Sinner
I wake up to a world of pain. My head throbs with every beat of my heart, and my body feels like it’s been dragged through a mile of broken glass. The heat of the fire makes me sweat as it rampages through Victor’s property. I hear the sound of tires on the gravel driveway, the crunching echoing through my foggy consciousness. It’s a sound that rips me back to reality and forces me to assess my surroundings. Marisol is gone; that much is clear, and that asshole will rape her and kill her just like he did with Zia. That won’t happen to my little demon. Nobody but me is allowed to break her. Because while I would break her, I would still hold the pieces to put her back together.
I push myself to my feet, wincing as every movement sends shards of agony stabbing through my head. I stumble toward the sound of voices and chuckle as I see two men walk out of a pickup truck. Too bad he only sent two. He must have confused me for some weakling, dismissed my devil because of the mask I wore. That was his mistake, and not ending me when he had the chance will prove fatal to him. I wait for them to separate. Using my switchblade, I kill them one by one. Afterward, I pick up their gun and whatever else is useful, which isn’t much—just some keys, a couple of rounds, and cigarettes. I don’t smoke often, but fuck, do I need it. Pulling out a cigarette, I light it, inhaling deeply as the nicotine courses through my veins. It isn’t exactly a painkiller, but it’s an excellent distractor. The smoke billows into the pre-dawn air as I sift through the men’s pockets again, confirming I haven’t missed anything of use.
The air is iridescent with the haze of dawn and the ravages of the now extinguishing fire. It’s time to find Marisol.
I climb into the truck, put it into reverse, and promptly floor it, gravel spitting out behind me like shards of glass—the same shards that feel lodged in my skull. But right now, my pain is secondary; Marisol needs me .
The old truck groans and bounces along the path, wheels crunching over rocks and divots. My eyes remain glued to the rearview mirror, watching as Victor’s property grows smaller and smaller until it’s nothing but a dot in the vast landscape. The fire has subsided, but the stench of burnt wood still lingers in my nostrils.
My mind begins to replay my plan, which is shit at this point. All I have in mind is destruction. I’ll be sending everyone to meet their fucking God, starting with their false prophet. I already sent one to hell, don’t mind sending the second. I drive as fast as I can to get to them when I see a crashed truck at the side of the road. Abruptly, I pull up beside it, checking for traces of her. But I find none—all I see are tracks that lead up the path to the church. I opt to leave the truck here and go on foot. It’s better if they don’t see me coming. I place the gun in my waistband and then head toward the tracks they left.
As I walk, the damp earth beneath me crunches with every step. It doesn’t take long for the compound to come into view, but I stay hidden in the shadows as I navigate the area. Finding Marisol is easier than expected because there she is, crucified, naked, her face covered in a white lace veil as the new prophet preaches.
“After her penance, she will be granted the chance to continue her path. To redeem herself as a vessel, a portal for my holy seed,” Gabriel declares.
I stifle a growl, my grip tightening around the gun’s cold metal. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this sort of spectacle—religious zealots and their twisted rituals. But seeing Marisol up there, her flesh vulnerable against the chill wind, every instinct in me screams to run out and shoot down every one of them. But that wouldn’t do her any good. I need to be alive to be able to rescue her. The followers continue to cast rocks at Marisol at Gabriel’s command, only stopping when he begins to preach.
My patience wears thin as I listen to Gabriel’s sermon, the words tumbling from his lips like venomous snakes. With each passing second, my heart pounds harder against my chest—a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. I can feel Marisol’s pain as if it were my own, and I’ve had enough. There’s no time to rescue the innocent; all I can offer is death. I count the armed men that surround the compound. Fortunately, they feel safe or comfortable enough to not have many—another fatal mistake.
Walking over to their storage rooms, I sneak in and grab as much gas as I can gather. Spreading the gas through the area as quietly as possible, I carefully ensure each leak finds its way to a cluster of dry kindling or one of the well-worn wooden structures. One spark, and this entire place will become an infernal symphony.
Continuing to slosh the gas around the outskirts of their gathering, careful not to let the scent reach them yet, moving as quickly as I can. Once I’m done, I retreat to a safe distance, crouching behind the brush and watching them through the weaves of the branches. Ripping a piece of my shirt, I wrap it around a rock, soaking it in the remnants of gasoline.
My gaze falls upon Marisol again, her head hanging low, her body glistening with blood and sweat. This is going to hurt, but I've never been one to shy away from pain. In a quick movement, I light the end of the fabric, praying that this works because this is all I've got. It's all or nothing at this point. My hand absentmindedly throws the rock, and the fire is almost instant as it snakes its way to the storage of gas.
BOOM.
