29. Epilogue
Xena
I watch from across the street, my eyes glued to Roman as he works, muscles flexing beneath his tanned skin, veins popping in his forearms as he grips the wooden beam. He’s drenched in sweat, every movement radiating raw power. The sight stirs that dark, familiar hunger deep inside me. Roman is everything—my protector, my anchor in the chaos. Too bad good things never last.
My gaze drops to the crumpled note in my hand, the words scrawled in dark red ink that stains the paper like dried blood: I know what you did. The faint scent of copper lingers, and I stifle a laugh. Someone thinks they can scare me. But they don’t know me. I don’t scare easily.
I crush the note into my pocket, unwilling to let Roman see it. This isn't his burden to carry. It’s mine, and I won’t let anyone take away the one reason I’m still breathing. Roman is mine, as essential as the air in my lungs. Without him, there’s no me. I’ll protect him—whatever it takes. But for now, I just want to enjoy this moment—watching him work, savoring the rare glimpse of normalcy we so rarely get. After all, it's almost Halloween .
As Roman finishes up, I wait for the others to leave before slipping into the shadows, heart racing with anticipation. My lips curl into a wicked smile as I pull on the Ghostface mask, my outfit already perfectly suited for what's about to unfold. Black Vans, black dress overalls, and a long-sleeved crop top beneath it. The night air bites at my skin, but the adrenaline burning through my veins keeps me warm.
I watch as Roman pours water over his head, his back to me, muscles rippling with every movement. He’s a masterpiece, and tonight, I’m going to claim him in every way imaginable.
Quietly, I slip behind him, flicking open the knife he gave me for protection. With deliberate precision, I press the cold steel to his neck, leaning close enough that my lips almost brush his ear. "What's your favorite scary movie?" I purr, my voice low and teasing.
He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he lets out a low, dark chuckle, leaning into the blade, making a bead of blood appear. "I don’t remember any scary movie where the killer was this fucking sexy." His gravelly voice sends a shiver down my spine. "You gonna kill me, Ms. Ghostface? Or ride me until I can’t breathe?"
His words send heat pooling between my legs, an undeniable ache. I drag the blade down his neck, slow and deliberate, just enough to leave a shallow cut. When he turns to face me, his eyes are gleaming with that familiar, sadistic hunger. Romans not scared—he’s turned on. And so am I. His cock strains against his pants, and I bite my lip, already knowing where this is headed.
Before I can even react, he's on me, almost impaling himself on the knife as his hand wraps around my throat. His other hand rips the mask off my face, and his lips crash against mine with brutal force. There’s nothing gentle in the way he bites down on my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, before his tongue invades my mouth, demanding control. My back slams against the drywall, dust flying around us, but I don’t care. I’m already pulling him closer, nails digging into his skin, desperate for more. The danger, the blood, the heat between us—it’s intoxicating.
He pulls back just enough to growl against my lips, "On your knees, Ms. Ghostface." His hand fumbles with his zipper, freeing the toy I crave most.
I drop without hesitation, eager. My tongue teases the head of his cock, tasting the precum already there. Roman’s hand fists in my hair, yanking my ponytail hard as he shoves deeper into my mouth. "That’s it, little snake. Show me what a good girl you are. Take your big brother’s cock."
I gag as he thrusts deeper, his recently pierced length filling my throat. His growls vibrate through me, each sound like a dark promise. And I love it. I want it all—his pleasure, his pain, his complete and utter destruction. I want to be the one to bring him to his knees.
Just as I’m about to take him all the way, Roman yanks me up by my hair and slams me against the wall again, his cock still dripping with my spit. "So, fucking needy," he growls, hiking up my skirt. "Couldn’t wait until I got home, huh?"
I smirk, my lipstick smeared across my face. "No, I couldn’t. I wanted your cum inside me while we walked to the store."
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing in confusion. "The Halloween store?"
I nod, a teasing grin on my lips. "I want to do normal couple shit, Ro."
His dark eyes narrow further, but then a dangerous grin spreads across his face. "You want normal couple shit?" His voice drips with sarcasm as he presses into me, sliding his cock into my wet heat with one hard, punishing thrust. My back arches, and I moan, clutching the wall for support.
"I want to carve pumpkins," I gasp, breathless as he fills me, each slow, torturous thrust sending waves of pleasure through my body. "Maybe pick out decorations. You know... normal stuff."
Roman laughs, rough and mocking. "Normal? Since when we have ever been normal, Xena?" He thrusts harder, making me cry out, my body trembling with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain that only he can give. "But if you want to carve pumpkins, we’ll fucking carve pumpkins. I’ll do whatever you want."
