Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
REMI
D omino walked into the living area of his apartment, bare-chested, water droplets glistening on his skin as they slid over his pecs and down his abs, tracing the lines of his ink.
I licked my lips hungrily. His intense gaze caught mine, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he prowled toward me. He didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate. He placed a heavy hand on my chest and pushed me back against the couch. His thick thighs caged me in as he sank down behind me, his nose skimming my shoulder, dragging up my neck as he inhaled deeply, a groan vibrating against my skin.
“What are you doing?” His low rasp wrapped around me like silk, like a noose tightening around my throat.
I forced myself to focus, eyes flicking to the files strewn across the floor. The ones from Brielle’s office and home. They cataloged every one of her crimes, not just those tied to Federico. The tangled web of deceit she wove stretched far. Murdering patients for their inheritance. Extorting families. Blackmail. Incinerating bodies for DeMarco. Hollow Pines Care Home was built on blood money, just like everything else in Marlow Heights.
Was I a hypocrite for choosing this life with Domino? His place, cars, bike—all of it was funded the same way. But that wasn’t what tethered us together. We were bonded on a deeper, darker level. We were obsession, sin, and death incarnate. We reveled in it. We needed it. We hungered for the rush of taking a life, for the power of holding it over someone’s head.
His arm looped around my throat, his grip just tight enough to steal my breath, to remind me who was in control. My body reacted instantly, my cock twitching, my mind slipping into that delicious haze only he could pull me into. His presence devoured my thoughts, swallowing them whole.
“I want to make Brielle suffer before we end her,” I whispered, my voice raw.
Domino hummed, his lips brushing my ear as he trailed his fingers down my cheek, forcing me to turn until our mouths barely touched, our breaths mingling.
“Psychological games?”
“Yes.” My eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled, my inhale swallowing it whole. “I think we need to keep her alive as long as Mom is—to make sure she gets the care she needs.”
“Mmm.”
His knuckles ghosted over my jaw before his fingers hooked into the collar of my hoodie, dragging it over my head. He moved me effortlessly, pulling me onto his lap, my legs straddling his thick thighs. My cock pressed against his stomach. His green eyes burned into me—deep, dark, shimmering with flecks of gold that reflected the firelight dancing along the walls.
I was hypnotized. Drawn in.
My lips brushed his, teasing, but Domino wasn’t one to be teased. He took. He devoured. He consumed. His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue invading, stealing the very air from my lungs as he deepened the kiss. Thick fingers tangled in my hair, yanking me closer, grounding me, keeping me where he wanted me.
My body vibrated with need. My skin burned where he touched. My blood turned electric in my veins.
I was his in every way.
The arrow that he would shoot.
The blade for him to wield.
The darkness he drowned in.
The sin that balanced his devil.
I rocked against him, chasing friction, my hips grinding down. His thighs spread wider, his cock thick and hard beneath me.
“Fuck, you taste like the darkest sin,” he groaned, nipping my bottom lip, his grip bruising as he claimed me. “You taste like mine.”
We lost ourselves in each other. Desperate touches. Biting kisses that would linger for days. Clothes abandoned, bodies pressed together, sweat slicked and fevered. I broke away, panting, my forehead resting against his as my hands clutched his shoulders.
“I want you to help me.”
Domino huffed a dark laugh, his hands gripping my waist like he might never let go. “You don’t have to ask. I go wherever you go.”
Once, those words would have terrified me. Now, they have settled deep in my bones. This was what we were. What we’d always been. The twisted, unshakable gravity between us. His demons recognized mine. They played together, danced together, reveling in the chaos we brought each other.
His hand wrapped around both our cocks, his grip tight, his strokes slow, teasing. My breath hitched as he ran his thumb over my slit, smearing precum down our lengths, using it to slick his touch.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.”
I whimpered, my body arching, my spine bowing as he worked me over, coaxing, commanding. His mouth captured mine, swallowing my gasps, my moans, my everything. He played me like an instrument, like he’d written the melody of my body himself.
“Spit,” he ordered, his voice guttural, his cock pulsing in his grip against mine.
I leaned forward, dribbling spit onto the crown of his thick length. A growl ripped through his chest as the hot liquid rolled down his shaft, slick and messy.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, his muscles tensing, his grip tightening.