The blast rocks the ground beneath me as a tower of fire erupts into the dawn sky, illuminating the horrified faces of Gabriel’s followers. Shrieks fill the air as the inferno dances menacingly, consuming everything in its path. The wooden structures crumble under the intense heat, their ashes floating in the air like snowflakes from hell.
With chaos enveloping their sanctuary, I take advantage of the commotion to get my girl. She’s out cold, blood soaking in the white lace that covers her face. Quickly, I focus on how to bring her down without causing her too much pain, but I’m running out of time. Thankfully, she isn’t nailed on the cross—they’ve secured her with barbed wire.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I dart toward her. I’m not sure how the fuck I’ll bring her down, but I have to. The cross is thankfully close to the ground, and with my height, I can reach her wrist without a struggle. Carefully but quickly, I unravel the first wrist, then, using my body and leg to hold her up, my hands move to the one that’s still secured.
The barbed wire bites into my skin, drawing thin lines of blood as I work to free Marisol. But the pain is nothing compared to my desperation as I frantically unwind it. Time is a luxury I can’t afford—Gabriel’s goons won’t be distracted by their burning sanctuary forever.
Once free from the cross of her torment, Marisol slumps against me, a sigh escaping her lips as if her body recognizes me. Recognizes she’s safe, “I got you, pretty girl,” I whisper into her ear, hoisting her up around my shoulder with care, mindful of the wounds that speckle her body. Her weight is a comforting anchor against the chaos around us. I cast one last look at the hellish scene—it’s a sight straight out of hell.
The followers are scattering around us, not even noticing I don’t belong here. That I’m not one of them. But just as we cross into the forest, bullets begin to rain down, lashing the leaves around us. The air resonates with the crackling of flames and the deafening roar of gunfire. Alarm flares within me, but I refuse to panic—I can’t afford that luxury either.
Using the trees as cover, I dart through the forest, Marisol clinging to me like a lifeline.
“Again, taking my whore. You just don’t fucking stop.” Gabriel’s voice echoes through the forest, his words filled with seething hate. But I don’t care. Let him keep his sanctimonious wrath. Let him bask in the fire and destruction of his holy sanctuary. As for me, I have one singular focus—Marisol .
“Tell you what, fight me like a man, no weapons, only hands. She belongs to me, you know. My Sol loved me at one point; she will love me again.” Gabriel’s voice echoes through the dense foliage, a venomous snarl that seems to claw at my back as I run. Shots continue to whizz past us, some striking the tree trunks, sending wooden splinters flying through the air. My boots slide on the damp earth beneath, but I force myself to move faster. A bullet rips through my leg, causing me to stumble, and a harsh grunt tears from my lips. Marisol’s terrified gasp rings in my ears as I fight against the blinding pain that shoots up my leg. Gabriel’s laughter echoes through the trees, as if he were a vengeful god raining down his divine punishment.
With gritted teeth, I push myself to a nearby tree, shielding Marisol. I help her to sit on the ground, her eyes wide as she looks down at my bleeding leg.
“It’s okay. It’s a flesh wound. Stay here. Don’t let him see you,” I whisper. She shakes her head, and I kiss her because I can, because this could possibly be the last time I claim those plump lips I adore so much.
“Come back to me. There is so much I want to explore and learn about you,” she whispers back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
I nod, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. “And there’s so much I want to learn and explore about you, darling,” I say with a smile. The footsteps are getting closer, and the daylight makes it easier to spot us. After giving her the gun that's on my waistband, I pull her close. I press a swift, fierce kiss to her forehead before standing up. The world spins for a moment, and I bear down, pressing my hand to my bleeding leg. The coppery scent of blood fills the air, and the uncontrolled tremors in my hand threaten my bravado. “Remember, stay quiet. Don't let him see you and only come out if you’re in danger. I’ll come back.” She nods, clutching the gun in her hand as I pull away from her reluctantly and rise on shaky legs—the act alone stirring a sharp ache in my wounded limb. With one last regretful glance at Marisol, I step into view. Crazy idea, I know, but I was never one to run .
“Ah, there you are!” Gabriel’s cruel voice rings out, the tone chillingly calm compared to his earlier anger. His eyes glint in the dappled sunlight, a look of pure satisfaction spreading across his face. “Now, let us end this charade and be done with it,” he sneers, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Ignoring the searing pain in my leg, I tackle him. One thing I’m good at is using my hands to kill; I like being up close and personal with sin.
Our bodies crash together, two forces of nature colliding in the quiet of the forest. His laughter is cut short, replaced by a grunt of surprise as we tumble to the ground.
We wrestle in the dirt like two wild beasts, fists flying and teeth gnashing in desperation. I manage to land a few good blows on Gabriel before he wiggles his way out of my chokehold. A sharp rock jabs into my wounded leg, eliciting a hiss of pain from me, but I don’t let it slow me. I pin him down and straddle him. His fingers dig into my wound, making me hiss in pain. Bringing my head down to his level, I headbutt him.
