Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
HIM
B rian MacDonald exits the pizzeria and steps into the cool night, throwing back the last of his drink. He crushes the can against the brick of the shop and tosses it into a nearby trash bin before wiping his greasy hands on his pants. It is a habit of his to devour a large pepperoni and sausage pizza on his own, with beer on the side, every Tuesday and Thursday.
I watch as he shuffles down the sidewalk, passing a boarded-up bakery and a closed discount clothing store. This part of Fallbank is quiet, with the only sound the echo of his footsteps against the pavement. He pauses at the alleyway, peering inside as if expecting someone to be there. Then he lingers for a few moments before moving on, yet something has changed in his demeanor.
Perhaps he senses someone watching him.
I should cut his throat for looking at Gwen the way he does at work. But my interest wanes the more I observe him. I tail him for a few more blocks until he stops in front of a mid-sized, two-story house with peeling paint and crooked shutters. He takes out a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and disappears inside.
Getting rid of Brian had once been on my list. By now, I’ve watched him long enough that I know his routine. Ending his life would be simple; he lives alone and seldom has visitors. He mostly spends his time in his living room watching raunchy porn and jacking off. However, killing him wouldn’t have the impact I need it to have on her.
I stand in the shadows, contemplating my next move. Although I don’t have the urge to kill him tonight, I still need to make my Little Finch pay somehow. She must be punished for her hesitation, for not doing what needed to be done. A wicked smile plays on my lips. I’ll have to figure out another way to make her learn from her mistake.
I can increase surveillance on her friends, follow them wherever they go to collect more information about their activities. Her care for them is one of the few things I have leverage on—other than her true identity and past. Making a grand statement at the festival will show her there is nowhere to hide and that her mistake has consequences. It’s the perfect plan.
I’m always one step ahead, and she’ll find that out the hard way.
I return to my car and leave, imagining the kind of suffering I can bring down on my Little Finch. It will be something she will never forget.
I swing by Nick Campbell’s residence. To my amusement, Zoey comes storming out of the house, her cheeks splotchy with tears, clutching a piece of paper in her hand. Nick rushes after her onto the porch, his hair disheveled. I park across the street, roll down my window, and pull my hood down as they exchange heated words.
“You can’t do this to me!” she shouts. “I trusted you!”
His expression hardens. “Look,” he begins, his voice taut with anger, “you need to understand that treating Jen that way is unacceptable. I was always loyal to you.”
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “Then what the hell is this?!” She thrusts the paper at him. “She wrote you a fucking love letter, Nick. And by the sounds of it, you two have gotten pretty damn close these past weeks.”
His brow furrows, and he runs a hand over his face with a sigh. “I like her, yeah, but?—”
“It’s called ‘emotional cheating,’ you asshole,” she snaps. “You led me on and told me what I wanted to hear, but it’s obvious you had feelings for someone else the whole time!”
He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear. We talked, got closer, and?—”
“It’s over,” she says through sniffles, turning away from him.
He reaches for her, but she coldly shrugs him off before turning on her heel and walking away without looking back. His shoulders slump as he stares after her, watching as she drives off. He hangs his head in shame, runs a hand through his hair, and vanishes into the house.
What an opportune time to eavesdrop; it seems the dynamics of Gwen’s friend group have shifted. I’d heard stories about the drama of unrequited love—watched movies and read books about it—but witnessing it firsthand is an entirely novel experience.
Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind.
Jen and Gwen also have become close in recent months. Maybe I can use that.
As I brainstorm an approach, my burner phone rings. I grab it from my bag, curious who would call at this hour. It better not be David or, God forbid, William , I think, answering it.
“Hey, Blake,” Gwen greets. “Sorry to call you so late.”
I force a smile, my metaphorical mask in place. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I ask, my tone joking.
She chuckles. “Yeah. But surprise, surprise—some of my coworkers called off again.” Immediately, I think of Zoey and Nick, and resist the urge to snicker. “Anyway, I wanted to know if we were still on for this weekend. I meant to call you sooner to confirm, but …”
“It’s okay. We’re still on.” I sigh, feigning weariness at the situation. “Still have to write that article and work, but we can hang out in between my obligations. ”
“That sounds great,” she says. “What time do you wanna meet at the festival?”
“Well, I’m supposed to be there early, so …” I trail off, unsure if I should give her an exact time. “It’s a bit touch and go at the moment. I’ve never covered an event like this before.”
“Oh, okay.” The bell chimes, and she adds, “I’ll see you there!” She hangs up before I can say anything.
I slip the phone back into my bag and lean back into the seat, shaking my head. It’s amazing how she shows absolutely no guilt about ‘cheating’ on Blake with Damon. I mean, technically it’s not cheating, but …
Ugh. I can’t fucking stand cheaters.
