Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
19 YEARS LATER-CHICAGO
B ryson smashed Seth’s face into the carpet.
Leaning down, Bryson let his tongue glide along the ink etched into Seth’s neck—the marks that made him his. He followed the coiled serpent, tracing its winding path up and around the Winters’ snowflake crest, before carefully licking over each letter of the word branded above it.
‘OWNED’
Seth whimpered beneath him, trembling under the weight of Bryson’s control.
He always looked so fucking pretty when he was bound and pathetic.
“You’re too easy, Killer,” Bryson murmured against his skin.
The nickname was half affection, half reminder. Out of their little triad, Seth had the fewest sanctioned kills with the Nine. Only one. But that didn’t make him soft.
Seth was a surgeon with pain. Swift with a blade, precise with a pistol. He could make a man scream for hours. Bleed him slow, psychological.
Bryson or Kaydon usually handled the clean kill. Seth preferred his victims begging .
“I think he needs a little reminding of who’s in charge here.” Kaydon’s sharp tone was punctuated by the sound of a large wooden paddle being dragged across Seth’s already very red bottom. Bryson sat down next to Seth. Pulling him into his lap, Bryson wrapped his hand around Seth’s neck.
Seth’s pale blue eyes stared up at him, his tousled blond hair wet with sweat. Bryson felt his pulse and gave him a once over.
Past Seth’s shoulder, Kaydon squared off, ready to give Seth his final punishment strokes.
Kaydon, the bulkier of the three, was Bryson’s Right Hand. Chosen for the assignment at a young age, Kaydon approached the job with an annoyingly serious attitude.
His broad frame flexed just prior to the swing, hazel eyes narrowing in on their target.
Thwack.
Seth jolted in Bryson’s arms.
“Count,” Bryson said mercilessly.
“One!” Seth breathed into the room, but the damage was done.
Kaydon clicked his tongue. “Tsk tsk, we don’t count the ones where we forget the rules, do we?”
Tears swam in Seth’s eyes. He could handle pain, but failing was a far greater challenge.
Bryson locked eyes with Kaydon, narrowing his gaze, having no difficulty conveying his displeasure.
Keep it up, Kaydon, and you’ll be on the floor next.
The years they spent together fostered a deep understanding, and Kaydon flushed under his stare.
Bryson met Kaydon in childhood, and the two quickly became best friends. They met Seth in their teens, doing jobs for Bryson’s father. Back then, they had been inseparable, and not much had changed as adults.
Thwack .
Seth tensed in his arms.
“One,” he shouted.
Bryson ran his fingers through Seth’s damp hair, calming him.
Thwack.
“Two!”
The noise continued for a few more administrations, but after five, Kaydon dropped the paddle, and Bryson flipped Seth over easily, his face stained with tears. Kaydon took Seth’s cock into his mouth and sucked greedily. Seth fluttered his heavy eyelids.
“You like that, don’t you, Killer?” Bryson asked.
Seth nodded lazily, red marks still around his neck from Bryson’s hand. Seeing the haze in his expression, Bryson fisted Seth’s hair. Pulling his head back, he watched as a little clarity came into Seth’s eyes.
“Let me hear how much you like it,” Bryson said.
Seth flushed, but a soft moan escaped his lips.
Bryson observed Kaydon working Seth. His head and lips moved up and down Seth’s erection with various tempos. Bryson tugged at Seth’s hair whenever he grew too quiet. He liked his brothers’ vocalizations with their pleasure and pain.
Kaydon had his own brand of torture. When Seth appeared on the edge, Kaydon would slow down to a snail’s pace and then, once Seth regained some composure, engulf him deeply in his throat, moving up and down as if it were his final feast.
Seth whimpered, his body trembling in Bryson’s arms, the tension in him reaching a breaking point.
Bryson looked down, taking in the flush of Seth’s cheeks, the glassy sheen in his eyes, the way he shook.
“You look adorable,” Bryson murmured.
Seth bristled, but didn’t argue. He couldn’t.
Bryson knew Kaydon wasn’t planning to let Seth come. To Kaydon, this was punishment, discipline for losing count. But to Bryson, Seth had earned something sweeter. He’d been such a good little killer.
And Kaydon had pushed him too far.
In the BDSM world, enforcing protocol was standard. Miss a count, and you paid for it. But in their triad, they were trying to build up Seth’s confidence, not hurt it. If Kaydon wanted people to be perfect, maybe it was time he learned what it felt like to be pushed toward perfection himself.
