Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
KANE
When I arrive home that night, I’m on cloud nine, buzzing after spending hours teaching Jessica to race my car.
She was amazing, and I couldn’t quite contain how proud I was as she flew past the finish line with the wind in her hair from the open window and a bright smile that could light up the fucking world.
All I could think was, This girl is mine.
And she is. I’m the only one who gets to kiss and fuck her, and I’m not letting her go.
After shutting the front door, I message Cash, who replies with a selfie of him and a group of scantily dressed women at a bar. Maverick is in the background, checking his phone while a brunette in a bodycon dress and platform stilettos clings to his side.
They try to convince me to join them, but I just chuckle as I head toward the staircase. I’ve barely reached the first step when I suddenly become aware of laughter and classical music drifting from the dining hall. Backtracking, I crane my neck to look down the hallway.
Unease prickles my neck. I turn to head upstairs, but as soon as I set foot on the first step our butler speaks up behind me.
“Mr. Ravencourt requests your presence in the hall, sir.”
My eyes sink shut. It’s all I can do not to bite out a rude remark as he heads back the way he came, his back straighter than a fence post.
What the hell does he want now?
Grinding my teeth, I make my way to the dining hall, ignoring the warning bells ringing in the back of my mind.
My father’s attention is never a good thing.
“There you are, Kane,” the man in question says as I enter the grand room, and my stomach twists as I take in my father at the head of the table.
The senator and his wife are also here, watching my approach as if I’m the evening’s entertainment.
Usually I’m the wolf when I go places, but here, among these people, I’m prey.
“Come join us,” Father says as the butler shuts the large double doors behind me with a final nod.
“How nice of you to show up this evening.” The senator swirls his expensive whiskey while assessing me with a dark gaze that prickles my skin. What are they doing here? Father said the thirtieth. That’s two weeks away. They’re not supposed to be here tonight.
As if he can read my thoughts, my father says, “The senator and his wife were in town on business.”
One of the waiters, the same one Cash has been screwing for weeks, pulls out the chair beside Beverly and pours me a shot of whiskey.
She’s naked except for a white foxtail butt plug, glittery stripper heels, and a dog collar.
Eyes downcast, as is customary around my father, she steps away as I reluctantly take a seat while they all watch me like hawks.
“Drink up,” Father says with an aimed look at my tumbler, and I know before I even lift it to my lips that it’s been spiked. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I smell it first, the acrid taste burning my nose as Beverly puts her hand on my thigh beneath the table. Her sharp nails trail higher, and I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to bash her brains in.
Father and the senator wait for me to drink, and when I do, they grin like two mob bosses who’ve caught their prey.
The bitter liquor burns on its way down my throat, and I fight a wince as I set the tumbler back down.
I need to get out of here before the drug kicks in.
Fuck knows what’ll happen to me if I don’t.
“Where have you been tonight?” Father asks, snipping a cigar with his trimmer, his attention fixed on the task. I swallow hard, knowing he isn’t asking out of curiosity.
He knows.
“You had me followed?”
His dark eyes lock on mine, and he draws the cigar beneath his nose slowly, deliberately. “Tell me, son, should I be concerned about this latest development?”
He means Jessica.
When the predatory woman beside me trails her hand dangerously close to my crotch, I stiffen and glance nervously at the senator, who looks smug as hell while puffing on his cigar. “No,” I say. “She’s no one.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” Father lights his cigar, then gestures for the waitress to come over, and she hurries to his side. “Be a good girl and dance for us, sweetheart.”
As her hips start to sway, my father smacks her ass when she spins to face the senator.
Bile rises in my throat. Beside me, the senator’s wife leans in to suck on my lobe while she grips me through my pants. “I’ve been thinking about this big cock,” she whispers as I sit stock-still. “The nasty things you can do with it.”
Shoving her hand away, I stand up and excuse myself.
Father barely pays me any attention when I tell him I need to take a piss. Instead, he winds the foxtail around his hand and orders the waitress to bend over and show her cunt.
Sick bastard.
