Chapter 3 #2
The temperature in the room drops. Everyone goes still.
"Mikhail," Cassius says calmly. "Did you lose a finger last year?"
The man nods nervously.
"Would you like to lose another?"
"No, Mr. Wolfe."
"Then perhaps you should reconsider implying that I've gone soft." His fingers trail higher on my thigh, finding the edge of my underwear. "The Covenant will be handled. Tonight, in fact. You're all welcome to watch."
The meeting continues, but I barely hear it.
Cassius's fingers are teasing me under the table, keeping me on edge while he discusses murder and mayhem like it's nothing.
By the time the meeting ends, I'm desperately wet and shaking with need.
"Tonight," he says as we leave, "you'll see what I really am."
Hell is different when we return that evening. There's an energy in the air, anticipation mixed with fear.
Word has spread that something significant is happening.
Cassius leads me to his usual spot, but this time there's a cushion on the floor beside his chair.
The implication is clear—I'm to kneel at his feet while he holds court.
"You can still leave," he says quietly. "What you're about to see... there's no coming back from it."
"I don't want to come back."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Then kneel."
I take my position and immediately feel the weight of eyes on me.
Everyone in Hell knows who I am now—Cassius Wolfe's new toy.
Some look at me with envy, others with pity.
The Covenant members are brought in—three men who thought they could encroach on Cassius's territory.
They're forced to their knees in the center of the room.
What happens next is brutal.
Cassius doesn't dirty his hands—he has people for that—but he orchestrates their destruction casually, as casually as selecting which channel you want to watch on the TV.
One man loses three fingers.
Another is branded with Cassius's wolf sigil.
The third...the third dies.
Quickly, cleanly, a bullet between the eyes from Lionel's gun.
Through it all, Cassius's hand stays in my hair, petting me absently like I'm a cat.
The violence should horrify me.
Instead, I'm aroused by his power, by the fear he commands, by the absolute control he wields.
"Anyone else?" he asks the room. "Anyone else think I've gone soft?"
Silence.
"Good. Clean this up."
The bodies are removed, the blood mopped away, and Hell returns to its usual debauchery.
But the message has been sent—Cassius Wolfe is not to be challenged.
A woman approaches, beautiful and dangerous looking.
She kneels beside me, addresses Cassius. "Sir, I could serve you better than this new pet. Let me show you."
Jealousy, hot and unexpected, flares in my chest.
Cassius must feel me tense because his hand tightens in my hair.
"Did I ask for your service?"
"No, Sir, but?—"
"Then you've just volunteered for the entertainment. Lionel, she's yours for the night."
The woman pales as Lionel approaches.
She's dragged away, and I realize what I've just witnessed—my jealousy signed her degradation warrant.
"You're learning," Cassius murmurs. "Learning what it means to be mine."
The words settle into my bones like a brand.
Around us, Hell continues its dark symphony—screams and moans, begging and breaking.
But all I can focus on is his hand in my hair, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the power radiating from him like heat from a forge.
I've been here less than forty-eight hours, but I already can't imagine being anywhere else.
Can't imagine belonging to anyone else.
He keeps me at his feet for another hour, making everyone see who I belong to.
Men who could buy and sell entire city blocks lower their eyes when they approach.
Women who were vying for his attention now look at me with a mixture of envy and fear.
I am his, and in this world, that means something.
It means everything.
When he finally stands, pulling me up with him, there's something different in his eyes.
Darker. More intense.
The controlled businessman who orchestrated all of that chaos is suddenly gone.
In his place is something rawer, more primal.
The crowd parts as he leads me through Hell, and I realize they've seen this transformation before.
They know what it means.
In his private room, he's different.
Rougher. More possessive.
He fucks me against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hand around my throat.
"You liked it," he growls. "Watching me destroy them. It made you wet."
"Yes," I gasp.
"You're as twisted as I am."
"Yes."
He carries me to the bed but doesn't pull out, just continues fucking me with deep, brutal strokes.
"What are you afraid of losing?" I ask suddenly, remembering his tension during the meeting.
He stills. "What?"
"Earlier. When they mentioned the Covenant. You were afraid of something."
His hand tightens on my throat, not quite cutting off my air, but close. "I'm not afraid of anything."
But there's something in his eyes…a flash of vulnerability quickly hidden.
He pulls out, flips me onto my stomach, and enters me again from behind, effectively ending the conversation.
But I file it away.
Cassius Wolfe, who commands Hell itself, is afraid of something.
Or someone.
As he fucks me into oblivion, as I come apart under his hands again and again, I wonder what could possibly scare a monster.
I don't know that the answer is me.
That the truth of what he's done, what we are to each other, is the one thing that could destroy us both.
But I will.
Soon enough, I will.
For now, though, I'm lost in him, in the darkness we create together, in the beautiful devastation of being owned by Cassius Wolfe.
Tomorrow is my last night here.
And I already know I can't walk away.