-check his water dish—still full, thanks to Torin’s late-night visit—then head back into the bedroom.

Standing in the doorway, my breath catches at the sight of Wren settled in my bed, her hair fanned out across the plush pillow that’s cradling her head.

I walk over and tug my shirt up and over my head one-handed, tossing it onto the dresser. Before I do anything else, there’s something important I have to take care of .

I step inside my walk-in closet, not bothering with the light since I know what I’m after. Leaning down, I retrieve the small box tucked away in the back corner.

Box in hand, I walk back over to the bed and set it down beside her. I climb on top of the sheets and sit next to her.

She’s still unconscious. I pull back the duvet to expose her, my eyes roaming down her body. She’s wearing nothing but a worn out black t-shirt, her torn panties still tucked away in my back pocket.

Gently, I slide the arm closest to me away from her body and feel along the upper section until I find a spot near the back where she’s least likely to mess with it.

I flip open the box and tear the disinfectant wipe open with my teeth. After cleaning the area thoroughly, I pull out the needle, preloaded with the tracking device, and uncap it.

It doesn’t take long for me to inject the tracker and clean the area one more time, putting a butterfly bandage over the spot.

When she asks about it, I’ll tell her a spider bit her while she slept in my arms back at the park.

I’m willing to lie to her about this, if it means she won’t do something stupid like dig it out and disappear.

Once everything’s safely packed away, I carry the box into the kitchen to dispose of it. When I return, I pull out my phone and climb into bed beside her, slipping beneath the cool sheets.

I open the custom tracking app Ghost designed for the four of us. Four pins pulse on the map—our own implants. A fail-safe: none of us can be taken without the others knowing exactly where to find us .

I open a new tab and generate a private map with one singular pin.

A twisted smile creeps across my lips. From now on, I’ll always know where she is. Even if she loses her phone, or tries everything she can think of to escape me.

I’ll be with her always, when she wants it, and even when she doesn’t. She’ll never have to be alone again, not with her psychopathic stalker future husband to keep her safe.

I brush a stray tendril of hair away from her face, her lips parting slightly as a sigh slips from her mouth.