The Beautiful Dead (The Darkness Within #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

DOMINO

“ N o! No more, please… no more.”

The sharp point of my switchblade sliced through the skin of his fingertips—not too deep, but enough to make it feel like liquid fire was licking at his nerves. His hand twitched and jerked with every kiss of the blade, tiny beads of blood blooming against his skin. I watched, fascinated, as they slid down his fingers in rivulets of red, weaving between the fine hairs and pooling around the chains that bound his wrists.

Muffled whimpers bled into hollow screams, the echoes ricocheting off the damp concrete walls. The stench of bodily fluids and copper thickened the air—an odor that would send a weak man running in terror. But to me, this was home.

My playground.

A place where my monster could breathe. A world of my own design, where the rules of society held no power. Here, I stood above the law that the sheep so blindly followed. Here, I was judge, jury, and executioner.

No one was safe from the wrath of the DeMarcos.

No one was safe from me.

David—Davey—Rutter was the current object of my sadistic fixation. He hung limply, trapped in a never-ending cycle of disorientation and pain. His shoulders slowly separated under his hefty weight, tendons straining, ready to snap. Head thrown back, he howled, spittle flying from his lips as one of my—our—soldiers tightened the crank, raising him higher off the floor. It gave me easy access to his toes, where I gave them the same focused attention as his fingers.

My blade sliced through the layers of toughened skin like butter. His blood rushed to the surface quickly, aided by gravity and the fact that he’d been hanging for hours already.

No matter how much I wanted every crimson drop of his blood to spill across the tiled floor, to revel in the power of watching him take his final breath as the light faded from his eyes, I couldn’t… not yet. Rutter had information I needed—information my father had instructed me to extract by any means necessary. But I had to leave him alive. People would notice if the Chief of Police suddenly turned up as a mutilated bag of bones or disappeared altogether.

Breathing but irrevocably broken—that, I could do.

Sparing Rutter’s life would come at a price, one he had no choice but to pay: a life of servitude to the devil—Federico DeMarco. I had manipulated Rutter with bribes and blackmail until now, but it was time to show him why my name was feared above all, even my father’s.

Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette between my lips as I lit it and wiped the bloodied blade against my thigh. With a single nod, I motioned for one of the nameless soldiers to lower the crank, dipping his sliced toes into acidic lemon juice. Bracing my foot against the brittle wall behind me, I watched, motionless, enraptured by his suffering.

Rutter writhed in his restraints, the thick chains biting into his blood-slicked wrists. His tanned skin prickled with goosebumps in the frigid air. A blindfold covered his eyes, and noise-canceling headphones blared Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite interspersed with torturous moments of utter silence as I sliced into him in the semi-darkness.

“Make it stop. Make it stop…please,” he whimpered weakly, his chains rattling like some obscure puppet on a string.

A cruel smile flickered at the corners of my lips. He had no idea of the level of pain he was about to endure. All because he couldn’t do what he was told to do. Actions had consequences after all; it wasn’t like he hadn’t been warned what would happen if he stepped out of line.

The tip of his big toe brushed the liquid first. He flinched, gasping for breath, muscles rigid as the pain worked its way through his body to his brain. I tipped my head to the side and marvelled at the look of torture that broke across his face as he continued to descend.

“Legs!” I ordered.

Two of my men rushed toward Rutter, lifting the chained cuffs off the floor and securing them just above his ankles before tying them off. Now, he had no choice but to keep his feet immersed in the liquid.

Violent shudders wracked his body as both feet were forced down. Rutter gritted his teeth, blood seeping around them where they pressed into his cracked lips. A feeble attempt to hold back another scream—useless. It tore free, raw and jagged, punching out of his chest. Pain seared into each tiny cut on the soles of his feet. It probably felt like he was burning alive from the inside out. A hopeless whimper left his parched lips.

Fuck, he was a weak excuse for a man.

“He’s pathetic,” one of the soldiers chuckled, nudging the guy beside him, who nodded in agreement.

I shifted my gaze to them, arching a brow. Not that I disagreed, but he’d spoken out of turn.

“You think this is funny?”

The color drained from his face. His tanned complexion turned ghostly pale, and he shook his head with a wince. Smart. His silence was the only thing keeping him alive right now. I didn’t have time for men who acted like idiots. Working beside me was an honor few earned—fewer still survived. That wasn’t my fault.

I was my father’s son. Cold. Ruthless.

