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9

KALEB

T he syringe that was delivered to my door before I left the house today is in the pocket of my hoodie. The street I walk into is dark, yet not empty.

People walk past me, ignoring my mask.

They’re as inconsequential as the bloodstain I couldn’t remove from the Davis’s queen-size bed.

Only Shiloh.

The face-off we held earlier had my muscles straining. My teeth ground to the point they might crack.

She looked so beautiful out there. My stepsister. My prey.

Her lips were parted. Her eyes glistened before she squinted them in anger.

I could swear I heard her heart beating. Could feel it as if I had it in my palm.

Impossibly loud. Deafening.

A calling I couldn’t answer.

And her goddamn friend is to blame .

Marina. I remember the brown-haired rich bitch. She dropped Shiloh over once when her dad’s drivers—the three of them—were down with the flu. Right after I moved in and before the end of the school year.

That day, I looked out the window, hating that I couldn’t drive. That I couldn’t take her. The staff in the house we lived in locked the garage when they’d caught me driving one of the many cars Shiloh’s dad had owned out to the driveway. Without a driver’s license.

It was nice of Marina. Resentment seared through my body, regardless.

I had to watch Shiloh climb out of someone else’s Bentley. Someone else had taken care of what was mine.

I can drive just fine now. It’d taken me years to convince Dr. Reynolds to sign off on driving classes and a driver’s license. In exchange, I offered him ten minutes of talking about my abusive, dead father.

“Take me home.” Shiloh does her best to sound brave. Calm.

The syringe practically vibrates in my palm.

The syringe I landed for her. For our games.

After I eliminate the threat.

The girls’ chatter fades as I walk in the opposite direction, moving through the streets and then alleyways to where I parked Elron’s car.

The ride to her home is uneventful. To avoid being detected, I drive through back alleys. The traffic is lighter that way, too, so no wonder I get there before them. Shiloh’s apartment is bathed in darkness .

She’s out there.

My woman and the bitch who doesn’t want me anywhere near her.

Won’t be the first time someone tells her to stay away from me.

“Shiloh, what the hell did I tell you?” her dad bellowed, his voice sharp through the thick walls.

My mother wasn’t there to tell him to shut up. She’d never been there to stick up for her stepdaughter. She’d hide somewhere around the house, pretending to be asleep.

I was there. As soon as the bastard started raising his voice, I tore the door of my bedroom open. I’d been sleeping that night when he came to her room. Only had my sweats and my T-shirt on. No mask. No time to pull it over my head.

Fighting sleep, I moved slower than I would’ve liked.

But I moved.

I’d always haul ass for her.

I’m coming, Shiloh.

“What now?” She sounded strong for an eleven-year-old. Fierce. “What do you want?”

My feet thumped on the carpet.

“Wasting your goddamn time with that freak and his goddamn mask.” When he shouted shit like that about me, I figured Mom wasn’t just hiding. He’d probably given her one of her many sleeping pills. Made her his own version of Sleeping Beauty. Guess she liked it better than getting beat up every other day. Not like I gave a fuck about her. “Don’t you dare try to deny it. I saw you on the camera app today. ”

The motherfucker had a camera in her room. Should’ve realized it sooner. Controlling psycho.

“He’s not a freak.” At the sound of her tiny roar, I halted in place. It reminded me of Simba from that “Lion King” movie she’d made me sit through a few days ago. “Stop calling him that!”

I was sure I was hearing her wrong.

“But he is!”

“He’s my brother!”

Yes, I heard her perfectly fine. She stood up for me.

When it put her at risk.

When it could cost her.

She screamed at him while I wasn’t there to protect her.

Defending me.

Something that felt a lot like warmth filled my chest. It hurt, that crack in my ribs.

“I’ll call him whatever I please,” he thundered, tearing me out of my trance. Of my awe. “This is my house, and you’ll do well to remember that.”

I swallowed up the distance between us in six large steps.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She had her hands curled into fists by the time I stood at the doorway. A little ball of fire, stomping and baring her teeth. Her blue eyes blazed. This fucking awe swept over me all over again. “He’s not a freak! He’s. My. Brother!”

“The hell he is.” Fucker’s arm raised. Palm open.

He was launching forward to strike her.

