Chapter 25
LOGAN
Killian wasn’t kidding when he said he would find out how many lives these guys had in them.
At least when it comes to Wilmore. It must be two hours since he began his reign of terror, unleashing his all.
There have been moments when I considered intervening as he’s gone between his various torture contraptions, both men pleading for my help, hoping for a hint of mercy.
And while I sympathize with Hartlow’s terror, I suspect Wilmore knows more than he’s let on, and I won’t be satisfied until we get answers.
Wilmore and Hartlow lie limp on the floor.
It was pointless keeping them strung up after he broke their knees.
And now, as Killian places the defibrillator against Wilmore’s chest a third time, I’m certain he went too far, that there’s no chance of getting intel from him and that the best we’ll be able to do is give the Cronkites a scare.
I’m shocked when Wilmore wakes with a start, gasping for air. He’s so bloody, it looks like someone dumped a bucket on him.
“I can be merciful,” Killian says, straining the noose around his neck once more, stopping Wilmore from getting a decent breath in since he was resurrected. “I can let you end this with what dignity you have left. But you need to tell me why you sent those men.”
Hartlow whimpers, moaning out as Wilmore finally breaks, “Because I’m not who you think I am.”
This gives Killian pause, but I can’t help wondering if it’s a lie, a last-ditch effort to save his life.
“And who are you?”
“The world believes Kale Cronkite is my dad, but my real father was Heath Folcrum.”
The family Killian single-handedly destroyed after they almost extinguished his.
I’m taken aback by the confession, but either way, Wilmore must realize that regardless of what he says, he’s not leaving this room alive.
Killian’s eyes darken.
“I’ve been watching,” Wilmore rasps, “waiting for an opportunity to end you, and what better time than when the O’Dells are moving on and a Folcrum can take his rightful place as ruler over the underworld.”
Killian loosens the grip on the noose. “Your family killed my father, my brothers and sister, my mother, and tried to kill me.”
“And I was going to finish the fucking job. Total annihilation of the Lordes.”
“You never had to get involved in any of this. You could have lived a full life.”
“I’m a Folcrum. Vengeance is in my blood. And your name is written on my heart.” Wilmore doesn’t say that like a man who’s been terrified throughout this torment, but like a determined man on a mission.
“And now that your plan has failed?” Killian asks.
Wilmore grins. “Did you really think it would be this easy?” He chuckles, but then it morphs into a cackle, menacing and wild.
Killian strangles him again. “You. Will. Tell me.”
But the fury of Killian’s chokehold has Wilmore blacking out, and despite using the defibrillator, it’s evident this was the last for Wilmore.
When Killian sets his sights on his next victim, Hartlow trembles in his restraints, his cock looking like it’s about to crawl up into him. “Please no more. Please…I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Killian yanks him off the floor by the collar around his neck. “Tell me what you know, and perhaps I’ll make your death a quick one.”
“He said he knew the Lordes’ weaknesses, and that your failure to protect your greatest ally will show everyone in the underworld how weak you really are. That’s all I know. I don’t even know what it means.”
Killian’s eyes widen as he turns to me, clearly rattled. “Our greatest weakness is the kids,” Killian says. “The fucking kids.”
Malaki and Rory, fuck, he’s right. The rest of us have plenty of security, but because they’re not here, they have the fewest guys protecting them. I pull out my phone and text the group chat for Malaki’s and Rory’s security: CODE RED.
Killian takes out his phone, taking the same measures before asking me, “Is it done?” At my nod, Killian wipes his brow and pushes to his feet.
He’s demonstrated repeatedly that he cares about my family’s safety, and he can’t know what it means to see him, even in this heated moment where he’s driven by these dark instincts, considering us above his needs.
As he approaches me, I ask, “What are you doing?” since I expect him to finish the job.
But he smirks, saying, “I didn’t want to hog all the fun.”
My dark side fills with excitement at the promise of getting to exact my own punishment, especially now that I know what they did to Killian.
I only feel bad for Hartlow, who’ll be taking the punishment for what Wilmore had planned for my brothers too.
*
When I step out of the basement, into Killian’s study, I’m overwhelmed with emotion, partly from trying to hold myself back from helping Killian do the deed, partly from my efforts at ending Hartlow, but also because I find my cock hard as a stone from what we did.
This is one of the differences between Killian and me—he admits what he is and faces it, whereas I try to hide from it. Deny the demons I’m afraid to look at.
It reminds me of the day he saw that side of me, the way he didn’t so much as flinch the way I expect anyone else in my life would have if they knew the truth. Even more, he knew I wanted to participate, that I needed to, and he invited me to be myself with him.
I don’t know that many could understand what we just shared, but in many ways, I’d say it was better than fucking if I hadn’t learned how good fucking could be with him.
Killian steps out of the basement, still wiping his hands on a towel. Sweat covers his forehead, and he seems lost in a daze, the exhaustion that comes with that kind of torture.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and he snaps out of his state, his gaze meeting mine. He seems surprised I bothered to ask.
“We got what we needed. Once we make sure your brothers are safe, and word gets out about what we did, the rest will know we’re not ones to fuck with.” He removes an audio recorder from his pocket.
“Why do you have that?” I ask, gripped with guilt.
“I’ll have to send the Cronkites the part of the confession where Wilmore explains his grudge, to justify our actions.
