Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
HIM
D amon has been getting antsy lately, so I’ve let him out to play.
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music as the tires of the rental car hum along the road. The scenery has transformed from flat highways with trees on either side to rolling hills dotted with small farms and houses. The engine roars in protest, but I don’t pay attention to it. My mind is too busy running through all the potential scenarios that await me at my destination.
I pass a sign that reads: Welcome to Ellsward County, home of PA’s most beautiful lake s. I can’t help but think that they’re only highlighting their natural beauty to divert attention from what they’re actually known for—the infamous Lakestone Reaper.
I’ve been here before. After moving to Pennsylvania for college, I would often visit Cameron’s old house on the weekends. Patricia left him before the authorities uncovered his killing spree, and he had already given up the property—the same property that’s currently in their daughter’s name. Gwen lived there with her mother’s string of shitty boyfriends.
One day, little Gwen snapped and took matters into her own hands by grabbing a knife and stabbing one of her stepfathers. Despite what the papers said, people talk, and I took advantage of that by posing as a journalist interested in writing a book. The townspeople were more than happy to divulge information about those years, proving that gossip trumps shame.
Since I moved to Fallbank, I haven’t returned to Lakestone. Now I’m back, but for a different reason. After parking the car out of sight down the road, I sling my bag over my shoulder and make the trek to Cameron’s house.
Gravel crunches under my boots as I survey the property. Years of untamed weeds and bushes choke the yard. The mailbox, rusted and forgotten, mirrors the fate of the house itself. With its peeling paint, sagging roof, and lopsided shutters, the house looks like no one has cared for it in years. I go on the porch, stepping on the faded welcome mat.
This place was a prison for Gwen. And now it stands here, desolate and abandoned.
As I open the creaky door and step inside the house, the smell of mildew immediately hits me. The wind whistles through the broken windows; rain must have soaked the floorboards. It also appears that someone threw a party, based on the old cans of beer and scattered food wrappers. I pause and listen for any sound, but it seems Gwen hasn’t arrived yet.
I would call her to check if she’s still at the apartment, but with the terrible cellular signal, I’ll just have to wait. I make my way up the stairs, carefully avoiding the loose boards that could give way at any moment. Upon reaching the top, I find myself standing in front of a small room with bare walls and nothing but an old mattress on the floor—covered with blankets and stains I’d rather not investigate closely.
A noise outside interrupts my thoughts. Cautiously, I peek out the window and see Gwen park her car and get out. She looks exhausted as she subtly drags her feet along the gravel path. I clutch my bag, planning my escape. But ultimately, I decide to stay and surprise her. Damon demands it.
I don my mask—and let him out.
I wait for her to come into the house, but the minutes trickle by with no sign of her. Quiet as a mouse, I creep down the stairs, pausing with every step to listen for any sound. When I reach the bottom, it seems she hasn’t noticed anything. I look out the peephole, curious about what could have made her so unaware of her surroundings.
Her hair, a mess of gentle waves, is gathered up into a high ponytail as she faces away from me. Smoke wafts around her from the cigarette between her fingers. She’s deep in thought, unaware of my presence. I can’t help but smirk. You’ve made this too easy for me, my Little Finch , I think. But how will you be able to handle a direct confrontation? Especially after that night.
I want to see the rage in her face, breathe it in.
I turn the knob and push open the door. She startles, swiveling around and dropping her cigarette. Quickly, she smashes it under her shoe and then turns to me with a contemptuous expression. Her fury is striking in its beauty.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asks, her voice cold and dangerous.
I raise my palms in appeasement. “I just want to talk,” I say, my tone tinged with mockery.
“Liar!” She stands at the foot of the steps and grabs the knife from the sheath clipped to her belt, brandishing it stiffly. “I know what you did, and I won’t let you get away with it!”
My lips curl into a smirk, noting her upgrade of a weapon. “Oh? And what exactly do you think I’ve done?” I say, crossing my arms as I lean against the doorframe.
She takes a step forward, her eyes blazing. “You know damn well what you did!” She swallows and points the blade at me. “You killed her! And I’m gonna make you pay for it!”
“Did my gift not meet your expectations?” I chuckle, unmoved by her threat. I’m more interested in seeing how this all will proceed. In how far she’ll go. “How exactly do you plan on making me pay?”
“ The power to take away life, to bring justice in our own way ,” she says, parroting my brother’s words. “You took Jen’s life, but I will make sure that justice is served.” She takes another step closer, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “I will avenge her no matter what it takes … even if it kills me.”
She readies her stance and prepares to lunge at me. I can still see the lingering fear in her eyes. And as much as I enjoy it, I know I have to help stamp it out. It’s also the very thing that will prevent her from actually ending me.
And anyone else, for that matter.