“Why don’t I tie you to a chair and do the same to your ass? Maledetto idiota! ”

“N-no, sir.” He shrank back, shoulders hunched, and slipped into the shadowed corner where the others waited for my command.

This was why I preferred working alone. My patience was a lit fuse, and people…people made simple things complicated. They wasted time, drained energy, and pulled me away from what I was meant to be doing. From spilling blood. From watching bodies go still, drained of life.

Smoke curled from my lips as I glared at them. The cigarette had burned down to the end, but instead of crushing it under my boot, I had a better idea.

I stepped forward, circling Rutter, sneering as urine trickled down his leg from his pathetic, flaccid cock. His broken whimpers grated on my last nerve. I slapped him hard, snapping his head to the side and forcing his focus back on me. He tried to anticipate my next move, but being unable to see me, his fear would override any logic left in his mind. I was everywhere and nowhere.

Power. Control.

The cigarette cherry sizzled against his exposed flesh, drawing another hoarse scream from his bloodied lips. The skin blistered, smoking as I pressed the ember deeper into his flabby gut. His body spasmed, but there was nowhere for him to go while he was trapped in my web.

Not until I decided.

Only when the embers finally died did I let the cigarette drop from my fingers. I relished every flinch, each futile thrash, every broken cry.

Pathetic.

“I can’t... I can’t take it anymore...”

I pulled a silver tin from my pocket, flipped it open, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it with a flick of my Zippo. The blue-yellow flame danced in the dim light, licking at the air between us. Rutter whimpered, his breath hitching as the heat singed the hair that covered his body.

This was the man entrusted to protect this city?

He wouldn’t last a single day in my world.

Exhaling smoke through my nose, I reached out, plucking the headphones from his ears. I pressed a button in my pocket, flooding the soundproofed room with the music he’d been tormented by for hours.

I cut the blindfold from his face. His eyes—wild and bloodshot—locked onto mine, insipid brown irises swallowed by terror.

The tip of my blade traced down his nose, over his lips, gliding lower until it hovered just below his neck. A single bead of red welled around the steel as I increased the pressure.

“You’re wasting your breath,” I said coldly. “No one’s coming.”

His panicked gasps filled the room. He rattled his chains harder, the clang of metal against metal blending with his desperate moans.

A chuckle rumbled in my throat, low and dark, curling my lips into something that barely passed for a smile. A fresh wave of goosebumps rippled across his skin—a visceral display of fear, so pure, so delicious.

If only his men could see him now.

So fucking pathetic .

My hand latched onto his jaw, blunt nails digging into clammy flesh. I leaned in, inhaling the sharp scent of his terror.

There was beauty in this—the fragile balance between life and death, hanging by a thread only I controlled.

His survival.

His agony.

Every ounce of his existence now belonged to me. And I liked holding that power. Releasing him, I stepped back, wiping his sweat and snot on my jeans.

“Do you know why you’re here?” I asked, tilting my head like I was speaking to a child.

He shook his head violently, sweat plastering graying hair to his temples.

“N-no.”

My gaze hardened. Rutter flailed helplessly, grasping for answers he wouldn’t get from me. Then— finally —recognition flickered in his hollow eyes. His brain was catching up.

“B-business… j-just business,” he croaked. “It’s nothing personal... DeMarco, please?—“

I laughed, the sound completely void of warmth. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

I leaned in, my breath ghosting against his sweat-damp skin. His shudder made a smirk strain my lips.

“Everything is personal.”

His face crumpled as the truth sank in.

I knew everything. Nothing he could say would change that. Watching him process it was like witnessing a car crash in slow motion—inevitable, brutal.

I pulled my switchblade from my jacket, the wolfs head handle gleaming under the dim light. The blade caught the glow, sharp and unforgiving. He whimpered, his entire body going rigid.

Good.

“Your officers arrested six of my men,” I said, my tone devoid of emotion, as if discussing the weather. “Six of my soldiers are rotting behind bars because you decided to play hero.”

I scraped the tip of the blade down his neck, tracing the delicate line of his carotid artery.

“You think you can interfere in my business and just walk away?” I murmured. “You seem to have forgotten who you work for, who truly holds the power in Marlow Heights, Chief .”

His lips trembled. “I-I can fix it. I’ll drop the charges. Please... I?—“

“Shhh.” I pressed the blade against his skin. A thin bloom of crimson welled beneath the pressure. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to play savior and erase the consequences.”

Control.

