39. Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Thirty Nine
Byron
I watch his naked body flex as he moves the woman to her final resting place, the muscles in his back shifting like waves under his skin. The chain attached to my collar rattles faintly as I shift, my body stiffening at the sight.
“What’d you give her?” I ask, my voice sharp but quiet, trying to mask the unease clawing at my chest.
He pauses mid-motion, adjusting the cuff around her wrist with an almost tender precision. Then, without looking at me, he answers. “I gave her succinylcholine.” His tone is casual, as though he were discussing a recipe.
He resumes his work, locking the second cuff and securing her to the table. “I had an interesting day today,” he adds, his voice laced with a disturbing edge. “Your ex stopped by my office.”
My breath catches.
“How she found me, no clue,” he continues, now cutting away pieces of her clothing. The fabric falls in soft whispers to the floor, leaving her naked and vulnerable under the dim light. “But she told me something very interesting.”
Ren turns to me, a wicked gleam in his eye as he winks. “Can you guess what she told me?”
My throat tightens as he slices away the last piece of fabric, exposing her completely. Her pussy is bare, save for a precise landing strip that runs down her mound. Her pierced nipples are erect from the cold of the room, glinting like tiny pieces of trapped light.
“Such a beautiful canvas,” he murmurs, cupping her breast with one hand. He rolls her nipple between his fingers, his touch slow, deliberate. The woman’s wide, tear-filled eyes dart to me, pleading silently. Her body remains motionless, but I can see her terror in the way her breaths hitch, shallow and erratic.
My body goes rigid, my heart hammering until the rushing of blood fills my ears. “What?” I say through gritted teeth, forcing my gaze away from the horrifying tableau before me.
Ren collects his tools, picking up a paintbrush and pointing it at me, his smile revealing a perfect row of white teeth. “You have such secrets,” he muses, his voice almost playful.
My stomach twists. “I was drunk,” I mutter, the words a pathetic shield against the truth clawing its way to the surface.
He shakes his head, the brush swirling lazily in the air. “Liar,” he breathes, his raven-black hair falling over one eye as he tilts his head, studying me like a predator would its prey. “Admit who you are, Byron. Step out of the shadows, or stay there—just claim your truth.”
He slices the woman’s wrist with practiced precision, the blood welling up and trailing down her arm in a dark, glistening line. Her eyes widen in panic, tears spilling over as she watches the crimson path carve its way to her elbow.
“Don’t worry,” Ren says softly, dipping his brush into the blood. “That cut won’t kill you.”
He sits beside her, collecting her blood like a master preparing his palette. With slow, deliberate strokes, he begins to paint.
“For every question you lie about or refuse to answer,” he says, his voice calm, almost hypnotic, “I’ll carve her up like a turkey. How quickly she dies is your choice.”
I swallow hard, forcing down the bile rising in my throat. “What do you want to know?” My voice shakes, betraying the shame curling around my heart. “You already know why he beat me.”
Ren looks up at me, his lips pursing before his teeth bite into his bottom lip. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze sharp. “Tell me about your little cheating scandal.”
My hesitation costs her.
He slices between her breasts, deeper this time, the blade biting into her skin with an audible wet sound. Her body twitches, and she groans—a faint, muffled sound that makes my skin crawl.
“I was drinking,” I begin, my fists clenching at my sides as I conjure the memory of Carlos on his knees for me.
Ren stops painting, his dark eyes narrowing as he leans forward. “Go on.”
“I was drinking, and I was alone,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. “Carlos...” I pause, watching for his reaction, the room falling silent except for the sound of my chain rattling against the floor. “He asked me if I ever,” I look down as the shame begins to pull me under. “He asked if I ever had a guy blow me?” My statement causes Ren to laugh a loud and mocking laugh that echoes through the room.
“What an odd thing to ask?” His gaze doesn’t waver. “So, how did you respond?” Using his hand to signal me to carry on.
“I knew I was attracted to men,” I finally admit, the words falling like stones. “I knew, and he knew.”
Ren resumes painting, crossing one muscular leg over the other as he listens. “So, you let him suck your cock?” I grunt ,confirming his suspicions,briefly he looks at me and I can see the smile in his eyes. “So, what happened next?”
“Sandra walked in as I fucked her cousin throat.” I blurt out, ripping the bandage off without caring for pain or shame. But Ren doesn’t shame me, it seems like he genuinely is intrigued by me.
“I grew up in a household where it was... frowned upon,” I say, my voice cracking under the weight of the shame. I couldn’t say it. Not then.
“To like men?” Ren asks, frowning slightly as he sets the brush down. “Sort of like my mother. She hated that as I grew older, I found others attractive. She even killed one for my sake.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze drifting to the blood streaming down her chest.
He grabs a sponge, soaking it in the crimson pool before patting it against the canvas. “So you cheated to prove you were straight, but ended up liking it. Then she walked in.”
He reads me like a book, and all I can do is nod.
“Do you like what I do to you?” he asks, his voice dropping lower.
My heart picks up, warmth surging through me despite the fear, despite the pain. I can’t look at him. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice trembling with honesty.
“I think you do,” he says softly, standing and walking toward me. “I think you like it more than you’re willing to admit.”
I suck my teeth, sinking to the floor as I glare at him. “What if I do? Nothing changes. I’m just your puppet—your game.”
Ren stops abruptly, the air between us crackling with tension.
“You think you’re a game?” he says, his voice laced with quiet fury. “Do you know how reckless I’ve been to get you here? To break you?”