“You really think you can take me down?” I snort derisively, retrieving my knife in a blink. “Let’s find out, shall we?” With a wild grin, I launch at her.
I don’t think she expected me to make the first move. She stumbles back and tries to regain her footing. With training and time, she can overcome her sloppiness. She leaps at me, but I dodge her and grab a hold of her hair. I yank it, laughing as she cries out in pain. She swings at me with her free hand, but I block it and push her back.
“Bastard!” she bites out, fury clouding her judgment.
She grits her teeth and lashes out once more, this time with the knife. With a vengeance-filled scream, she jumps at me. I step out of the way, the knife grazing my arm as I grab her wrist. I squeeze it tightly, making her wince, the blade falling from her grasp. Taking advantage of this, I spin her around and push her to the ground, pinning her there.
“Looks like I won this round,” I say, pressing my knife against her throat. She glares at me as I continue. “This is only the beginning. Are you ready to learn more?”
Her rebellion is clear in her silence as she refuses to respond. Standing up, I offer her my hand, only to be met with a scowl as if my grasp is poisonous. After a few moments, she hesitantly accepts my offer for help.
But my Little Finch thinks she’s clever, scooping up her knife the moment she rises. The blade is almost upon me when I crack my neck and let out a loud sigh.
“I offer to help you, and this is how you repay me? How disappointing.” I tsk, and she falters, stopping short of plunging the blade into my shoulder. “If I were you, Little Finch, I’d run .”
A whirlwind of emotions plays across her face as she processes my words, her knuckles white from gripping the handle of her weapon. Almost as if she’s considering attacking me again. But in the end, she takes off in the opposite direction, toward the woods of the property. I watch her go, a smile tugging at my lips until she vanishes.
“Let the game begin,” I say, sheathing my knife.
The thrill of the hunt invigorates me as I begin the pursuit, determined to catch my little birdy before she can escape. Only minutes ago, she had been so self-assured. But now, she runs as if her life depends on it.
And maybe it does—at least her old life.
I narrow my eyes in concentration, searching for signs of my quarry. The sun is dipping below the horizon, and I need to move quickly—but I can’t resist playing with my food. Once I catch sight of her, I follow close behind, making sure that she notices my presence every time. I want her to understand that this is a game. A game in which I’m the hunter, she the prey.
And I’m always one step ahead .
Gwen runs faster and faster, desperate to get away. But no matter how hard she tries, I will never cease the chase. Trees rush by in a blur of green and brown as I pursue her, twigs snapping underneath my boots. Every time she thinks she’s avoided my grasp, I surprise her, appearing out of nowhere and making it clear that I’m still here and won’t give up so easily.
The chase carries on until she trips over the roots of an old tree. She gasps for breath as I close in on her, seizing her and trapping her against the wide trunk with my body. Her heart beats wildly, her fear mixed with excitement palpable. She struggles as I lean close to her.
“You should have known you could never escape from me,” I murmur, nuzzling into the crook of her neck through the mask. “This is only the beginning.”
She shivers, goosebumps erupting on her skin as I brush the loose strands of hair away from her face. She stares at me apprehensively, her eyes wide with anger and fear. But beneath the fear, there is a smoldering ember of excitement, one that is impossible to ignore or deny. I press my body against hers, savoring the moment as her fear slowly dissipates and transforms into an unspoken desire. She closes her eyes and leans into me.
But suddenly, as if a taut cord had snapped, her eyes fly open. “Get away from me!” she screams, wrenching her arm free and raising the knife above her head. In one swift motion, I snatch her wrist and slam it against the trunk. She cries out in both pain and frustration. “I swear, if I have to, I’ll?— ”
“Kill me?” I laugh, prying the blade from her grasp. “I’m not sure if you have what it takes.”
“Fuck you!” she spits, watching as I toss the weapon somewhere into the nearby brush.
“Or maybe you do have it in you,” I say, tracing a finger along her jawline and across her plush lips. “You almost stabbed someone to death, didn’t you?” She emphatically shakes her head. “But you didn’t have time to finish it.”
Heat radiates off her skin like an inferno as she stares daggers at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denies.
But I do. This is Gwen’s dark secret, one she wanted no one to discover. “Oh, but I think you do,” I say knowingly. “The police didn’t find out. You got away with it … thanks to your father.”
Her breathing quickens, her eyes darting around as if she’s worried someone will hear us. “You know nothing.”
“But I do,” I say, lifting her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Richard ‘Dick’ Nelson took his abuse too far one day, tried to molest you one too many times. So you took a knife, stabbed the shit out of him, and your daddy took the fall, exposing him to the world as the Lakestone Reaper.”
“Shut the fuck up!” she shrieks, tears streaming down her cheeks as her eyes glaze over.
Looks like she’s having an episode again.