It thrummed through me, sharpening my senses. Every flinch, every ragged breath, fed something dark and primal inside me. He deserved this. They all did. A lifetime of lies and corruption finally balanced by the edge of my knife as I delivered my retribution.

I gripped his chin, tipping his head back, carving the blade through skin—slow, deliberate, shallow enough to sting but not maim. Blood welled up, glistening as his body spasmed against the restraints.

The music swelled, drowning out his hoarse screams as I dipped a finger into the lemon juice and traced the fresh wound.

“You have children, don’t you?” I asked conversationally.

His chin bobbed in a frantic nod, tears spilling down his face.

“Good.” I smiled. “Then you understand what it’s like to lose something you care about.”

His sobs grew desperate. “Please… I-I’ll do anything…”

“Then tell me—” I tightened my grip. “—why did you break our agreement?”

Rutter squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as much as he could in my grasp.

“Who paid you to raid my shipment?”

He froze. Every muscle in his body went taut. His head twitched in tiny, involuntary shakes, like a puppet with its strings tangled.

Ah. There it was.

The truth—rotting inside him like a corpse, waiting to be unearthed.

“Give me a name.”

“T-there is… n-no?—”

My hand cracked across his face, the wet slap echoing through the room. I wrenched his head back, fingers tangled in his damp hair, bending his neck at an unnatural angle.

“Do you think I’m stupid ?” I bellowed, spit flying.

“N-no…” he rasped. “I-I would… n-never…”

I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Remember this moment,” I murmured. “The moment you realized you were powerless. The moment your life stopped belonging to you. The moment you watched your child break before your eyes.”

His sobs turned frantic. “How... how can I stop this?”

“By following my rules.” The words settled between us like poison already swallowed. “And by giving me that name. It’s simple, really.”

The bloodied edge of my switchblade gleamed as I twirled it between my fingers. Rutter whimpered but stayed silent.

Disappointing. But not surprising.

They always thought they had a choice. They never understood the weight of their decisions—until I burned the consequences into their flesh.

At my signal, the last notes of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite faded into obscurity. Overhead, the grimy ceiling lights flared to life, making Rutter recoil.

Too bad. There was nowhere left to hide.

“Five…”

“Four…”

“Three… How is Ashley? He enjoying college?”

His spine snapped straight. “Y-you leave him out of this.”

“Why?” I smirked. “Are you going to save him? Protect him?”

I waited.

Waited for a father to value his son’s life over his own greed. Waited for him to fight for something other than himself.

But… nothing.

“Two… Last chance. Give me a name.”

If I had a heart, it might have broken for the boy. But empathy? Emotion? They were foreign languages to me. Instead, I exhaled a soft, measured breath.

“One.” The number rang out like a death knell. “ Bring him in.”

The guards nodded and left the door open. I wanted Rutter to hear it, and the moment his son’s screams echoed down the damp corridor, something inside him shattered.

“NOOOOO! You leave him alone!”

His cries meant nothing. He’d been given a choice and spit in its face.

And now, he had to live with that.

Ashley’s scream tore through the room, and for the first time, Rutter went silent. His head jerked toward the open doorway, his body straining against the cuffs. “G-get off me!”

A smile spread across my lips, my cock thickening.

I loved it when they fought back, watching their eyes widen as they realized it wasn’t an act, that the hunger in me was real.

I could have a willing body anytime—at twenty-five, I’d had more than enough of easy.

The sound of my belt buckle unfastening jolted Rutter back to life. His shattered brown eyes locked onto my hand as I toyed with my zipper.

Then, his gaze met mine—widening in horror—giving me exactly what I craved.

“N-no. Anything but that.”

A hollow chuckle left my lips. I shook my head.

“Too late for that now.”

He broke completely then, blubbering nonsense about second chances and forgiveness.

Begging.

Pleading.

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

His fear sang louder than any plea ever could.

Straightening, I pocketed the blade just as Ashley was dragged into the room. The boy hit the ground hard, shoved to his knees at my feet.

“No,” Rutter sobbed, eyes bulging. “Don’t you dare fucking touch him.”

He thrashed violently, blood pooling around his wrists where the cuffs bit into flesh.

“You shouldn’t have tried to be a hero, Chief. ”

Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his body shook so hard he could barely breathe.

The acrid scent of urine burned my nose. I inhaled deeply, letting the rush settle into my bones.

My blood sang as he suffered.

Rutter’s pupils were blown black, the whites nearly red from burst capillaries. His terror filled the room, thick as smoke.

I let it feed me. Let it consume me.

And fuck, it was intoxicating.

