40. Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty
Ren
I finished carving her up, her body now a grotesque masterpiece. Her flesh lies in perfect ribbons on the floor, the blood pooling beneath her like a dark halo. Her frozen expression—a mix of silent agony and terror—makes her seem almost alive. A statue immortalized in pain.
I step back, my chest heaving, and glance over my shoulder. Byron stands rooted in place, his face pale, his jaw clenched tight. Disgust flickers across his features, but it’s the fear I savor most.
He thinks he understands me. The kiss, the fleeting connection, might have fooled him for a moment. But he’ll learn. I am not looking for a partner. I am not capable of love.
I am a creator. A sculptor of flesh and mind.
And Byron is my canvas.
I wipe my hands on my thighs, streaking my skin with blood, and turn to face him fully. His eyes lock onto me, wide and wary. He looks at me as if I’m a monster. Good .
“Let me show you what it’s like to live in my world, Byron,” I say, my voice low, almost reverent. “Let me give you the void.”
I drop the carving knife, the clang of steel against the floor reverberates through the room. Slowly, I close the distance between us, the chain attached to his collar rattling with every step.
He pulls back slightly, the resistance in the chain tightening as I tug. “Stop it,” he growls, his voice trembling with anger—or is it fear?
“Stop resisting,” I reply, kneeling before him.
I dip my hand into the blood pooling at my feet. It’s warm, sticky, alive. Slowly, I trail my crimson-streaked fingers up his strong, hairy legs, smearing the blood as I go. His muscles twitch under my touch, tension radiating through him.
His breathing quickens.
“Do you feel it yet?” I murmur, my voice soft, intimate. “The pull of the void? It’s not so bad, once you let it in.”
He flinches as my hand slides higher, curling around his cock. His body betrays him—his length hardens under my touch, stiff and hot against my bloodied palm.
His jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together. “You’re insane,” he spits, his voice cracking.
I smile. “Maybe. But insanity is freedom, Byron. It’s the truth stripped bare. It’s what you’ve been running from your entire life.”
A bead of precum gathers at the tip of his cock, glistening like a tear. I lean in, my tongue darting out to collect it. The taste is sharp, briny, electric. He jerks back instinctively, but my free hand locks him in place, gripping the chain around his neck and pulling him closer.
“Stop fighting,” I whisper, my breath warm against his skin. “You belong here. With me.”
His eyes burn into mine, wide and full of disbelief, but he doesn’t resist as my tongue swirls around the head of his cock. The tension in his body falters, the smallest hint of surrender rippling through him.
My hand moves to his backside, spreading his cheeks apart as I press a blood-slicked finger against his tight entrance. He groans, low and guttural, the sound cutting through the suffocating air of the studio.
The room reeks of blood and sweat, the metallic tang clinging to my skin. Shadows cast by the dim light dance on the walls, distorted and alive, like they’re watching us.
His hand tangles in my hair, gripping hard as he forces himself deeper into my mouth. His cock fills me completely, stretching my throat, choking me. Tears prick my eyes, spilling over as I gag, but I don’t stop.
I can’t.
My cheeks hollow, and I let instinct take over, sucking him deeper. The obscene wet sounds of his thrusts mingle with his groans, and I revel in the control I have over him.
Do you feel it now? The void, the truth, the inevitability of me?
We connect as one, my fingers sliding inside him, stretching him, eliciting a soft moan from his lips. His body trembles under my touch, caught between resistance and surrender, as I curl my fingers upward, pressing toward his stomach. I massage the area deliberately, slow and methodical, feeling the way his body tightens around me. His fucking G-spot.
“Holy—“ he groans, his hips jerking forward instinctively, chasing the overwhelming pleasure.
I don’t stop. I press harder, curling my fingers deeper, sliding in another, stretching him further. His breath catches, a broken sound slipping from his lips, and then it happens.
“Shit,” he gasps, his cock twitching violently against my cheek as he spills into me. His essence floods my mouth, hot and sticky, the taste raw and electric.
I drink him in, swallowing greedily, savoring his helplessness. Looking up at him, I hold his gaze, my tongue flicking out to catch the last traces of him on my lips. His eyes, wide and glassy, reflect the battle within him—shame, desire, and something darker.
Standing from my spot, I let the silence settle around us, heavy and suffocating. His chest heaves with shallow breaths, his body still trembling as he fights to regain control. I turn away, moving silently toward the counter, my steps deliberate and unhurried.