Desperate to escape, I hurry out of the room, not daring to breathe until the classical music fades behind me. I need to get out of his house, but my vision swims before I make it down the next hallway. My heart kicks like I’m seconds away from a heart attack as I crash into the wall.
Briefly squeezing my eyes shut to clear my vision, I shuffle down the hall, using the wall for support. Where the fuck am I? I look around, but my head swims.
“There you are,” a feminine voice says, sliding red nails up my arm—nails as red as the runner. “You shouldn’t be out here in your state.”
Before I know it, we’re in a different room with deep green curtains framing the large windows that overlook the cliffs. I have no memory of how I got here.
Eager hands fumble with my belt before I’m shoved onto the four-poster bed beside the bookshelves, but I’m mostly aware of the rustling clink of her diamond bracelet as she finally gets my belt undone.
“Get off me.” My words come out slurred. I shake my head to clear the haze, but the world still spins like a carousel. I try to shift her off me, but my limbs won’t move. Heavy, like I’m in a dream. Heavy and useless.
Somehow I find myself vertical, gazing up at the ceiling—at the chandelier. Where am I? Fuck, what’s happening?
I try to lift my head, but the moment I do the world tilts on its axis. Something is really fucking wrong. As I shift onto my side, a feminine voice curses. A hand cracks against my cheek, sharp and stinging, before I’m forced onto my back again.
“Lie down, baby.” The voice fades in and out, warped. Rough fingers pry my mouth open, and she orders me to swallow the bitter pill pressed onto my tongue.
“That’ll make you hard for me.”
“I don’t feel well,” I slur, trying to sit up again, but she shoves me back down. I lash out blindly, limbs flailing, and she stumbles, hitting the floor as I stagger toward the door.
With my pants tangled around my ankles, I lose my footing and slam into the bookshelf. Hardbacks and picture frames crash to the floor.
“Baby, where do you think you’re going?” The voice distorts like something out of a horror movie, sickly sweet one second, sinister the next.
“Jessica?” I ask as I’m guided back toward the bed. How did she get here?
“It’s me, baby. You need to lie down.”
The voice is wrong. Before I can say it, the room tilts again and I hit the mattress hard.
A weight straddles me. Strokes my dick. I try to move, but firm hands pin me down. “I’ll make you feel good. Better than that slut can,” the voice croons as heat sheaths me.
I try to lift my arms. They won’t respond. When I finally manage to raise one, it drops heavily against my chest, useless, like it doesn’t belong to me at all.
Whiny moans fill the room. I fight my body desperately, but my mind can’t make sense of what’s happening.
Through my spinning, blurred vision, large breasts bounce in time with the warped moans.
Sharp nails rake down my chest, the pain a distant sting, something I register only vaguely, like everything else slipping beyond my grasp.
When darkness finally pulls me under, I welcome it.
Anesthesia knocks you out. You close your eyes, and when you wake up, you have no sense of time having passed. You were just…gone. It’s how I feel now as I slowly come to, wincing because my head throbs like a motherfucker.
“Jesus fuck,” I mutter, clutching my tender head as I push up onto my elbow. The moment I look around, I scramble upright, my legs tangled in the white sheets.
What the fuck?? Whose bed is this?
Horror crashes through me as vague memories resurface. Memories of breasts. Breathy moans. Nails clawing my chest.
I look down at the fresh scratch marks. A packet of Viagra lies on the coffee table along with a glass of water, a folded note, and two Advils.
I reach for the note, my hands trembling with rising anger.
Always such a good puppy.
A hot flash of fury strikes me, and I rip it into countless little pieces, my heart roaring in my ears almost as loudly as my head pounds.
I swear, one of these days I’m going to kill the bitch and that pathetic fucking husband of hers, too.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
My head jerks up at the sound of Beverly’s voice. She leans against the doorframe, dressed in a white silk robe that’s slipped off one shoulder, raking her eyes down my body.
“Slept well?” she asks, fighting a smile.
I can feel the tendon in my neck pulse as she pushes off the doorframe and walks closer. When she reaches the bed, she undoes the silk belt and lets her robe fall open. I don’t look at her body. Instead, my furious gaze burns into her face as she lets the robe fall to the floor in a sea of silk.