After stopping at Gwen’s apartment to grab some supplies, I drive to Epic Flix Rentals and park in an alley down the street. I then don my black attire and mask, secure my knife in its sheath, and cautiously make my way towards the back of the building, blending into the shadows.
My senses heighten as I approach the store. Faint voices emanate from inside, indicating the presence of people. Carefully, I peer into a window and spot a couple standing at the counter, engaged in discussion. Another woman browses an aisle. I move further around the back, ensuring that I remain undetected.
I try the handle to the back entrance door, but it’s locked. How clever of you, Little Finch , I think, reaching into one of my pockets for a tool. After some effort, I unlock the door and quietly slip inside, locking it behind me. I’ll have to wait for the customers to leave before I can begin part of Gwen’s punishment.
Hiding behind a stack of boxes in the storage room, I eagerly wait for the store to empty. I take out my knife; a heady rush of anticipation curls in my stomach at the sight of the blade. I’m going to enjoy this. All I have to do is wait a bit longer …
The couple finishes their conversation and leaves the store. A few minutes later, the other woman departs, leaving me alone with Gwen—who begins to lock up. Now’s my chance . I step out of my hiding place, blade held firmly in hand, and make my way into the break room. With no security cameras active, it’s easy for me to maneuver around.
The door to the main floor is slightly ajar, so I sneak a peek. She’s nowhere to be found. I creep out the door and stealthily round a corner, pressing up against the wall before peering around. No sign of her. A clattering sound from the public restroom grabs my attention. I hastily jog over to the other side of the store, getting myself into position to get the jump on her. The toilet flushes, and I grip the knife, ready to confront her.
After washing her hands, she opens the door—and gasps at the sight of me, before quickly reigning in her surprise. “What are you doing here?” she demands, pulling out a box cutter from her belt. “How did you get in? ”
I laugh, stepping forward as she takes a defensive stance. “Did you think a simple lock would stop me?” Her eyes widen as I aim my blade directly at her throat. But to her credit, she tries to school her features.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice steady, though her grip on the weapon is shaky.
“Gwen,” I say sternly, “you have done something very wrong, and now it’s time for you to face the consequences.” She takes a step back, but I know she will not run away. That would be too easy for my Little Finch; her pride is too strong to flee like a coward. So she stands tall, her gaze never diverting from mine. “We both know what needs to be done.”
She takes a deep breath, then nods slowly. “Yes,” she says quietly. “We do.”
I think she’s about to hand me the box cutter—my mistake for assuming she would play fair, obviously—when she tries to jab it into my side. Stupid, crazy bitch . I easily dodge her, then grab her wrist before she can move away. There’s a futile struggle as I tighten my grip before she finally gives up, dropping the box cutter to the ground.
“You should have known better,” I growl, shaking my head in disappointment. I press the tip of my blade against her throat, just hard enough to cause a thin line of blood to rise to the surface.
“What now?” she asks, her breathing shallow.
“Now,” I say, “you learn your lesson.”
As she stares at the ground in silence, likely expecting the worst, I keep the blade trained on her neck and lead her toward the break room. I lock the door behind us and push her toward the table.
“Strip,” I command, my tone brooking no refusal. “ Everything .”
She looks at me, her eyes narrowed with hostility. While she may be brave, she also knows she can’t fight me. Reluctantly, she unbuttons her shirt, and the tension in the room builds as each piece of clothing falls away, leaving her completely exposed before me.
My eyes sweep over her body as I admire what I see. She tries to hide her squirm, and I smirk at the look of humiliation on her face. “Do you understand why this is happening?” I ask, my voice cold and unforgiving.
She nods and swallows hard, her clothing still in a pile near her feet. I come closer to run my gloved fingers down her cheek before shoving her down on the table. Her plush ass hits it, making her yelp in surprise. She looks at me, her eyes tinged with fear. I can tell she’s trying to find some way out, but there isn’t one.
“Now,” I say, circling her like a predator considering its prey, “can you tell me what you’ve done to deserve punishment?”
She nods and mumbles a soft, “Yes.”
Exasperated, I forcefully grab her chin. “Use your voice, sweetie.”
Defiance sparks in her eyes. “I refused to kill someone. And now you think I’m not loyal,” she answers, practically spitting the words.
“That’s partially right.” I chuckle. “And what else? ”
She shifts her gaze away from mine, her jaw clenching. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My expression darkens. Either she’s playing dumb, or I’ve given her too much credit. “C’mon, I know you know. Use your cute little brain,” I say, tapping the flat side of the blade on my hood.
“I … I don’t know,” she mumbles.
My eyes narrow in disappointment at her lack of confession. “Fine. We’ll do this your way, then.” I move her so that she is facing the wall, feet still on the floor, and lean close to her ear. “Last chance. It’ll only get worse from here,” I murmur, brushing my fingers across her bare neck. “Have you been fucking a serial killer behind your boyfriend’s back?”