It’ll hopefully be enough for them to see we aren’t the ones who began this war.
I’ll remove the part where you were torturing Hartlow.
Don’t worry. I wouldn’t expose that part of you to anyone else. ”
As always, I’m surprised by the moments when Killian chooses to be gentle with me, but I appreciate it.
Just like I appreciate the way he prioritized my family.
And while I have my personal feelings, sulking about a life I can’t ever have, the wiser part of me sees something else.
“This…passion you had in there…that’s what you’ll use to protect my family? ”
He winces, studying me in a way I struggle to read. “Of course. You belong to me, and I will protect you with my everything.”
Killian stating that I belong to him creates this tension in me, making me want to shout at him, “I belong to no one!” But another part of me speaks for me, “Say it again.”
A calm comes over him, not dissimilar to what I saw when he was torturing our victims. The energy he gives off fascinates me because of how quickly it can vacillate between the violent tantrum of a hurricane and the quiet of the eye within.
“You belong to me, and I will protect you with my everything.”
There’s no doubt in his words, no uncertainty. He’s full of misguided confidence because he must know that’s not something he can promise.
He moves closer, his gaze settling on my lips, and I want to run far away from him, but this beast inside me that wants to tear the world apart revels in being in his arms.
“That fight earlier,” he says. “I’m so confused about what you want from me. Don’t leave me in suspense, Log. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. Say the words, and I’ll do whatever you want. Tell me the truth—that you can’t bear being with me, knowing I’ll only trap you. That you want to be free.”
He’s moved so close, his lips are millimeters from mine, his hot breath electrifying me, pulsing desire right through me. Despite the chaos of passion that soars through me, there’s a clarity—I know what I want from him.
“I refuse to submit to you.”
His gaze sinks, his expression tensing, as though it was painful to hear me speak those words. He starts to turn away from me, like he wants to mask his pain, so I snatch his wrist, drawing his attention once more.
“You’ll have to take what you want from me,” I say, looking him dead in his dark eyes, and I could swear I see them darken even more.
Fear grips me now that he’s looking at me like the predator I know he is, now that I’ve seen what he’s capable of.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, his hot breath rushing against my lips. “Does my falcon need to be dragged to the earth and restrained?”
The part of me that knows I shouldn’t desire this echoes in the distance of my mind, but I don’t listen, I don’t care what it has to say.
“Unless you’re all talk.” I release him and spin away.
He moves swiftly, gripping my arm and shoving me against the wall, so powerfully that it takes me by surprise, makes me worry about the monster I might have unleashed.
In no time, his lips are on mine, his tongue invading my mouth, greedily probing, like he’s trying to claim every inch inside.
I give him a shove, but for a change, he’s not backing away so easily, so I push harder and deck him.
As soon as I do it, I feel like a real idiot because I know better than anyone what he’s capable of, and if he doesn’t understand my intentions, then God knows what he’ll do to get me back.
But when he looks up at me, his lip freshly bleeding, he smirks, assuring me he knows exactly what I’m asking of him.
He rushes me again, and I strike at him, but he restrains my wrists, shoving them back against the wall with me. “Was that the best you had?” he asks, leaning in for a kiss, so I rear my head back and butt him in the head.
We both curse from the intensity, but he doesn’t release me, and this time, he’s not smiling. He’s looking at me the way I saw him look at Hartlow and Wilmore.
Fuck, what have I done? Is tonight the night I die because of this fucked-up desire I can’t seem to deny myself?
“Cute,” he mutters with disdain before forcing another kiss.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I bite his bottom lip.
I only have the advantage for an instant before he releases my wrist and knocks me upside the head, and then it’s all a frenzy of fists and grabbing at each other until we’re rolling around on the floor.
I’m a wild animal, unleashing this primal creature that’s always been within me, letting it possess my body as Killian works to subdue me.
And for the first time since that night with Sik Vik, I feel alive.
Killian manages to get me on my stomach, pulling my arm back the way he did that first time he fucked me. He grabs hold of my pants, dragging them down with my boxers, exposing my ass.
No, I won’t go down so easily.
I absorb the burn and use the distraction to roll toward him, loosening his grip, so when I roll back the opposite direction, he loses hold of me.
It’s a short-lived victory because he seizes my pants, dragging me toward him, maneuvering me onto my back.
Holding my pants to the floor to keep my feet locked in place, he crawls onto my pants, and I sit up, taking another swing, clocking him in the jaw.
It’s like hitting a brick wall. It doesn’t stop him, only leaves him with an even more determined look as he grabs hold of the hem of my shirt, forcing it up, blocking my next attack.
He’s quick, locking the shirt at my wrists like he’s done this a thousand times before.
There’s a brief struggle as he tears off my pants.
I shift about, trying to gain some advantage, but he’s got a good hold on me, finally pinning my now-restrained wrists back against the floor.
He grins, as if mocking my attempts to escape him, which only makes me that much more determined.
“I told you you’re mine.” He keeps one hand firmly on my wrists and places the other over my throat. “Now, you gonna be nice when I kiss you this time?”
“Fuck off.”
He takes it, and I start to bite even before his lips are on mine, earning a forceful grip at my throat.
“Be nice,” he insists as he tightens his grip even more, though I know he has more in him than this.
He’s holding back for me, and that’s a mistake.