19. Killian
Wrath is something I indulge in only now and then. I don’t let it consume me in my day-to-day life.
But right now, my instincts are telling me to give the fury that travels through my veins the freedom it wants, and it’s demanding blood. Her blood.
Since Maricela left me, I’ve let every emotion under the sun consume me. Guilt, self-loathing, anger, agitation, agony, mortification, numbness, dread, and even fear.
But I didn’t let the rage take what it wanted. I maintained control. Now, all I see is his name. Maverick-fucking-Hope. That’s how she saved his name on her phone. Nothing special, like he has no responsibility for her disappearance.
As if he didn’t know all this time where she was and under what name she worked with him, for him.
I recall the day I went to him. I wasn’t in a good place. Upon my return from Italy, I discovered she had disappeared.
Kai and Liam were the ones who stopped me from murdering him. Maverick assured me he didn’t know anything, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“I’m glad she left your family. She’s much better than that. I hope she lives a good life.”
I had him followed after that. For two years, I received reports about the places he visited. I even knew who and how he fucked. As a result of my belief that I possessed a complete understanding of the man, he refrained from troubling the alliance with his investigations.
I was wrong. Now I realize I was so fucking mistaken. In his eyes, he had won. He knew where she was all that time. He was her fucking boss.
He’ll pay for his actions and his lies. I can wipe him off the face of the earth, but he’s not stupid. Maverick Hope left footprints with names—valuable names. I was able to find some traces, but I can’t guarantee that once he disappears from the face of the earth, bombs won’t detonate.
Maverick is not my primary concern at this moment, though. The target of my wrath is none other than my wild, ghostly little girl.
Granted, there is nothing wild about her these days. She looks dim as if the light of her essence has been sucked out by a black hole—something I need to change.
No one is in the office right now, and even though I like to make her scream at the top of her lungs, begging me to stop or go on when everyone outside knows what I’m doing to her, this time, it’s different.
I thought I punished her that night when she went down on me.I didn’t feel sorry for her. She must have thought I let my anger get the better of me. If so, that was a mistake on her part.
I did something I shouldn’t have done then: I hurt her.
I used her body. Her pleasure didn’t cross my mind. Maricela may like rough sex, but her mouth is too small to swallow me without it being a challenge for her.
I always prepared her for my brand of violence, making sure she was wet and ready for me, and she enjoyed it.
That night, however, her pleasure was of no concern to me. I wanted to punish her. I wanted her to suffer.
The pain in her eyes was evident when I disappeared into the bathroom, and even when I returned, I continued our games as if I had done nothing.
Despite all that, I was aware of my actions. I stopped myself from hurting her like I really wanted to. Now I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it because all I see now is red.
Maricela doesn’t look at me. She heard what I told her to do, but she refuses to obey, or better yet, I believe she can’t move. My little girl always knew when the true evil in me wanted out, and it seems that hasn’t changed.
I move toward her, clutching at her soft, lush hair. Maricela never liked the color or the thickness of her hair. She always said her curls were too big, too heavy, and messy for anyone to call them soft or lush.But the thing she most loathed was the unique color of her hair.
A rare color ranging from chocolate brown to dirty red, undefined like the woman herself.
She’s like a rare coral that’s faded away from the brutality of life. I even heard her telling Amado that he’s lucky he didn’t inherit her hair color but Serena’s instead. Let’s hope that’s the only thing he inherited from the bitch.
“I—”
she begins, trying not to gasp, her back to me. Her body is so small, so fragile. So fucking breakable.
She is tiny, this woman, yet so many times in the past, she appeared bigger than she really is.
Her personality, feistiness, and need for strength made her appear so big to me. Now, however, I can see how small and breakable she really is.
Like a good and disciplined lamb, she’s ready for slaughter. She stands there, frozen in place, looking at the cross, a cross that has been standing there for weeks, untouched.
I haven’t used it yet. I’ve left it for a special occasion. Well, the occasion has arrived.