Ashley trembled at my feet, his bound hands curled into fists against the cold concrete. Blood bloomed across his split lip in perfect contrast to his pale, unblemished skin.

I crouched beside him, letting my fingers ghost over his curls before gripping a fistful of his hair and wrenching his head back.

His breath hitched.

“Look at him, Chief.” My voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “Look at your son. Your blood. Your legacy.”

Rutter’s entire body convulsed against the restraints. “Please?—”

I tugged harder, forcing Ashley’s neck to arch, exposing the frantic pulse beating just beneath the surface.

“You’re going to give me that name now.”

A strangled sob wrenched from Rutter’s throat. “I—I can’t?—”

I sighed, almost disappointed.

Then, with deliberate slowness, I ran my thumb across Ashley’s trembling lower lip, smearing the blood that had pooled there. His whole body jerked.

“You know,” I mused, tracing the curve of Ashley’s jaw with the flat of my blade, making him flinch at the touch of cold steel. “I never cared much for mercy. I find it… wasteful. You know what I do like, though?” I continued, my lips brushing his ear. “Breaking beautiful things.”

“You know what I do like, though?” I continued, my lips brushing his ear. “Breaking beautiful things.”

Ashley whimpered before Rutter screamed, “NO! STOP! PLEASE, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

The raw agony in his voice was exquisite. I trailed the knife lower, pressing the tip against Ashley’s collarbone, just hard enough to dimple the skin. The boy shook violently, his gasps ragged, erratic.

“One name,” I whispered.

Rutter choked on a sob. “I-I swear, I d-don’t?—”

I rolled my eyes, the blade sinking just deep enough to draw a single ruby bead of blood. Ashley yelped, his body twisting against the guards’ hold. I swiped it up with my finger, dragged it across his lips, and pushed up to my feet. My eyes fixed on the trembling boy at my feet as I pulled my throbbing cock out of my jeans and slowly stroked it.

Ashley recoiled, but his eyes tracked every move of my hand. I watched Rutter come apart as I traced the tip of my cock along his son’s lips.

“STOP! STOP I-I’LL TELL YOU!”

I stilled.

Rutter sagged against the cuffs, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. “Please,” he whispered, “Just… just let him go.”

I smirked, sinking my fingers further into the boy’s curls and tightening my grip. “Open,” I ordered quietly. The room fell silent as the grave as he followed my command without question. Soft pink lips parted for me, and I rested the tip on his tongue.

“If you bite me, I will kill you.”

The boy’s eyes widened in fear and resignation, but the slight movement of his head let me know he understood. Tightening my hold, I thrust all the way to the back of his throat with a snap of my hips and lost myself in the wet heat of his untouched mouth. Rutter screamed, turning rabid as I fucked Ashley’s throat raw, starved him of oxygen while tears streamed down his face.

“Fuck!” I grit out, euphoria dancing through my blood.

“GET THE FUCK OFF HIM. I’LL KILL YOU.”

My head fell back on my shoulders as I laughed.

“You will do exactly as I say.” I yanked the boy’s head until his nose was buried against my groin and held him there while Rutter seethed.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I will,” I said simply. “Because if you step a foot out of line again, I will come for your wife. Mary.” Rutter blanched. “The twins, Jane and Jessica.”

“No,” he whispered brokenly.

“Then I’ll leave Ashley’s body in your trunk for you to find.”

Rutter whimpered, the fight drained from him completely. “Y-you, win.”

“Name.”

A pause.

Then, barely above a breath— “Calloway.”

The name slithered through the air, curling around my senses like a serpent.

I chuckled, low and dark.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I pulled my cock from Ashley’s mouth and grunted as thick ropes of cum lashed over his face.

Rutter gasped, his head dropping forward, his entire body defeated.

I hummed, basking in the afterglow before pushing the boy away like a discarded plaything. The guards caught him before he hit the ground, but the boy had already gone limp—spent, ruined, utterly broken.

I flicked my knife clean, watching Rutter’s tears fall freely, his face a portrait of utter devastation.

I drank it in, savoring it.

The agony.

The submission.

The end of a man who once thought himself untouchable.

I smirked as I tucked myself away and dialed my father’s number.

“Is it done?”

“Yes.”

“Name?”

“Calloway. A Gallo enforcer.”

“Fuck! Get it done.”

The line went dead, and I knew my night wasn’t over yet. No one would be left standing in our way. I’d pick the Gallos off one by one if I had to because Marlow Heights was ours.