At the base of the counter, I press my hand to the hidden compartment. The soft metallic click echoes in the stillness as the gun slides free into my palm. Its cold weight feels grounding, a promise of what’s to come.
I don’t speak—I don’t need to. Something unspoken lingers in the air, thick and oppressive.
Reaching for the small set of keys, I turn back toward him. His gaze follows me, his body rigid, tension radiating off him in waves. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—fear, anger, or perhaps both.
“You run, I’ll shoot. I won’t miss.”
The words fall from my lips like a command, low and unwavering.
I kneel before him, the leash clinking softly as I unlock it from the ground. My grip on the chain remains firm, he won’t catch me off guard a second time. This time I’ll cut him down. Standing again, I hold it tightly in my hand, the connection between us palpable, like a tether binding him to me. A pet with his master.
“Walk.”
Using the gun, I gesture toward the door. He hesitates for the briefest moment before obeying, his movements stiff and mechanical.
The rain greets us immediately, cold and unrelenting, soaking us to the bone. The storm rages around us, the wind howling like a beast, the downpour drowning out all but the sound of our footsteps. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth and blood, sharp and metallic.
We walk in silence, the leash jingling softly with each step. The weight of the gun in my other hand feels reassuring, a constant reminder of the control I hold.
Then, a voice pierces the storm, sharp and fragile, slicing through the darkness.
“Ren!”
Byron freezes at the sound, his body going rigid, the chain pulling taut between us.
The silhouette becomes clearer with each step closer, faintly illuminated by flashes of lightning. A small figure, fragile against the night. Gabriela . How the fuck did you get here.
Her voice wavers, uncertain. “By—“
The words falter, dying in her throat as her eyes fall on us. On the chain in my hand, on the gun, on her brother’s slumped posture and our naked bodies. I see the realization hit her like a physical blow—the horror that spreads across her face, her lips trembling as she tries to process what she’s seeing.
Byron moves before I do, shoving me hard enough to make me stumble. My grip on the chain slips, and I raise the gun, firing instinctively.
The shot cracks through the storm, deafening. The bullet slams into a nearby tree, splintering the bark.
“RUN, GAbrIELA!” Byron’s voice is raw, desperate, cutting through the chaos.
For a moment, she doesn’t move, frozen in place, her eyes locked on me. Then, as if something snaps within her, she bolts into the woods, her figure vanishing into the shadows.
Byron lunges for me, and we hit the ground hard. Mud splatters around us as we grapple, his hands clawing for the gun. He’s desperate, his strength fueled by raw panic. His fingers jerk at my cock, yanking hard on the skin, and I snarl, the sharp pain igniting a fury within me.
I knee him in the face, the wet crack of bone against bone cutting through the storm. He crumples briefly, just enough for me to shove him off and scramble to my feet. But his hand pulls on the longer strands of my hair pulling me back to him. Throwing me into the wet grass. “Let her go, it’s me you want,” he snarls.
Sitting back on the wet ground, I laugh, the sound cutting through the storm like a blade. The rain pelts my face, cold and unrelenting, mixing with the blood smeared across my skin before looking up at him. Pointing towards the shed, “that mistake in there was supposed to be Gabriela,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos. “I was going to snuff your will, Byron. So you’d have no choice but to live for me. A puppet.”
Despite the darkness, I see his face contorting into anguish, his features twisting with fury. His fist comes down hard, connecting with my face in a sharp burst of pain. My head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t stop. Straddling me, his naked body trembling with rage, he lands blow after blow. His knuckles split against my skin, his strikes raw and desperate. “I will kill you.”
“I welcome death.” I hiss through clenched teeth, my hand snaking downward, wrapping around the piercing in his perineum. “But first, I’ll kill her.” I say as my fingers tug sharply, the metal digging into sensitive flesh. His body jerks violently, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he collapses to the side, clutching himself.
I shove him off and scramble to my feet, the cold rain cascading over my bare skin, mixing with the blood dripping from my split lip. Behind me, I hear his ragged breathing, then the squelching sound of his feet slipping in the mud as he tries to stand.
“Ren, I’ll kill you!” he roars, his voice hoarse, cutting through the storm.
I glance back, my lips curling into a feral grin. “Good. Someone needs to put me down.”