Today, she wears black pants and a simple gray shirt. I tried to make her dress according to what was expected of her, but it didn’t last a day. She tore off her skirt and asked Raven to bring her pants.
“Face me, hands up.”
She turns to me without fear in her eyes. Maricela knows she screwed up, and she’s ready to pay for it. I take off her shirt without words. Her breasts bounce inside the bra, making my cock instantly come alive. He’ll have to hold back.
Today, she’s going to break. Something has to give. I cling to her body, holding her hands up, making her take a step backward with every step I take until her back is against the cross.
The technician who took care of it did a good job. It doesn’t move from its position under our weight. Maricela lets a small sound escape her lips, part moan, part yelp.
From her position, she can look out the floor-to-ceiling window. I chose this spot on purpose. This way, she’ll feel like she’s hanging by a thread in the air and at my mercy.
I tie her hands with the leather straps hanging from the cross without asking if I’m hurting her. A huge part of me wants to hurt her, to cause her the same pain that she inflicted on me, for all the emotions that have stirred in me for four damn years and for the days that she’s been here.
Maricela does not respond in any way to me manhandling her. She just stands there as if numb, so fucking numb. I kiss and scrape my teeth down her neck, making her shiver. Her body is with me, but her soul and fire are muted. It’s time to bring her back.
“How long has it been since I started to play with you?”
I know the answer, and it brings a smile to my lips. For a total of seventeen days, I’ve abused her cunt, her body. She begged for it as if needing the pain. Today, she will come, but only under my conditions.
I scrape her nipple through the fabric of her thin bra. It isn’t a bralette like she used to wear in college, and it hides nothing.
“I asked you a fucking question, little girl. Answer it.”
“I–I’m not sure,” she stammers as if afraid to disappoint me. “Time has gotten mixed up.”
“I wonder why, Little Girl. Maybe it’s because you let it. Maybe it’s because you live in some fucking limbo of denial, of self-neglect. Terrified of the truth of your past. Tell me, Little Girl, how does it feel to breathe without living?”
I touch the scar on her hand, the biggest scar left on her skin. A scar that tells a story. A story I was not part of. I loathe it. I detest the fact I wasn’t there to recreate the damn scar on whoever hurt her, whoever left his mark on her.
“I don’t—” she tries, oh, how she tries.
If something can be said about Maricela, it’s her resilience. Even now, tied up and broken, she tries.
With her power stripped from her, I suspect she doesn’t want to fight, but that resilience wars within her. More than that, I think she wants to become a broken being, but she can’t. It’s just not who she is, and I’m here to remind her of that.
“You don’t what? Aren’t you afraid of the truth, Maricela? Don’t you hold the past closed in a Pandora’s box while you live in its shadow? Tell me, what will make you give me the key to your box? What’s lurking there? You know, I’m already plagued with all the evil humanity has to offer.”
She looks at me then, with eyes full of life and color. I always relished the fact that I could see how the colors changed, collided, and created life in her orbs like no other could.
Now they are stormy. The green and blue are almost one, creating a hopeful mirage of life. She needs it. She needs to fucking let go.
“I didn’t answer him.” I almost forgot about the fucker. Al-fucking-most.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I fiddle with the buttons on her pants, letting them loose. She gasps just slightly, quietly, but I hear it. As clear as day, she needs this. She needs my wrath. So, I let it loose.
I let myself consume her, and I devour her with my lips and teeth. Each inch of her belly will soon be covered with the scrape of my teeth. Rebuking her, breaking her, just like she fucking did to me for four fucking years ago.
“He was just my boss. He never touched me. Raven told me you believed I slept with him and left with him,” she tries again.
“Justifications are beneath you. You always did what you wanted. Lived your life, spoke up. Fuck, the only reason you became mine was because you let it happen. And then...you left. You left like a coward, not only me but your sister too, and let’s not forget your little angel, your friends. Was it really me? Was it really the fucking video?”