“I’m going to skin you alive,” I snarl, not very god-like or pure, but I don’t care. I want carnage and blood.
“The feeling, my dear friend, is absolutely mutual,” Gabriel sneers back, a vicious grin stretching across his dirt-streaked face.
I drive my fist into his jaw, sending blood and saliva spraying from his mouth as he yelps in agony. The satisfaction fades from his expression, replaced by a fear that seems much more appropriate. His attempts to retaliate grow increasingly weak as the flavor of fear takes hold, overshadowing his earlier bravado. I punch over and over, giving him no space to defend himself until my knuckles are raw and bloodied. He writhes beneath me like a snake, his hands clawing desperately at my arms, at the earth, at anything he can reach. But I am relentless.
But then Gabriel, in a sudden move, cheap shots me in the nuts, forcing a gasp of pain from my throat. Before I can react, he headbutts me, using the momentum to shove me off him. Dirt flies into my eyes as he scrambles to his feet. I groan, struggling on the ground as he stands over me, a twisted grin on his lips.
“How does it feel, Priest?” he taunts, his voice dripping with venom. ‘Knowing I had them both first? Zia and Marisol. It was my cock they fucked and sucked for the first time." Rage surges through me, but before I can respond, Gabriel kicks me hard, his voice a feral growl.
“She's mine,” he snarls, his anger mounting. “Mine. Not the Prophet's, not yours, but mine. My whore. My woman. My dove.” He kicks me with each word, his fury escalating. “You aren't worthy of her, you filthy sinner, defiling my woman with your rotten cock.”
Just as Gabriel is about to land another brutal kick, a gunshot rings out, echoing through the air. He freezes, his twisted grin faltering as he stares down at me. But then he smirks, the fire in his eyes reigniting—until another shot cracks through the tension, and he drops to one knee, clutching his leg in agony.
That's when I see her—my angel of death—moving towards him with an eerie calmness. The calm before a kill.
“Why?” he gasps, his voice strained as she kneels before him, her hand running through his hair. She grips it tightly, yanking his head back to meet her eyes.
“I'm not yours,” she whispers, cold and final, before slamming the butt of the gun into his face. He falls to his side with a soft thud, his hazel eyes remaining locked on her as she rises and walks toward me.
“Now I had to do the rescuing,” she teases, a smirk playing on her lips.
“You are so fucking amazing,” I chuckle, my body still wracked with pain, but the sight of her, the feel of her power, drowns it out. She turns back to Gabriel, her gaze predatory.
“Let me show you worship,” she says, her voice dripping with venom. “Watch me fuck my God.” Without another word, she straddles me, her mouth crashing into my bloodied lips. The taste of iron and lust mingles as our tongues battle for dominance. My head spins, my body throbbing with a mix of pain and raw desire. Despite everything, I'm turned on—more than I’ve ever been. The pain, the chaos, the sheer primal need in her eyes—it drives me wild. I’m willing to give her anything she wants, and if that means my cock, then so be it.
Her hands move down to my pants, no tenderness in her touch, just pure, unfiltered need. She frees me with a rough yank, her fingers gripping me with a worshipful hunger. In one swift motion, she sinks down onto me, her pussy tight and slick, swallowing me whole. The sensation is overwhelming—hot, wet, and consuming. Her movements are fierce, driven by something more than just lust; it’s reverence, adoration, and dominance all in one.
Each thrust is a sin, each moan a blasphemy, and I’m lost in it, lost in her. The church fire rages in the distance, the heat of the flames matching the inferno between us. An explosion rocks the ground, but it only fuels her further. She throws her head back, my name escaping her lips in a cry of ecstasy, a call to the heavens.
Her climax is violent, her body trembling as she milks every ounce of pleasure from me with a final shudder. She pulls off me, her eyes wild and unrestrained. She drops to her knees, taking me into her mouth, finishing me with ruthless skill. I come hard, my release flooding her mouth as she moans around me, the vibrations sending aftershocks through my body. But my little sinner is still not done. I watch her rise to her feet, her eyes still wild and a wicked smile on that beautiful face, her mouth still full of my cum. She strides over to Gabriel, who’s barely conscious, his eyes fluttering between pain and delirium. She grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, and leans in close, her lips hovering over his.
“You will be purified,” she murmurs, before spitting my cum into his mouth. His eyes widen in horror, but he doesn’t have time to react. She presses the gun to his stomach and pulls the trigger, the shot echoing like a death knell as his body jerks violently.
Gabriel's groan of agony mixes with the crackling fire as she stands over him, her gaze cold and unforgiving.