I pump my legs harder, the mud sucking at my bare feet, as rain pelts my body like icy needles. The forest around me feels alive, oppressive. Shadows dance with each flash of lightning, and the air reeks of wet earth and blood.
Ahead, I see her. Gabriela. She’s weaving between the trees, her movements frantic, her body illuminated briefly by the storm’s flickering light.
The gun in my hand feels slick and heavy, rainwater streaming off its surface. Raising it, I steady my aim, my breath even despite the chaos.
“Sorry it had to end this way,” I murmur, my voice soft, almost gentle, before pulling the trigger.
The shot cracks through the night, and she stumbles. Her scream pierces the storm, sharp and primal, before her body tumbles down a small hill, rolling into the underbrush.
I approach slowly, savoring the moment. The mud clings to my legs, thick and heavy, my steps deliberate. The rain drowns out most sounds, but I can still hear my breathing—calm, measured.
A flash of movement catches my eye. Byron. He’s trying to circle around me, his body glistening with rain, muscles taut with tension.
“Stop, or I’ll end her now,” I say, aiming the gun at her crumpled form below.
He freezes, the rock in his hand slipping free and landing with a dull thud in the mud. His chest heaves, his wide eyes darting to Gabriela. Her leg bleeds heavily through her torn jeans, her body slack and motionless, but I can see the faint rise and fall of her chest.
Byron drops to his knees, his voice cracking as he pleads. “Please… spare her. Take me. Do whatever you want to me, but let her live. I’d rather her hate me and be alive.”
I tilt my head, studying him. His desperation rolls off him in waves, but it’s hollow to me. Has he not been paying attention? Emotions mean nothing. They’re fragile, fleeting things, unable to touch the void inside me.
I glance back at Gabriela’s crumpled form, raising the gun slightly. And that’s when he moves.
He lunges for me, his wet, mud-slick body colliding with mine. The gun slips from my grasp as we tumble together, rolling down the hill. The rain makes everything slick, our naked bodies sliding against each other in the mud.
We hit the bottom hard, both gasping for breath. Byron recovers first, driving his knee into my ribs with a vicious force that makes me choke on the pain.
I fall back, laughing through the agony, the sound cutting through the storm.
“We can have it all,” I say, my voice rasping but steady. “Cut the cord.”
My hand finds the gun again, the familiar cold metal pressing into my palm. I aim, my finger tightening on the trigger. This time, the bullet hits its mark.
He cries out, collapsing as the shot tears into his leg. Blood pours freely, mixing with the mud and rain. He almost falls completely, but he catches himself, sheer will keeping him upright.
We grapple again, our bodies slipping and sliding in the muck, his strength fueled by desperation, mine by sheer determination. From my position beneath him, I see Gabriela stirring faintly, her hand clutching her head as she fights to regain consciousness.
My fingers dig into Byron’s bullet wound, pressing down hard. His scream is raw, guttural, his head snapping back in pain.
“I am the only one who accepts you, Byron,” I hiss through gritted teeth, my voice low and venomous. “The only one who sees you.”
His elbow crashes into my head, the force blinding. “Fuck you,” he snarls, his voice dripping with hatred.
I throw my head back into the mud, dazed but clutching the gun tightly. We continue to struggle, his body pinning mine down, rain and blood mingling as the chaos spirals.
Then, the gun goes off.
The pain is immediate, deep and searing in my chest. My breath hitches, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. For a moment, the world slows, the storm muffling as warmth spreads across my torso.
We both freeze, our eyes locking. I glance down at the crimson blooming across my chest, the vivid color stark against my pale skin.
I collapse backward into the mud, my body limp. “You did it,” I whisper, my voice faint, barely audible over the rain.
Byron doesn’t look at me. He scrambles to Gabriela, his hands trembling as he cradles her fragile body. My gaze stays fixed on them, the siblings huddled together, their love raw and unguarded—something I can’t understand but recognize all the same.
The distant sound of sirens grows louder, cutting through the storm. Byron rises, helping Gabriela to her feet, their forms glistening in the rain as they stumble away, their silhouettes fading into the trees.
Not once does he look back.
I cough, blood bubbling at my lips as my vision dims. My hand reaches out weakly, grasping at nothing.
“You don’t look too hot,” a familiar voice murmurs, breaking through the haze.
I squint, trying to focus, but the figure remains shrouded in shadow. My lips curl into a faint smirk as the void finally swallows me whole.