Chapter 7 #2
“I find that unethical,” he said. “Inflicting trauma and then expecting someone to return to normal.” He lifted my chin a fraction higher. “How.” Higher. “Fucking.” Higher. “Cruel.”
“How fucking boring,” Red Mask commented.
Enzo didn’t even glance at him.
“We’re all monsters here, Blair.” Enzo dragged the scissors from beneath my chin to my jawline, smearing Jett’s warm blood on my skin. “Some of us are just better at hiding it.”
“I guess that fits you, the man hiding behind a mask,” I said with a sneer.
The words barely left my mouth when Enzo hurled the scissors across the room. They hit the wall before clattering to the floor.
I held my breath when he slowly removed his mask and pulled down his hoodie. The sight of his face hit me harder than any blow he’d delivered to Jett.
I hated how my body reacted to it.
How I clenched my thighs. And how heat rushed low in my stomach, pooling between my legs like a river, and how my clit suddenly throbbed.
Hated how, for a moment, desire replaced my fear.
The villain of my story was devastatingly beautiful.
Beautiful in the way that a shark was before it bit you.
In the way a storm smelled before it blew through a home.
He was mesmerizing yet catastrophic, all at once.
Sweat gleamed along the sharp angles of his tawny face. His skin looked flawless, smooth, as if nothing would ever dare to mark it in fear of consequences.
Dark hair swept back in careless disarray. Untamed and wild, like him. His jaw was clean-shaven, his cheekbones sharp and deep, unmistakably Italian.
All features that made Jett’s claim about his family ruling the Italian Mafia feel even more believable.
His dark and wicked eyes were the sort that promised to take your world and never give it back.
He ran his tongue over his lips, then across his teeth, giving me my moment to stare. Then his mouth curled, his expression turning vicious like a triggered animal.
I glanced at Red Mask. He didn’t remove his mask.
Only Enzo had revealed himself. Only the one who deemed me his.
“Mask is off,” Enzo said, lifting the mask in one hand and spreading out his arms. “Do you see a monster, Blair?”
Reality swept into my bloodstream.
I couldn’t run or hide from him. No one would save me.
“Please,” Jett rasped, his voice breaking the silence. Blood cut his plea short as his head sagged forward.
Enzo raised Jett’s head to backhand him across the face. “I only enjoy pleading when it comes from my Fawns. Not from my victims.”
I stopped myself from correcting that his Fawns were also his victims.
Enzo’s attention shifted back to me. “Blair, do you want me to kill Jett?”
I snorted humorlessly, staring up at him until the strain made my neck hurt. “That can’t be a serious question.”
He smirked harshly. “What would you do for me to not kill him?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line, refusing to answer him.
I shuddered when Enzo reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing along my skin. “Would you bow at my feet and suck my cock in exchange for his release?”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
His mouth twitched; he was not offended at all. “Don’t worry. I won’t choke you with my cock yet. Fortunately for you, I don’t provide free shows.” His palm slid over my cheek. “Jett isn’t worthy to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my dick.”
“Why?” I fired back. “Because you’re embarrassed by your small cock?”
His lips spread into a cold, predatory smirk.
He pulled a knife from his pocket, flipping it in his hand, and ignored the sounds coming from Jett.
Jesus. Does he have an arsenal in his coat?
Does he think he’s John freaking Wick?
“Keep running your mouth,” Enzo told me, stepping toward Jett and digging the tip into the hollow of his throat, right against his Adam’s apple. “And I’ll make you slit the douchebag’s throat.”
Jett froze.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“I thought this was what you wanted, little Fawn.” He pressed the tip deeper into Jett’s neck. “Answers to your questions.”
“I’m not your fucking Fawn.”
“Yet.” He pulled the knife away from Jett’s throat, then lowered himself to his knees until we were at eye level, and ran the blade along my cheek.
His scent filled my lungs, nearly intoxicating me.
I studied his face up close—a masterpiece, like something rare and untouchable.
For a heartbeat, I considered crossing that line.
Enzo’s words cut through that thought.
“But soon, you’ll be mine,” he stated with absolute certainty.
My panting stalled when the blade lowered to the zip ties around my wrist. The plastic snapped when he sliced them. Blood rushed back into my hands, and my arms ached.
Enzo peeled off his glove the same way he had in the woods. He lifted his bare hand toward me, palm up, presenting it like a prize. I flinched, readying myself for the sting of his palm hitting my cheek.
It never came.
He had no intention to do that.
Instead, he dragged the blade across his own palm, carving a deep X into his skin. Blood welled around the open flesh.
I didn’t fight when his bloodied hand caught mine. He turned it over, exposing my palm. I hissed between my teeth when he carved the same mark across my palm. The pain seared through my hand.
The rest of the room ceased to exist at that moment.
Warm blood seeped from my cut. I watched, transfixed, as he pressed our palms together. He lowered the knife and covered our joined hands with his other palm.
An oath sealed with blood.
A holy vow.
A vow I never agreed to, but somehow couldn’t refuse.
Yet, as sinister as this moment was, intimacy bled through.
Enzo was a poison I knew would slowly kill me.
His softness was brief, as if Enzo’s sanity had a daily cap, and his cold voice broke through my trance.
His grip on my hand became painfully tight. “Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll kill your entire family.” He pulled me to my feet, still gripping my hand, and grabbed my chin.
He inched so close that we were nose to nose. Breath to breath. Mouth to mouth.
“I’ll gut your stepfather first, right in his New York office,” he explained. “Your mother will be next. The mother who hides more secrets than just the hideous tramp stamp she got when she was nineteen.”
I shuddered, chills tormenting me.
“I’ll make you watch me torture and kill them.” He snaked out his tongue, running it along the seam of my lips. “And once I’ve finished slaughtering them, I’ll force you to bathe in their blood before I drown you in it.”
I tried to bite his tongue, but he stopped me, shoving his hand into my mouth. He pressed his bloody palm against my jaw so hard that I waited for it to break. He released his grip just before it did.
He skimmed his nose against mine before his mouth grazed my ear.
His voice was only a whisper, yet it inflicted the fear of a thousand screams. “By the time I’m done with you, my little Fawn, you won’t remember who you were before me. I’ll own you, every inch of you, until the day you take your last breath.”