I reach out to comfort her, but she smacks my hand away. “You don’t know what it was like! No one understood or believed me! Even my father didn’t realize the extent of it until …” She trails off, taking in a shuddering breath.
I stroke her hair, and she doesn’t push me away this time. “It’s okay, Gwen. We can rectify this, finish the job.”
Her breath hitches and she blinks rapidly, as if she’s attempting to understand the meaning behind my words. She’s about to speak, but I silence her, shoving three of my fingers into her mouth. “Suck them like a good girl.”
She gags but obeys, wrapping her lips around them. Her head bobs back and forth, saliva dripping down her chin. I feel myself getting hard as I imagine her sucking my cock. Then I pull away, leaving her breathless and wanting more.
“Take off your jeans and panties,” I order, groaning into her ear as I wedge her legs apart with my knee.
“But Damon?—”
Already sick of her protests, I press her against the trunk, cupping her pussy through her clothes. “Do it. Now .”
She whimpers, biting her lip as I give her space to do as she’s told. Once she shimmies out of her jeans and slips off her panties, I grab her wrist, preventing her from tossing it into the pile at her feet. She watches me as I snatch her panties—and stuff them into her mouth.
“Spread your legs,” I command.
She nods, parting her thighs. I slide two fingers inside of her drenched core, thrusting into her roughly. She moans around the makeshift gag, throwing her head back, her pussy clenching around my gloved digits. Heat courses through me as I snake my other hand under her top, groping her breast through her bra. I then yank up her shirt and pull down the cups, letting her tits spill out.
“You like this, don’t you?” I mock, squeezing one of her nipples before twisting it harshly. “You like getting fucked by a serial killer in the same place your father buried all those bodies?” Gwen groans and clenches—actually clencheshard around my fingers, the sick bitch.
I force another finger inside of her, opening her up, and making her squirm at the intrusion. Then I suddenly withdraw and spin her around, unzipping my pants. “Fuck,” I mumble, placing a palm on her lower back, making her arch. “Your ass is perfect.” I slap it, watching it bounce.
I rub against her wetness until the head of my cock is glistening with her juices. She leans into it, wiggling her ass. Greedy Little Finch. I slap my cock against her core, making her whine. So fucking close to slipping inside.
And I do, sliding into her dripping heat. Inch by inch until I’m buried inside. She pulses around me as I mount her to the hilt and begin fucking her. I reach around, groping her breasts, squeezing them hard. I pull her toward me with each thrust, fucking her deep. She digs her nails into the bark, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes as I drive into her.
“Faster,” she moans around the gag. “Please.”
I moan, pumping into her faster. Seeing her broken and bent to my will like this—fuck, I will not last much longer.
“More,” she whines. “Give me more! ”
I wrap my hand around her neck, pulling her closer. “Is this what you want?” I growl in her ear, making her whimper as I increase the pressure.
She nods as best she can. “Yes,” she chokes out, losing oxygen by the second. Her legs tremble as I pound her from behind, my grasp on her throat tightening. She pushes her hips back, meeting each thrust.
I pick up my pace, angling at just the right spot. “Your cunt’s so tight for me,” I grunt, fucking her depths as I deprive her of air. “No one can fuck you as good as I do. Because no one knows you as well as I do. Right, my Little Finch?” I rip her panties from her mouth and relax my grip before she passes out.
“Yes!” she cries. “I love it! Fuck me harder, Damon!”
I twine my finger in her hair and pull her closer. “Beg for it.”
“Please,” she keens, clawing the bark. “Fuck me! Make me come with your big, thick cock!”
Pleasure rushes through me at her sweet, pathetic groveling. I plunge myself deeper inside of her, moaning, my body trembling as I near the edge. I grunt, pulling out of her, my cock throbbing in my hand. Her pussy pulses, clenching over and over on nothing as she lets out a long string of curses.
“Get down,” I demand.
She turns, dropping to her knees. She grasps me, stroking my shaft, staring up at me through those long dark eyelashes. “Come for me,” she pleads, staring up at me hungrily. “Fill up my mouth.” She licks her lips and draws only the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and dipping it into the slit.
I can’t stop myself; I shove my cock fully into her mouth, gagging her as I paint her throat with my cum. She takes it like a champ, milking me so much that it spills from the corner of her mouth and drips down her chin and on to her breasts. Her eyes water, her mascara streaking down her face. I withdraw, seeing some cum still on her tongue.
“Swallow,” I growl, squeezing her cheeks.
She obeys, swallowing every drop. She then runs her fingers across her chin, catching the remnants. Maintaining eye contact, she sticks cum-coated digits into her mouth, sucking them and licking off the rest.
I snatch her throat. “The next time I fuck you, my cum will be gushing from your tight little pussy.”
I laugh, leaving her there practically naked to clean herself up.