Her breathing hitches, tension coiling in her body. She trembles slightly, fearing what is to come, then nods almost imperceptibly.
“So, she finally admits it,” I say, yanking her arms behind her back. “Slut needs to be punished then, hm?” I exchange my knife for handcuffs and put them around her wrists, snapping them shut. She gasps as she feels them lock into place but says nothing.
Even in this situation, I can’t help but admire the delicate beauty of her skin and the way it contrasts with the cold metal and the elaborate bird tattoo on her back. But with her now helplessly captive in cuffs, a dark thrill courses through me. She attempts to wiggle away, but I grab her neck in warning.
“Don’t move,” I growl. “Stay put like a good girl, and maybe I’ll consider going easy on you.” She stills with a rebellious exhale through her nose before I loosen my grip. “Spread your legs.”
She refuses, keeping her legs tightly clamped together. I sigh and push my knee between them, forcing her thighs to part. Now completely exposed to me, she trembles but remains silent.
My cock throbs with need as I take in every inch of her body: the curves that make my mouth water, her glistening core, her fleshy ass, and the desperate expression on her face as she awaits my next move. I trace my fingers around the curves of her hips. She quakes under my touch, but I can feel arousal coursing through her. A subtle fire longing to be ignited.
She’s completely at my mercy.
I slide a single finger inside her pussy, followed by another, and then one more. Relishing her whimpers of pleasure, I move my fingers at an angle, stroking her inner walls. I touch her clit with my other hand, stroking it with the harsh leather pads of my digits. She pants, her body begging for more. Bigger. Faster. Deeper. My greedy girl craves it all.
She yearns for a release I’m not yet ready—or willing—to give.
I want to drive her wild, to make her beg and plead with me for satisfaction. I want her desperate and consumed under my control.
“I need you inside of me,” she moans, her pussy slick with desire.
I smirk, withdrawing my fingers, making her gasp at their sudden absence. “Oh, really?” I say mockingly, unzipping my pants. I palm myself a few times, groaning, and rub my length up and down between her soaking folds. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
She nods, her breath coming out in short bursts. “Yes, please,” she begs.
Her warmth envelops me as I slide my cock into her pussy. She moans, her body quivering as I thrust into her. I move faster, each snap of my hips harder than the last. She tightens around me. But I can’t come yet. And neither can she. I won’t allow it. Just as her body tumbles toward an orgasm, I pull out, leaving her clenching painfully on nothing.
She lets out a disappointed whine. “What the fuck?!”
I ignore her, running myself up and down her slit again. “You’re so drenched,” I remark, pulling a small container of lube out of my pocket. “But we can do better than that.” I squirt a dollop onto her tight ring, causing her to flinch. “Relax. You’re just lucky I’m feeling generous despite you misbehaving.” It’s not like I want to tear her ass entirely apart.
But I still want her to hurt.
I touch her ring, dipping a lube-coated finger into it. Then another. She gasps, her ass gradually relaxing around my digits. I continue working her open, coaxing delicious little gasps and whines from her lips. After slathering my cock with lube, I slip the bottle back into my pocket and guide myself inside her tight ass. Though not without some resistance.
“You’ll take my cock, Little Finch,” I say, rolling my hips forward as my head fights to go through. “And you’ll like it.”
She yelps, her knuckles turning white, fisting her hands as the head of my cock slides into her ass. Inch by inch, I sink into her, her pained cries like a balm for the vise she traps me in. Her body quivers as I push in, further and further, until I’m seated completely. Tears leak from her eyes, and she moans, writhing against me as she adjusts to the intrusion.
“Fuck, it feels so …” She trails off, lost in the sensation of me stuffing her completely.
I give her only a moment before I grasp her hips, setting my pace. “So hot, so tight,” I grunt as she bucks back against me, eager and wanting more.
She mewls, completely lost in the moment as I plow her inner depths. Her clit, swollen and oversensitive, goes ignored as I fuck her. Seeing her round ass stretched around my dick is enough to send me over the edge. I plunge inside in one smooth stroke—and I explode, spilling hot ropes of cum, roaring as I fill her up.
Before she can chase her release, I grab the final supply I brought—a jeweled butt plug, one from her own collection—and push it into her ass the moment I withdraw.
She takes a moment to realize what’s happened, but she eventually bites out, “Are you fucking serious? You put that in, and you’re just gonna leave me this way?!”
I don’t bother holding back the laughter as I tuck myself away. “Keep my cum inside of you as you drive home,” I say, smirking as I unlock her cuffs. “And think of me. Have a good night, Little Finch.”
I bid her farewell and slip out the back.
When she gets home, she’s going to be pissed when she discovers that I’ve stolen all her sex toys.