I was faster. Meaner. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him out of the room. Locked Shiloh and me inside until he quit banging on the door. Until his empty threats about sending me to boarding school simmered into nothing .

Deep down, he loved my mother. Deep down, she knew she owed me.

It’d been her one request entering this marriage. Keep her son under the same roof as her.

A brand-new Porsche pulls up to Shiloh’s building as the memory fades. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen climbs out of the passenger side. Her expression is stony as she waves at Marina.

She’s gorgeous. Infuriatingly gorgeous.

Smiles are overrated.

A person’s genuine expression, that’s real. That’s raw.

That’s my wounded, broken Shiloh. The woman I want to tear apart and put back together again. Until my lungs are no more and my bones turn to dust.

Before I do, though…

Marina speeds off, the Porsche’s obnoxious motor roaring in the quiet neighborhood.

I take off after her.

Minutes pass. I keep a three-car distance between us. Trailing her silently through dark streets into a part of the city I’ve never been to.

My brow furrows when she pulls up to the curb in one of the alleys. What the fuck? This rundown neighborhood isn’t anywhere I’d expect Marina to visit.

Ever.

The street lamps flicker. Trash bags overflow the pavement. The stores are closed and barricaded by roller shutters. The city’s surveillance cameras are nowhere to be found .

Out of every squeaky-clean, picture-perfect part of Seattle, she chose to come here.

She really shouldn’t have, but you won’t see me complaining.

The less evidence of what I’m going to do to her, the better.

No one will frame me for this murder.

Then again…Shiloh will figure out I did it.

Her soon-to-be-dead friend’s finger will give me away.

She’ll be upset. Outraged. She’ll accuse me of being a murderer. Of not doing what she said, like hiding. Fuck hiding.

And fuck her. In the literal sense.

My cock jerks at the image of her getting riled up and telling me no.

The fire in her eyes. Her fight. She’ll hate me and curse at me, which will be the perfect fucking moment to shove my dick inside her.

For that to happen, I need to get this show underway. I grab a pair of gloves out of the box I threw in here earlier and shove Elron’s Zippo and my new wool hat into my hoodie pocket.

The syringe stays here. That treat isn’t meant for Marina.

I’m about to leave, my hand already on the handle.

It stays there.

The reason Marina is here has revealed itself.

A guy about her height jogs out of a building toward her. He wears a green army jacket, gray sweatpants and has a wool hat on .

She gets out of the car when he knocks on her window, throwing herself at him.

Their lips lock. His hands tangle in her hair and her body presses to his.

In no time at all, he flips her over and yanks her jeans down her thighs.

She’s smiling into the night, offering him her ass while he pushes his sweats down. He takes what she’s giving to him, shoving himself inside her. Pounding her against the car.

This is the second time I kill people while they’re in the act.

My hard-on is as good as gone. My dick is as loyal as I am. There’s only one woman I want to see naked. Only one woman I want to have above me, beneath me, all the fuck around me. And it’s not Marina.

God, I miss Shiloh. She’ll cry again when I put the syringe to good use.

Can’t wait.

I should’ve been out of the car by now. Something must be seriously wrong with me, because I consider aborting my mission. To let them fuck each other undisturbed.

I would, except Marina is all about cockblocking me.

Unlike Val, Marina—whose hair is being pulled as we speak—won’t let me have my sickening ever after.

I say you should have the police put someone outside your home. They’ll arrest him on the spot.

Meddling bitch. She’s earned it.

The guy who’s going to get caught in the crossfire?

Well, well. Whoever said life is fair was wrong .

Dead fucking wrong.

The new boots I got this morning don’t make a sound as I cross the street toward the couple.

The guy flipped Marina’s face to the other side while I was watching them. His mouth is in her ear.

They’re too absorbed in each other to see me coming.

“Deeper, deeper. Yes, Branden, yes.”

“Say my name again, you rich slut.” The sounds of flesh slamming into metal echo through the empty street. “Tell Daddy how bad you want his cock.”

“Yes, Daddy.” The harder he presses her cheek to the car, the louder she gets. “Fucking own me with your cock. Yes. Yes. Fuuuck .”

He won’t be praising her for doing what he said. Won’t own her with his cock .

Not for lack of wanting.