“I-I’m so close…”
He stroked faster, his rhythm brutal, his hand unrelenting. My mind fragmented, lost to him, to this, to the way he owned me so completely.
“Come.”
My orgasm crashed into me without warning, thick ropes of cum painting his chest and abs. The sight, the feeling, the sheer intensity of it pushed him over the edge, his release spilling hot and wet between us.
I collapsed against him, my body spent, my skin tingling in the aftershocks.
His hand curled around my nape, fingers sliding into my damp hair. He turned my head, his lips brushing my ear, his breath still ragged.
“We will make her lose her mind,” he murmured, dark and promising. “So when the time comes, she will beg for it to end.”
We didn’t go after Brielle immediately. No matter how much I wanted to see her bloodied and broken beneath me.
I wanted her to feel it first.
To suffer like she’d made so many others.
To feel the slow creep of paranoia sinking into her bones like venom. To see the way shadows stretched too long, twisting unnaturally at the edges of her vision. To suffer through the silence that pressed in thick and suffocating—not empty, but watching . Waiting.
I let it take root inside her, sink into her bones inch by inch.
By the time I truly started, she was already fraying at the edges. I saw it in the way she flinched at the softest sounds, how she clutched her purse with white-knuckled desperation, her breath catching when her own reflection flickered in a passing window like an unfamiliar ghost.
She was afraid, but she didn’t know why yet. I would give her a reason. That was the best part.
I wanted her to unravel before I ever laid a hand on her. I wanted her to come apart at the seams, piece by agonizing piece, until she was raw and trembling. Until she begged for the end.
And I wanted him to see me do it. I wanted Domino’s approval like I needed air. He was my center. The blood in my veins. My gravity.
Her predictability made it easy. She was fragile. And fragile things shattered .
The first time I followed her, I kept my distance—just a shadow slipping between the cracks of her awareness. But the second time, I let her feel me.
A dark figure in the reflection of a store window. There and gone, just long enough for the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Just long enough to send her heart skittering against her ribs as she whipped around, eyes wide and searching.
That’s when I melted back into the shadows.
A fleeting presence in the parking garage.
The soft click of a shoe on pavement behind her—too quiet to be real, too loud to ignore.
She started clutching her purse like a lifeline. Breathing in quick, shallow gasps. She felt me now. She just didn’t know where I was.
And Domino was watching.
He liked watching me learn and let go of the restraints society imposed on me. He wanted me to be free to be exactly what I was always meant to be, and with him by my side, I was starting to embrace it all.
“You’re enjoying this,” he murmured one night, trailing his fingers along the nape of my neck.
We were parked outside a restaurant, engine off, the streetlights throwing fractured shadows over the sharp angles of his face. His gaze never left mine.
I swallowed, pulse thrumming under his touch. “I like watching her fall apart.”
His smile was slow. Indulgent. Proud.
“Good.”
It wasn’t enough.
I wanted more .
More ways to get inside her head. More ways to make her question reality until she was drowning in uncertainty. I needed her to know —not just suspect, not just fear—but know that I had the power to destroy her in every conceivable way. That every breath she took, every trembling heartbeat, was a borrowed luxury. And that it was me coming for her. Me, with the hounds of hell snapping at my heels.
I could see it now.
Her downfall.
Her death.
Her destruction.
It would be beautiful . Painful. An endless oblivion of torment, and I would be the architect of every moment.
When I told Domino, a sinister laugh slipped past his lips before they curled in satisfaction. His dark green eyes gleamed in the dim light of the lounge, fingers tapping rhythmically against my leg as he considered me. “I have just the man for the job. Go wait in the spare room.”
That’s when I met Ghost—properly.
He was younger than I expected—only a few years older than me—but there was something unsettling in the amused smirk he wore, like he found all of this entertaining. Like he knew something I didn’t.
I was still new to this world, still learning how deep the abyss went. Ghost had been born in it. Raised in it. He thrived in the dark. And that’s exactly where we worked.
The only light came from the eerie glow of his monitors, multiple screens flashing with lines of code and intercepted feeds, painting his face in shades of neon blues and greens. But I liked it. The intimacy of the darkness. The way it heightened the tension—the chase .