She flinches, her entire body shivering from my words.
“Don’t.” She sounds small as if my words wound her.
Good. I want her to hurt. She hasn’t suffered enough.
“Don’t what, Maricela? Where have you been? Why did you become a ghost?” Her eyes shimmer with tears, but none come out. I pinch her nipple as hard as I can, making her scream. “Words. I need your fucking words.”
“I went to him, okay?” she screams.
“To whom?” I scream into her face, too, spit and all.
Nothing of this is pretty. This is ugly and primal. I’m a hunter in the wilds. Waiting. Fucking waiting.
“To Maverick. He wanted me to work for him, and I said yes. I wanted out of here. I changed my name. It was easy. So fucking easy.”
“Stop playing with fire, Little Girl.”
“Burn me.”
“I see what you’re doing, Maricela. You want me to fuck you, to hurt you.”
And I will, of course, I will. We both need it. The carnal desire we’ve been harboring for weeks now needs to be set loose.
She sees my intentions and screams. I smile. For the first time in weeks, my cheeks lift to the point of uncomfortable pain in the muscles I don’t use. I open the belt on my pants and whip it off, swinging it to her belly. She bucks and screams, but no tears come out.
“Was it easy to leave me? Tell me! Was it so easy to leave me behind?”
She nods, and I swing the belt again. This time to her legs, close to her pussy. She moves with the belt as if seeking its bite.
“Was it easy to leave Serena?” She nods again.
“Do you hate me that much?” Another nod. Another strike of the belt.
“Killian, I know that right now you’re angry. Your little toy is gone with another man. Your little girl, your little obsession. I know it all now. You had to break me because of some sick ploy of your father’s. Well, in the end, I will be the one breaking you. I never loved you. I was never yours, and I never will be. Please don’t harm my family to satisfy your need for revenge. I know that eventually, you’ll come for me, and I’m okay with that. But remember, I don’t love you. Your promise to me was false, as was mine. All the promises I gave you were meant to be broken. Were meant to break you. Never yours, Maricela.”
I recite the words one by one. Like the tattoos and scars on my skin, that letter is burned into my veins, rotting everything from the inside.
She closes her eyes, and the tears she refuses to shed spill onto her cheeks.
“What do you want?”
One after the other, I collect the tears with my thumb. Tasting them. Relishing in her pain.
“So, did you, or did you not fuck Maverick?”
She shakes her head.
“Speak!”
I demand, pulling her hair again. I always loved playing with her wild mane.
“I lied,” she whispers into the silent office, as if her words, her truth, are dangerous to her, to me. Fuck that.
“Why?”
She shakes her head no, time and time again, to the point I’m afraid she’ll break her neck. I stop her movement with my touch, letting her lean into me.
“So, you didn’t fuck him, not even once?”
She tries to shake her head again, to no avail.
“I didn’t fuck him. I didn’t fuck anybody. Happy?” she cries.
I smile even harder.
“Extremely so.”
I kiss her skin. It’s hot to the touch. Despite how cold she tries to appear, Maricela always runs hot.
“Now, let’s get to you calling people by their name. Mainly me.”
Her eyes fly open. They look round and big, the colors fighting for something I don’t understand.
“Maricela. You will speak. I can do this all day.”
“The kids...”
“Marlina can take care of the kids.”
I destroy her miserable attempt for an excuse. She will not hide. Not anymore.
I let my hands roam her body. Pinching, scratching, leaving marks. My fingers plunge into her hot cunt, searching for her clit. She hisses like a cat when I pinch it as hard as possible.
“You will speak, but no one said it would be all work and no game, Little Girl. I can make this easy for you. I can make you come if you speak up, or I can be harsh like we both know you love. Either way, I’ll enjoy it. So let’s start, shall we?”
I snap the belt in my hand, and her eyes roll back. Pleasure and fear are what we both do best.