He gestures to the woman beside him. “Even her—a mistake. All I’ve done since you walked into my life is lose control.”
He closes the distance, his skin brushing mine as he cups my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You have made me reckless. A real thorn in my ass.”
Before I can pull away, his lips crash into mine, hot and unrelenting. The shock ripples through me, freezing me in place. His mouth is soft yet demanding, the taste of spearmint laced with something darker—something dangerous. Intoxicating .
My mouth opens willingly, almost instinctively, allowing his tongue to invade. It sweeps over mine with deliberate dominance, exploring, tasting, claiming. A groan escapes my throat, raw and involuntary, as his hands tighten around my jaw, holding me firmly in place.
His touch is fire, burning away every shield I’ve built around myself, every lie I’ve told. My hands move without thought, tangling in the dark strands of his hair, pulling him closer as though the distance between us were unbearable. The sharp strands of his raven locks prick my fingers as I grip tighter, anchoring myself in this impossible moment.
Ren deepens the kiss, his tongue twisting with mine in a battle for dominance I can’t win—and don’t want to. His teeth graze my bottom lip, the sharp bite sending a jolt down my spine. A shiver courses through me as I feel the rough stubble of his jaw scraping against my skin, grounding me in the reality of what’s happening.
The world around us fades, the studio disappearing into a haze of heat and sensation. The metallic tang of blood lingers faintly in the air, mingling with the electric charge crackling between us. It’s suffocating, intoxicating.
I feel his hand slide down from my jaw, trailing across my neck, his fingers firm and possessive as they trace the line of my collarbone. He pauses there, his thumb pressing lightly against the hollow of my throat, as though testing my pulse—measuring how fast he’s unraveling me.
A low growl rumbles from him, vibrating against my mouth, as though my surrender is the final piece of a puzzle he’s been trying to solve. His lips leave mine briefly, only to drag down my jaw, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin there before returning to claim my mouth again.
I gasp into him, my breath hitching as the kiss consumes me. There’s no room for thought, no space for denial—just the raw, undeniable truth. I want this. I want him.
For the first time, I let myself feel it. No mask. No shields. Just the reality of Ren’s touch, his taste, and the dark, suffocating pull of his presence.
“There you go,” he breathes into my mouth, his voice low and drenched with satisfaction. His lips hover over mine for a moment, his breath warm against my skin. “That’s the truth I’ve been waiting for.”
“How about yours?” I ask, my voice shaky but cutting through the charged air.
Ren doesn’t look away. His dark eyes lock onto mine, unreadable, impenetrable. Without a word, he steps closer, his thumb pressing against my lips. His touch is firm, controlling, and the chill of his skin sends a shiver down my spine.
“There’s not much to say,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost detached. “I wasn’t loved. My dad killed himself to escape the demon he called a wife, leaving me damned to a life where my only purpose was to please her. In every way she needed.”
I can’t breathe, the weight of his words sinking into me like stones.
“I have no shame in my past,” he continues, his thumb lingering against my lips before pulling away. He brushes back the strands of hair that fall into his face, those dark pools of his eyes still fixed on me. “She taught me to be who I am today. Ren fucking Sato.”
He says his name with venom, as if it’s both a declaration and a curse. Then he steps back, turning his attention to the toolbox by the wall.
I watch, frozen, as he pulls out a knife. No, not just a knife—a carving knife.
A knot tightens in my stomach as he plugs it into the outlet. The hum of the motor fills the room, a sinister sound that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Hey,” I call out, trying to catch his attention, but he doesn’t respond. His back is to me, the dragon tattoo on his shoulder flexing with his muscles as he moves toward the woman on the table. The red ink seems alive, fiery, as if the creature itself is breathing.
“Byron,” Ren says finally, his voice calm yet devoid of anything resembling humanity. “I might be fascinated by you. I might even feel some form of camaraderie. But I. Do. Not. Feel.”
Each word drops like a stone at the end, the finality of it striking me harder than I expect.
“I am a void,” he continues, the knife buzzing in his hand. “A monster created from the sins of my mother.”
His words hang in the air like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.
“Talk to me!” I yell, panic rising as I take a step forward. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even flinch.
Then he turns to the woman. Without hesitation, he sinks the blade into her thigh.
The sound is wet, sickening.
“FUCK, STOP!” I scream, but it’s too late.
Her flesh begins to peel away, slowly, grotesquely, as Ren guides the blade with precision. Her mouth gapes open, her eyes glazed and streaming with silent tears. Her body remains paralyzed, helpless, as the piece of flesh separates, finally dropping to the floor with a soft, nauseating plop.
I feel like I’m going to be sick, but I can’t look away.
The carved-out flesh reveals an image tattooed on her thigh… a sun and moon locked in an eternal kiss.
“You can’t have it all, Byron,” Ren says, his voice eerily calm as he admires his work. “You can’t enjoy the light when you’ve lived in the dark for so long.”
He taps his chest violently, his fingers slick with blood.
“Being with me means that. Only darkness. That’s all I can give.”
His laugh is sharp, cold, hollow. “That’s all I am. Nothing more. There’s no redemption.”
He turns to me then, his bloody hand brushing back the hair from his face, smearing red streaks across his pale skin. His eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see it—the absolute void within him.
“You can’t save me,” he whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a cruel smile.
I don’t move. I can’t.
Ren turns back to the woman, the carving knife buzzing once more as he digs into her flesh, the sound of her skin tearing mingling with the hum of the blade.
I stand there, helpless, horrified and watching something so heinous yet so beautiful unfold before my eyes.