“I love that icy look in your eyes,” she says, crawling onto the bed. “You always fuck so good when you fantasize about killing me.”
On all fours, she flicks her gaze between my eyes and my mouth before leaning in to kiss me. She’s deluded if she thinks I’ll play her game.
I shove her onto her back and wrap my hands around her throat.
She gasps, nipples taut against her fake tits as her face turns red and blotchy.
She kicks and claws at my wrists, fighting me.
The pain barely registers through the blinding fury.
How fucking dare she lay a finger on me?
The only thing stopping me from killing her is the fallout. The consequences for the people I love.
I release her and stagger out of bed, breathing hard as I search for my discarded clothes. Where the hell are they?
Dark, shrill laughter fills the room as I straighten, my creased shirt dragged from beneath the bed. She props herself up on her elbows, wearing a knowing, cruel little smile that sets me on edge.
She opens her legs to reveal her shaven pink cunt. “Come back to bed.”
I scoff. “Get dressed before I kill you.”
“Such a tease.”
“I’m fucking serious.”
Her smile grows meaner. “So am I. Come fuck me.”
Disgusted, I find my pants in the corner and slide them on, not bothering with the zipper. I just need to get out of here. Now.
“Not so fast,” she says as I head for the door. Something in her tone, something unhinged, makes me hesitate with my hand on the handle.
Beverly slides out of bed and smirks at me over her shoulder as she picks up an ornament from the wooden dresser. A Greek goddess carved from stone.
“Heavy,” she says, inspecting it with a scheming look that twists my insides. She looks at me again, and something ugly enters her cold gaze. Something vindictive. “I told you to stay, Ravencourt. You don’t get it yet, do you? When I tell you to do something, you do it.”
I sneer at her, but it only deepens her twisted little smile.
Rounding the bed, she tests the ornament’s weight in her hands. “I like you, Kane. I like you a lot.” She stops in front of me and trails her nails over one of the cuts, making me grit my teeth against the sharp sting. “That makes you my puppy.”
“You’re sick.”
“We have to be, if we want to survive in this world. You know that better than anyone.”
I grind my teeth and stay silent, imagining a thousand ways to kill her, knowing I can’t act on any of them. Not with my father involved. Not with the power her husband holds.
“Here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to swallow your pride and forget the na?ve loyalty you have to the Falls girl. Then you’re going to fuck me, Kane, like a good little puppy.”
My jaw clenches. “No.”
“No?” She tilts her head, eyes wide and innocent. “Baby, I’ve got your cum inside me. What would your girlfriend say if she knew you filled me up last night?”
I grunt when she digs her long nail into one of my cuts.
“Again, and again, and again.”
She laughs under her breath, fingers sliding to my waistband before slipping inside my trousers. I’m not wearing boxers, and she strokes my soft cock. “You think she’d care if you were drugged? Think she’d believe you?”
“Shut up,” I grit out, teeth clenched. I hate it when she talks about Jessica. She doesn’t get to use her. Doesn’t get to drag her into this filth, into whatever game she thinks she’s playing.
“Maybe she would,” she says lightly, “but I doubt she’d care much after she sees the recording of us.”
Red floods my vision. I shove her back, but she’s faster, darting in front of me before I can reach the door.
“I’ll hurt myself.”
I pull up short. “Excuse me.”
“You heard me. Take me, or I’ll hurt myself. Good luck getting out of it when I tell my husband how you beat and raped me. Who do you think he’ll believe? Ravencourt’s volatile son or his bleeding wife with dried cum on her thighs?”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches at the hinges as I flick my eyes between hers, trying to get a handle on myself before I flip and do something with deadly consequences.
No one would believe me. Beverly is right.
My father cares more about power than his own flesh and blood. He needs one male heir. He’s got two.
A flash of victory sparks across her face. She reaches for me again, about to slip her hand into my pants, but I step out of reach. I can’t let this woman touch me. Not again.
Now it’s her turn to work her jaw. She looks down at the weighty ornament in her hand and says, “Fine, have it your way.”
And then she drives it into her temple.