Ghost taught me how to bypass surveillance feeds. How to reroute alarms. How to crawl into Brielle’s world unseen and make sure she felt me breathing down her neck even when I was miles away.
“Messy,” he muttered one night, watching me attempt to break into her security system.
“I got through,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but not cleanly. You tripped two silent alerts last night. If she had a decent system, she’d already know you were inside.” He spun lazily in his chair, cracking his knuckles. “If you’re gonna learn, you better do it right.”
Domino was behind me, leaning against the desk, fingers absently tracing along my shoulder. “Show him,” he murmured. Ghost obeyed without hesitation.
Hours passed. I learned. Perfected. I adapted until I could move through firewalls like they were nothing more than gauzy curtains. Until I could watch her from every angle, track her every move without a single blip on her radar.
Once I had that, we moved on to her finances.
We drained her accounts. Redirected her money. Watched as she broke out in a cold sweat at her desk, her hands trembling over her keyboard as she checked and rechecked numbers that didn’t add up. The hidden cameras Domino had planted everywhere gave me a front-row seat to her unraveling.
I devoured it.
Her fear tasted sweet.
Her perfect facade melted away, revealing the raw, brittle bones beneath.
“You don’t have to be the strongest in the room,” Domino murmured one night, his fingers drifting to my collarbone, our sweat-slicked skin the only thing between us. “Just the one who sees everything .”
And I did .
I saw her at work, barely holding herself together in front of her clients. I saw her at home, double-checking locks that no longer mattered. I saw her in her car, gripping the wheel too tightly, jumping at shadows that weren’t there.
She started sleeping with a gun on her nightstand. She thought it would help .
It wouldn’t.
Nothing would stop me from wrecking her.
Ghost smirked at me, nudging my shoulder. “You’ve done well, young padawan. But there’s one last thing we need to handle.”
“What?” I glanced at him, my mind still tangled in thoughts of Brielle’s slow descent into madness.
“You need to amend the terms of your trust fund.”
“Oh.” That had slipped my mind.
“ And ,” Ghost continued, spinning his pen between his fingers, “I figured you might want to leak everything Brielle and Brock have done. Once they’re no longer breathing, of course. Destroy their name completely. Make sure no one remembers them as anything but the fucking filth they are.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I’d been small-minded . Too focused on the immediate. But this —this was a reckoning that would extend beyond their deaths. This was their legacy going up in flames.
I rubbed my hands together, leaning toward him. “I’m in.”
Ghost clapped me on the back. “That’s my boy.”
Something strange flickered in my chest. A tight pull at the edges of my ribs. Ghost didn’t question me. Didn’t hesitate at my silence and didn’t push when I got lost in the haze of my mind, drowning in visions of blood and retribution.
I understood the darkness. Craved it now that my eyes had been opened, but he welcomed it.
Domino had been called away by his father, leaving Ghost and me alone—something he wasn’t fond of. He didn’t like me being out of his line of sight lately. His possessiveness had grown to be all-consuming after he had claimed me in front of everyone at Deveraux. That story had spread like wildfire through Marlow Heights.
Ghost worked in silence for hours, fingers flying over the keyboard, shifting between encrypted records and security systems like he was playing. But the moment his smirk faded into a frown, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
“Remi,” he said, voice unreadable. “Look at this.”
I turned to the screen, rows of falsified documents flickering beneath the glow of the monitor. Blackmail payments. Redacted reports. None of it surprising—I’d found similar files in Brielle’s office.
But then I saw it.
The name.
Domino’s mother .
A strange, sharp pulse of something dark curled inside me.
“What do you know about his mother?” Ghost asked.
Not much. Domino was a vault when it came to Catalina. Getting him to talk about her was like pulling teeth. “Only that she died when he was a kid. He said the Gallos killed her.”
Ghost exhaled, something unreadable flashing through his eyes before he masked it. “That’s the story Federico told him, that the Gallos cut the brakes on her car. That she died on impact. Domino only survived because he was strapped into a car seat.”
A storm churned inside me.
A lie .
Everything Federico told him. Everything he believed .
If these documents were correct… Brielle had something to do with her death.