A subtle shift tightened Bryson’s jaw. His eyes darkened. The atmosphere changed.
Kaydon excelled at the art of giving head. Even while deep-throating, he could breathe through his nose and rarely needed to stop for air. Bryson honed in on the flair of Kaydon’s nostrils. Giving Seth a soft kiss on the forehead, he released him and moved toward Kaydon, who didn’t notice until it was too late. A firm grip on the back of his neck, followed by a pinching of his nostrils. Kaydon tried to resist beneath him. His body instinctively trying to take a breath. He was larger and stronger, but his current position paled in comparison to Bryson. Putting a knee in between Kaydon’s shoulder blades, Bryson secured his footing.
In a low voice, Bryson said, “Keep going. You don’t breathe until he comes.”
Kaydon stilled under the command but then started to work the length of Seth again.
Seth’s long eyelashes fluttered open during the commotion, locking eyes with Bryson.
Bryson chided, “You better come, Killer, or your brother’s gonna die sucking your dick.”
Kaydon, who loved a challenge with stakes, moaned into Seth. That pushed Seth over the edge. Bryson watched as he convulsed, screaming into the room.
Good boy .
Bryson waited for Seth to still before releasing Kaydon.
Kaydon fell to his side, coughing and gasping for air.
Leaning over, Bryson whispered into Seth’s ear, “You gonna be okay for a sec? Mommy and Daddy have a few things to discuss.”
Seth gave him a dopey smile and nodded. Bryson gave him a visual pat down. He would need some cuddly aftercare, but for now, he was in good condition.
Standing, he moved to tower over Kaydon, who was still catching his breath. Dealing with Seth differed from dealing with Kaydon, but Bryson had no issues topping him. The give and take was as much mental as it was physical.
Kaydon’s long sandy-brown hair was styled in its traditional half bun. Aiming for the center mass, Bryson tangled his fingers into the surprisingly soft locks. Clawing into Kaydon’s scalp, Bryson dragged him across the room. Kaydon, still catching his breath, scrambled to get his footing.
“What the fuck, man?” Kaydon growled, straightening until they stood toe to toe.
While just as tall, Bryson’s Romanian frame was lean, his figure feminine, while Kaydon’s biceps were as big as Bryson’s head. But this wasn’t about size or strength. It was a battle fought in the mind.
And a battle of wills was a fight Bryson always won. Not only because his life depended on it, but because he had a gift for it. Intuitively, he understood what made people tick and was able to use that against them.
As such, the colder tone conveyed through “pants off” was more palpable than audible. Unlike Seth, Kaydon needed him in full Dominant mode in order to submit, and even then, Kaydon loved to resist. Which was fine, because Bryson loved to push .
Kaydon stared back at him, his breathing still recovering, indecision in his eyes.
Try me.
Finally, Kaydon moved, his eyes never leaving Bryson’s as he pulled his belt and unzipped his shorts, allowing them to fall to the ground with a thud. Bryson waited.
Kaydon peeled down his black briefs and stepped out. Now it was impossible for him to hide his intense excitement. Not that Bryson needed the confirmation. He let his eyes rake over Kaydon’s body, stopping at all the right places.
In the Nine, each family had their own brand, and the Winters were represented by four alternating swords. Kaydon had all the required family tattoos on his skin, including the Winters’ brand just above his heart.
Bryson appreciated Kaydon’s body, the strength and power it housed, and damn, it turned him on to own that.
“Turn around,” Bryson said.
Kaydon obeyed. Bryson stepped in behind him, slow and deliberate. He dragged a finger along the back of Kaydon’s thigh, letting it rest just above the swell of his hip.
Kaydon was strong. He barked orders, cracked jokes, led like he was born to do it. But when someone took the reins, really took them, Kaydon gave in with a beautiful kind of desperation.
He loved to be dominated. Loved being pushed off his axis.
And Bryson? He knew just how to send him reeling.
Breathing over his neck, he whispered into Kaydon’s ear, “Kneel.”
At the foot of the bed, Bryson guided him, firm hand at his back, until he folded over—torso to mattress, hips up, arms at his sides .
Bryson stood over him, watching his shoulders rise and fall.
The clink of Bryson’s belt being removed was followed by the grind of his zipper. Each article of clothing removed was punctuated with a soft thud. Bryson wanted Kaydon to hear him getting undressed.
Glancing over his shoulder, Bryson checked on Seth, who lay with his eyes half closed, watching them, a relaxed smile drifting across his face.