One of my hands is wrapped around his throat from behind, yanking him back. His dick hangs in the cold Seattle air while I use my free hand to stick a thumb into his eye.

“W-what the fuck,” he groans. His body goes numb, the shock sucking the air out of his lungs. Sharp, unexpected pain would do that to a person. “Marina, Mar. Help.”

“Branden?” She’s breathless, rushing to pull up her jeans.

It’s either fear or surprise that keeps her staring forward as I strangle her man. While I squeeze the life out of him.

“Mar.” The choked sound barely reaches my own ears. Pop and I’ve invaded his eye socket. Blood soaks my glove. I tilt my hand so it won’t reach my hoodie. “Mar.”

“I have money.” Shakily, she raises her hands .

I don’t blame her for taking the cowardly way out. I wouldn’t want Shiloh tackling a stranger in the night, either.

“I—Please, I’ll give you everything,” she screams, tears leaking out of Branden’s remaining eye. “I won’t even call to report that my credit cards have been stolen. Here. Take this.”

A tennis bracelet flies in the air. Diamonds sparkle as they land on dark asphalt.

Fuck her money.

He convulses in my hold. Strains. Three, two, one and bye-bye. Last breath. Curtain call.

Limp. Dead.

The obstacle standing between me and this bitch has officially been eliminated.

“There’s more where that came from.” She shudders hard enough that her teeth knock together. A stark contrast to the woman who strutted around outside Shiloh’s campus, full of herself. “I have the password to my dad’s safe. We’re loaded. I swear. I swear. You can have everything.”

When I hurl her boyfriend to the side, she shrieks. Flinches.

The abrupt movement causes her to look down. Her eyes land on the passenger’s window.

In the dim light of the street, she sees my reflection in it.

I gloat as realization dawns in her eyes, wrapping her hair around my gore-covered gloved hand.

“No! Kaleb!”

Satisfaction rolls through me. She knows I’m the one bashing her head into the car. I’m the one who’s cracking her skull open. Me .

“Stop! Help! Stop! It hurts! Why?”

I can’t be bothered with explanations. She should know by now that she’s a meddling bitch and deserves to die.

“I—” Cough . Her lips have turned the color red, glistening with her own blood. “Please.”

Her pleas go unanswered. I’m not the forgiving type. I don’t stop, destroying her face one bashing at a time.

No one comes to her rescue. In this crappy neighborhood, this shit must happen all the time.

At last, Marina lets go and departs this world. The air leaves her lungs in a vapor that sticks to the window for all of a second. I pop open her trunk, throwing her and her boyfriend there.

Oh. Almost forgot about this.

I reach in for her hand. Push her shoulder down. Yank on her finger.

Twist. Twist. Snap.

Another memento for Shiloh. I stuff it into my pocket, set the wool hat on fire, and shove it into the fuel tank.

Bye, bye.

A loud-as-fuck explosion goes off behind me. Heat licks up my back on this otherwise cold night.

In the car, I take a moment to appreciate my creation. Orange and red flames devour the darkness. Smoke coils upward, slithering into the sky.

My job here is done.

But my night isn’t.

Shiloh sleeps like the dead .

I know, because I’d spent many nights watching over her.

Tonight, I’m hovering over her bed for a different reason.

I raise my hand over her angelic face, almost touching her. My sweet stepsister. My unsuspecting Shiloh. She hasn’t locked her balcony’s sliding door. Again.

She thought I came in through the door last time. I’m responsible for her misconception. When I walked out that way this morning, I meant to trick her. Apparently, it worked.

The asshole who’s supposed to be keeping tabs on her snores in the bushes, so he hasn’t seen me climbing up her balcony.

Enough about him.

Her. I’m here for her. Fuck, isn’t she adorable. Curled up into a ball in her bed instead of the closet. Clutching onto one of her pillows tonight, instead of my mask.

It has to be her way of telling herself that she doesn’t care that I hurt her. That she truly hates me.

She can lie to herself all she wants. She can keep acting like I forced her this morning.

I’ll drag the truth out of her.

Forcefully. Painfully.

That’s why I’m here, after all. To be this person in her life.

Her nightmare.

After placing Marina’s finger on Shiloh’s nightstand, I pull the covers off her. I’m hard in a second. The moonlight permeates through the window, casting a silvery glow on her half-naked body.