My vision sharpened, thoughts tightening into something sharp and focused. Not rage .
Calculation.
“Domino’s going to want to see this,” Ghost murmured, studying me. “What do you think he’ll do?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I already knew .
When the lid to Pandora’s Box was opened, hell would be unleashed on Marlow Heights. And every single person involved in Catalina’s murder and cover-up would burn.
“Print everything you’ve got,” I said, tension knotting in my gut. “I’ll tell him.”
Ghost’s gaze burned into me, assessing, dissecting. “Let me know, because I do not want to be collateral damage.”
I snorted. Everyone feared Domino—even those closest to him. But something dark and twisted pulsed inside me. I was different. I didn’t fear him. The dread in Ghost’s eyes only made me smirk.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he muttered as more files flickered onto the screen.
A hollow laugh rumbled in my chest. “I’ll light the match and stand by him when he burns it all to the ground.”
Brielle was breaking. Crumbling under the weight of her fear. And when I finally revealed myself, I saw it—the hollow look in her eyes, the paranoia twisting her features.
The deserted parking garage set the perfect stage. Rain pounded the pavement, broken streetlights flickered, casting eerie glows between the abandoned cars. The wind howled, cutting through the concrete pillars.
I perched on the hood of her car, watching. Listening.
Her heels clicked, sharp against the concrete. Every few steps, she glanced over her shoulder. The sound of glass bottles rolling somewhere in the dark made her flinch.
Tension hummed between us.
My fingers traced over the broken seams of my jeans, counting the beats of my heart as she neared. A slow, sickening countdown.
I raised my head as she approached. A sinister smile curved my lips, my tongue over my top teeth when she saw me.
A flicker of terror. Her breath hitched. Her body locked up for half a second before she masked it, rolling back her shoulders, narrowing her eyes.
“What the fuck do you want, Remi?”
I huffed a laugh, rolling my eyes.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, debating between her phone and the gun she thought would save her. But she was all front—nothing of substance existed beneath her skin. I knew that now.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Her sneer was ugly. “You think you’re in control?” she spat.
I examined my painted black nails, feigning boredom.
“You think he loves you? You’re a pet, Remi. A fucking trophy. And when he’s bored, he’ll throw you away like the rest.”
I tilted my head and smiled. “Takes one to know one. Where’s Federico, mm?”
Her breath stuttered. Eyes widened. But before she could run—before she could even scream—Domino was behind her. The rag covered her face in an instant. A sharp, sickly-sweet scent filled the air.
It pulled a panicked gasp from her throat, and recognition flashed in her eyes. She struggled, but she was already weak, already broken down by sleepless nights and fear that had been eating her alive from the inside.
She went limp in his arms. I grabbed her legs, and together, we folded her into the trunk of the SUV.
And then—we took her.
Brielle woke up surrounded by suffocating, never-ending darkness. Her wrists were crudely bound behind her back, shoes missing, clothes torn and damp from the light rain that still fell.
The silence stretched, and there was no sound beyond her ragged, uneven breathing. The air was thick and damp, the scent of pine and earth heavy around us.
She was alone.
Or so she thought.
I let her panic bloom, let her mind spiral. I savored the way her breaths turned sharp and frantic, the way her fingers flexed against the restraints.
Let her feel true isolation before I stepped into the dim moonlight.
“Do you understand now?” I asked softly.
She jerked at the sound of my voice, trying to scramble back, but Domino caught her ankle, dragging her back to us with slow, methodical ease.
“This isn’t real,” she whispered, voice breaking.
I crouched in front of her, tilting my head. “That’s the problem with people like you. You think your perception defines reality.”
Her lips trembled. Mascara painted black rivers down her pale cheeks.
Domino sighed, disappointed. Bored. His knife flashed, pressing just under her collarbone—enough to draw a slow, crimson bead of blood.
“You’re going to feel us everywhere,” I murmured.
Her pulse thundered beneath the steel. I licked my lips. Images of her body distorted and broken like a sculpture, blood dripping from the wound on her neck as she hung suspended, a pool spreading across the ground beneath her, filled my mind.
“You’re going to hear our footsteps even when we’re not there,” Domino continued. The blade traced up, teasing the edge of her jaw. “You’re going to wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if we’re watching.” I leaned in, my breath ghosting over her ear. “Because we are.”