Lubing up, Bryson grabbed Kaydon’s right arm and pushed it painfully high on his back. Kaydon’s body didn’t offer any resistance.
Bryson said, “You’re so pliable right now. Such a needy slut.”
With his free hand, Bryson gave Kaydon a sharp slap on his ass. Kaydon pressed his face into the mattress, settling in.
Bryson continued to spank him. His hand burned with each contact as electricity thrummed through his body, and he watched Kaydon’s ass turn pink underneath him. Reaching around, he encircled Kaydon’s shaft and squeezed.
Kaydon attempted to hide it, trying to muffle his moan with the comforter, but the sound of his pleasure could not be mistaken.
Bryson clicked his tongue and pressed Kaydon’s right arm up even higher. Kaydon hissed, his body arching, trying to relieve the pressure.
“I like to hear you, remember?” Bryson said.
He waited for the response he knew wouldn’t come. “No? Well, that’s too bad. I was feeling generous today.”
He dropped Kaydon’s arm and pretended to walk away.
“Brys…wait,” Kaydon said, bringing his head up.
Bryson was ready.
With one hand, he parted Kaydon’s ass, and with the other, he grabbed the back of Kaydon’s head. Wrenching his hair back, Kaydon bowed under him. Bryson used this moment to plunge deep into his captive.
“Fuck,” Kaydon yelled out, and Bryson released his grip.
“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Bryson teased.
Moving both his hands to each of Kaydon’s hips, he pounded relentlessly. The tight canal pulsed around his cock, and Bryson had to concentrate on maintaining control.
Kaydon’s guttural moans kept Bryson going, blood rushing to his groin with every sound. Kaydon started to rub his hips against the mattress, a pathetic attempt to gain friction.
“No, you don’t,” Bryson growled, pulling out.
He dragged Kaydon up by the hair, spinning him until they were face-to-face.
For a moment, they just stared at each other—challenging, breathing, burning—before Bryson shoved him back onto the bed and folded Kaydon’s knees up against his chest. The angle shortened his reach, but the friction of his cock dragging over Kaydon’s taint was sharp and deliberate. Bryson didn’t miss how Kaydon’s hand drifted toward his own length.
“Stop,” Bryson snapped.
Kaydon’s eyes flew open, soft surprise turning to a deadly glare.
“You’re gonna be my good little slut today, aren’t you?” Bryson asked, his tone mocking.
“The fuck I am,” Kaydon bit out.
His body trembled beneath Bryson, his rage and arousal impossible to separate. Bryson spat on his cock, watching Kaydon twitch with raw tension.
“I’ll bind and gag you,” Bryson warned, voice low and cruel, “then go spend the rest of the night with your brother. ”
Kaydon groaned, fists clenching. But he didn’t move to touch himself. He knew it wasn’t an empty threat; Bryson would do it. He’d done it before. The high of the win hitting him, Bryson moved faster.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
He toyed with Kaydon.
Harder, then slower.
Working him like prey. Kaydon writhed beneath him, hands clawing at the bedspread, mouth parted, gasping, eyes tight shut.
Bryson’s breath caught as his own edge neared. “Look at me.”
Kaydon opened his eyes.
Bryson smirked, wicked and sharp. “What do we say?”
Kaydon didn’t answer. Fury radiated off him.
“Being pushed doesn’t always feel good, does it?” Bryson murmured, dragging out another brutal stroke.
Kaydon’s voice cracked. “Seth’s fine. He’s fine. Ask him.”
But Bryson heard the doubt. It rang clear. The message was landing.
Kaydon was his Right Hand, and the pressure was relentless. Bryson understood. Kaydon expected the most from everyone, but even more from himself.
He grabbed Kaydon’s jaw, tilting it to him. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
Kaydon bit his lip, looking anywhere but at him. Finally, a whisper: “Please.”
Not the full answer. But it was enough.
Bryson nodded. “You can touch.”
Kaydon’s hand flew to his cock, pumping with desperate, methodical strokes.
Bryson pounded into him, faster now, breath ragged.
“Such a good little slut,” he said between thrusts. “ Telling me what you need. Fuck, you’re perfect. A dirty, needy slut.”
Kaydon moaned, arching, semen spilling onto his stomach as he came, twitching and gasping beneath him.