In nothing but a white T-shirt and matching panties, she’s a sight .

My hands ball into fists, clenching and unclenching at my sides. I’m dying to sink my dick inside her. Wake her up with my shadow snuffing out the light around her. My cock soaked in her hymen blood.

A low roar rises in my throat. I lean over and bite the inside of my cheek. Pull back.

Fucking her isn’t on the menu tonight.

Gifting her Marina’s finger is.

Keeping her guessing. Being scared of me.

That’s what I’m here for.

But goddamn it, I want it. Her. Crying. Screaming. Her soaked pussy and to have her begging me for something, anything.

I haven’t had any practice before. Never touched anyone else or thought about making them come. But my body, heart, and whatever’s left of my soul are so in tune with Shiloh. So connected to her.

I know exactly what she wants, even when she doesn’t.

I’ll give it to her.

God. Fuck.

This primal need inside me, this hunger, it burns.

Her pretty cunt pulsed around my fingers this morning. I did that to her.

Me.

Every cell in my body aches to have that again.

She said she didn’t want it. Didn’t want me putting myself at risk .

Fresh anger swirls through me. It gets me hard, resenting her for it. For pushing me away. For thinking I’d be stupid enough to get caught a second time.

My eyes slide over her face. The soft curve of her jaw. Closed eyes.

Slowly, the anger in me is silenced. Gone.

She’s done nothing wrong.

But it doesn’t mean we’re done here. Oh, hell no.

I have to step up our games and my resolve.

Through pain and power, she’ll see reason.

In a few days, she’ll stop denying me anything.

It’ll be hard to say no when she’s as addicted to me as I am to her very essence. Once my claws have sunken too deep into her.

This— me —is the end of the road for her.

I unbutton my jeans, roll down my zipper. Can’t take another second of my painful erection. Can’t stay here, at her side, without touching myself.

Fuck . Yes. My eyes roll to the back of my head when I fist myself. I swallow a groan, looking at her. Really focusing on her this time. Her pouty lips. Her hair that rests on the curve of her slender neck.

Her naked legs. I’ll have those wrapped around me.

They’re smooth. Soft. Unharmed.

I’ll have to rectify that last part.

Goddamn you, Shiloh, for making me feel .

It’s torture, stroking my cock when I’m desperate to shove it down her throat. It’s painful as fuck to have my hand squeeze it. I need it to be her lips closing around me. Sucking. Hurting me.

For now, all I have is my hand, so I stroke myself. Going slow, making it painful as I rub from root to tip.

In my fantasy, I have her mouth around me. I’d be the first man she sucked.

I love that she’s as inexperienced as I am.

She’d bite or graze her teeth along my length. Precum would trickle down her throat—that’s how much I’d welcome the pain. I’d twist my body, would reward her by spitting and circling her clit. I’d do it like I did this morning. I’d get her off. I fucking know it.

While she moaned for me. Cried for me.

The air in the room shifts as the movie in my head changes. I picture myself between her legs. I’d have one of her breasts in my palm, rolling her pink nipple between my fingers.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

More precum leaks from the tip. I rub it with my thumb, the friction of the barbell making my balls tighten.

If I could, I’d tear her panties right off her. Use my tongue to study her pleasure points. My cock. My fingers.

Toys. So many of them.

She’d come so many times that she’d drench her sheets. My face. My tongue.

She’d be driven to the brink of insanity. I’d force her to leap off it.

With me.

My chest tightens. My hips thrust into my hand.

She’d say no again, and I’d fuck the defiance out of her .

I’d pump her full of seed. I would. She’d be swollen with my babies.

Mine.

That image of owning her so thoroughly is what gets me off.

This. This is fucking it. Emptying myself on her lips and cheeks. Marking her. It’s the best thing, the sweetest pleasure.

That was only the beginning, though. A way to take the edge off.

I’m not done here.

Give me a goodnight kiss, sister , I tell her.

In my head, of course.

Shiloh lets out this tiny huff to the wet head I press to her lips, making me hard all over again.

Such a good girl.

One kiss to her pussy. Her last reward for tonight.

She’ll have more of me soon enough.

Soon, the air she breathes will have a name.

That name is Kaleb.