She let out a broken, choked sob.
I smiled, baring my teeth. “I know...”
Her confusion was fleeting—fear swallowed her whole, freezing her in place. Dirt smeared across her skin. Scratches bled red from where sticks and stones had cut into her flesh.
I pulled out my sketchbook. Pencil in hand. The need to draw what I saw flowed through my veins.
Domino watched, intrigued, as I began to draw. Quick, deliberate strokes, lines forming the outline of Brielle as she was now—fragile, terrified, crumbling.
She didn’t even notice at first.
Her breath hitched when she saw. “W-what are you doing?” she stammered, her voice shaking.
I didn’t look up. “Capturing something beautiful.”
Her whole body shook.
“You’re most beautiful when you don’t know death is watching,” I said softly.
My pencil glided over the page, sketching the curve of her trembling fingers, the way her lips parted in fear.
“I could kill you right now.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“But I won’t,” I murmured. “Not yet. Not as long as she’s alive.”
Domino wasn’t watching her anymore. He was watching me.
His smile was slow. Dark. Proud.
I snapped my sketchbook shut. “We should go.”
Domino tilted his head. “What about her?”
I turned, walking away. Then, just before I disappeared into the shadows, I glanced back at Brielle—sprawled on the ground, dirt streaking her skin, eyes wide with terror.
“She’ll find her way out. Eventually .”
And when she did—she’d never feel safe again.
Domino chuckled, stepping toward her as she scrambled backward on her hands and feet. “Are you sure?”
“Brielle,” I called, my voice carrying through the night. She halted mid-shuffle, her spine stiffening, dread curling around her like a second skin.
She clambered to her feet, turning slowly, movements jerky, breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The moonlight painted her in shades of fear—wide, unblinking eyes, and parted lips quivering on the cusp of a scream.
“I know everything.”
The weight of those words shattered her like a killing blow. She stumbled, her knees buckled, fingers twitching at her sides. Fight or flight. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t.
I stepped closer, basking in her unraveling. “Soon… everyone will know. The truth.”
The color drained from her face, leaving her ghost-pale, her expression torn between disbelief and sheer, unrelenting terror.
Domino moved behind me, swift and silent as a shadow, before shoving me to the ground. My hands hit the damp earth, a breathless gasp forced from my lungs.
A hollow, depraved laugh rumbled from Domino’s chest, a sound that sent a shudder racing down my spine. Rough fingers wrenched my jeans down, the air sharp against my exposed skin. His presence loomed behind me, his body a furnace, heat radiating from him in waves.
“I need you,” he growled, voice feral, raw with hunger.
He wrenched one of my arms behind my back. The slick whisper of steel cut through the night—the snick of his switchblade being flicked open. A sharp sting blossomed against my wrist, followed by the slow, searing slide of blood down my skin. The scent of metal mingled with the damp earth, heady and intoxicating. Cold fingers spread me apart, holding me open for him. Scorching drops of blood dripped down between my cheeks, the blunt head of his cock notched against my entrance.
I moaned, a sound that barely belonged to me, guttural and wrecked. My body tensed as he pushed against me. Without prep or further warning, he thrust into me brutally.
A cry tore from my throat, a perfect collision of pain and pleasure. My fingers dug into the dirt as he drove deeper, forcing me to take all of him. Each thrust was brutal, precise—a claim, a brand, an unspoken vow carved into my very being.
Mine.
Brielle turned at the sound of our ragged, animalistic breaths, her face twisting in horror. Her eyes locked on mine—on the way my lips parted in bliss, the way my body yielded to every punishing thrust.
She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, horror morphing into something close to revulsion.
That’s when Domino wrapped a bloodied arm around my chest, yanking me upright, my back flush against his chest. The blade in his hand dragged lazily up my throat, smearing my blood across my skin.
Brielle’s scream shattered the night.
She ran.
Domino’s laughter followed her, dark and predatory, howling through the trees like the devil himself was chasing her.
I shattered, dissolving into pure sensation—his touch, his heat, the way he owned me so completely I could no longer tell where he ended and I began.
I was his.
I had always been his.
And if this was hell, I would burn for him forever.