Gripping his knees, Bryson gave one last series of deep, punishing thrusts, the sight of Kaydon undone pushing him over the edge. With a groan, Bryson spilled inside him, his orgasm detonating through every nerve.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing—ragged, raw, and real.
Collapsing beside Kaydon, Bryson allowed himself a few moments to breathe. His lungs burning, legs still shaky. After his heart rate began to settle, he forced himself upright and crossed the room to where Seth lay.
Scooping him up easily, Seth instinctively wrapped an arm around his neck, murmuring something unintelligible. Bryson carried him, placing him gently on the bed beside Kaydon. It was late, and they both needed rest.
For a brief second, he considered getting back to work. His father’s absence left a list of unfinished tasks in his lap. Responsibilities he couldn’t ignore for long. But one look at the way Seth curled into Kaydon, the rise and fall of their chests syncing like waves, and the decision was made.
Work could wait. It always could.
They’d bought a California king for this very reason. Technically, they didn’t live here. But whenever it was safe, this was home.
And those nights weren’t nearly often enough.
As heir to the Winters family, Bryson carried the weight of endless obligations. The Nine used him often—he and his brothers had earned a reputation for delivering messages with brutal efficiency. They claimed to value balance, order, restraint. Bryson found the mantra laughable. As once, the Triune had instructed to shove body parts down the throat of a man who was still breathing.
The Nine thought of themselves as guardians. But Bryson could see them for what they really were.
Monsters .
Especially his father.
That’s what made living under Callen’s roof intolerable.
But Bryson had found the solution. A yellowing, overlooked land deal buried in a dusty drawer of his father’s office. Abandoned decades ago because Callen hadn’t realized its worth. Thirty years ago, it might have been useless. Now? It was gold. A smuggler’s wet dream, the only viable port location in northern South America. With that land, the Winters could cement their place at the table.
And more importantly, Callen would have to travel.
Bryson pulled Kaydon and Seth close, using the last of his waning energy to tend to them. Pulling the blanket over the three of them, he ran his fingers through Seth’s hair. Kaydon didn’t need much after care, but Bryson would make sure he drank a large glass of water and ate breakfast first thing in the morning.
Bryson was still awake when the light shone in his window. Tracking across the wall as a car pulled into the estate’s long driveway.
Bryson reasoned his father must be home early.
Detangling himself from Seth and Kaydon, he moved to pour himself a glass of bourbon and watched the driveway from above.
Despite the late hour, there was a flurry of activity out front. The staff moving about the compound, needing to seem busy now that his father was home.
Stepping out of the car, his father was wearing a white button-up that was sheer enough to show off his extensive family colors. From the shadows, Bryson watched his father run a hand filled with rings through his slick black hair. He heard faint voices but wasn’t able to discern what they were saying.
Back from a weeklong business trip, Callen was no doubt getting an update from the staff.
Bryson moved to another window, positioning himself at the edge. From this vantage, he was able to distinguish some of the conversation.
“No, sir, I don’t think that task was completed.”
It was Rolland, one of his father’s men.
His father glanced towards Bryson’s windows.
Bryson took a step back, hoping the darkness of the room would cloak him.
“What about the meeting with Terrance? Did we smooth things over?” his father asked, voice rough.
“Unfortunately, I do not think that task was completed either,” Rolland said.
Bryson swore. He had meant to get that done, but there had been several parties the three of them needed to attend. It was the sort of networking his father didn’t approve of, but Bryson didn’t care. They were having fun. He was the last of the Winters. So, his father didn’t really have a choice. He was going to have to get used to Bryson being a fuck-up.
Pouring himself another drink, Bryson moved to check the locks on the door. Steel with fortified holds, his father would have to put in a monumental amount of effort to get in, which seemed improbable, as when it came to Bryson, his father had a strong dislike for expending even a minimal amount of effort.
He would have hell to pay for not completing the family tasks, but who cared? The land deal was coming to fruition, and then his father would be gone. No more arguing about what it meant to be a Winters. No more constant criticisms, no more worrying about what his father might do or say. Bryson had no idea what it would feel like to be out from his father’s thumb, but he knew it had to feel better than this.
Tucking both Seth and Kaydon under the blankets, he crawled in between them. Seth rested his head on his chest and Kaydon’s leg reached out and wrapped around his.
Bryson snuggled in between them. It was a new moon, so when his father’s headlights turned off, the room fell into complete darkness. Bryson listened to Seth’s breathing next to him, and Kaydon’s warmth calmed him, while the blackness pressed in from outside.
He’ll be gone soon.