His cock slams into me again and again, my legs shaking, my world spinning as I lose myself to him. When I finally cum, it’s with a scream, his name ripping from my throat as my body shudders around him. He follows soon after, filling me with his heat. Roman pulls out, smearing his cum across my lips before kissing me, deep and filthy, claiming every part of me.
As we catch our breath, our bodies still pressed together, both of our phone's buzz at the same time. Roman made sure we both had phones on us at all times since our encounter with Vik. That was one of his first purchases with the money he dug up from the back. I got an upgrade, and he got a run-down tech. Ten years in prison made him miss a lot. I pull mine from my pocket, glancing at Roman as he checks his. His brow furrows, and the look in his eyes shifts from lust to something darker. Something unsettling.
The message on the phone screen flashed ominously, sending a chill up my spine:
Only the wicked survive the night…. ready of not Fright Night is coming for you.
No Phone. No Rules. No Mercy.
I stare at the words, a strange thrill rushing through me. My fingers tighten around the phone as I glance up at Roman, his face shadowed in confusion. His hand absentmindedly strokes his jawline, eyes glued to the screen.
“What the hell is Fright Night?” Roman mutters, his voice low and suspicious. He flicks his gaze back to me, the protective gleam in his eyes sending a warm pulse through my body.
I shrug nonchalantly, trying to mask the excitement bubbling beneath my skin. “It’s the hottest, most exclusive rave around,” I explain, licking my lips. “They usually host it a few towns over. It’s shocking that we got invited.” I pause, watching the way his brow furrows deeper. “We should go.”
Roman’s dark eyebrow arches, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smirk. “We should?”
“Yeah, we should.” I lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest, feeling the heat radiate off his body. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Getting murdered in a dark alley, for starters,” he shoots back dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm, though his expression stays tense. His gaze flickers to the streets outside before locking back on me.
I roll my eyes, dismissing his concern with a wave of my hand. “Come on, Roman. When have we ever backed down from a challenge?” A devilish grin spreads across my lips.
He narrows his eyes, studying me for a moment. His demeanor softens, and that familiar mischievous glint sparks in his gaze. “Fine.” He shrugs, pushing himself off the wall. “Let’s grab some food, hit the Halloween store, and maybe we’ll pick up some… kinky shit for later.”
I smirk as he grabs my hand, pulling me out of the construction site, and we head down the street. We step into a small pizza joint, the comforting aroma of garlic and fresh dough filling the air. Just as we sit down, my phone buzzes, and Roman’s does the same.
But something on the TV in the corner catches my attention, freezing me in place.
The flashing headline reads: "MISSING RAVERS: MYSTERY OR SERIAL KILLER?"
My heart skips a beat as the news anchor’s voice fills the room. “...three women and two men have vanished after attending Fright Night. Authorities are investigating possible connections to previous disappearances surrounding the event. Families are desperate for answers. ”
I glance at Roman, his jaw clenched, eyes glued to the screen, the tension between us suddenly thicker than before.
The camera pans to a distraught family, tears streaming down their faces as they beg for information on their missing daughter. A chill sweeps through me as the gravity of the situation sinks in. This so-called “hottest rave” is more than just an underground party—it’s a deadly trap.
Roman’s expression turns cold as he follows my gaze to the TV. "What the hell is going on?"
I can feel his concern growing, his protective instincts kicking in. But beneath that, there’s something else creeping over me—a sense of inevitability. This isn’t just some coincidence. The invitation feels deliberate, like we’ve been chosen for something bigger, something darker.
We were invited for a reason, I think, the voice in my head warning me of the danger, but I don’t listen. Instead, I brush it off. "It’s normal. There’s a lot of drugs at these raves—people wander off," I reply, trying to sound casual. But Roman doesn’t look convinced.
He doesn’t know the rumors like I do. The whispers about the WICKED raves. A playground for the elite, where the line between predator and prey blurs. And somehow, we’ve been pulled into their twisted game.
I tear my eyes away from the screen, meeting Roman’s steely gaze. "You okay?" he asks, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
I nod slowly, excitement bubbling beneath my skin again. "Yeah." A smirk tugs at my lips. "We’re still going. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now."
He snorts, shaking his head as if to clear away the last remnants of doubt. "Me? Back down from danger?" His tone is teasing, but the tension between us is thick, impossible to ignore. "Never."
“Good,” I bite my lip, the thrill of what lies ahead making my pulse quicken. Whoever’s behind Fright Night has no idea who they’re messing with. They’re not ready for us. I give Roman a wicked smile. “I guess we’re going to a rave.”