31. To own is to… Ache
Chapter thirty-one
To own is to… Ache
W arrick
The woman dances in front of me, grinding and shaking her ass inches from my cock, and it might as well be severed. There’s nothing.
Fucking nothing.
She’s beautiful, her dark hair and bright blue eyes alluring, but I'm thinking in terms of blonde hair, doe eyes, and freckles. Her language isn’t even on my radar as I take another heavy swig of my drink, ignoring her the way you would fly at a barbeque. They’re annoying, sure, but swatting at it looks stupid.
Stuart laughs at something another old head says at the bar, content and unaware of what I’ve done, what I’ve set in place. Her ass drops, grazing my flaccid cock as my eyes drift upward to the dark. One call—that’s all it would take to end this.
Is she touching him yet?
Is he listening to her soft whimpers?
Does she want him?
The woman’s ass firmly plants on my lap as she turns, winking at me in a way that’s meant to be sexy. Any other time, it would’ve been. I all but shove her off that part of me I’ve long buried, the part that’s been edging the surface the past few weeks as it nudges, coaxing me.
Make the call.
Hit the fucking button.
Everyone here dies.
Including me, including her.
What they don’t know is beyond the string lights, the pounding music, are two drones loaded with weapons strong enough to topple a freight vessel, and below those are six snipers loaded into smaller boats.
One for every potential angle, should it come to that.
One time, that’s all. This time, then I take her home and—
The faint splash hits me first before the com buzzes in my ear.
“Target is overboard, west side from upper deck, yet to surface. Holding.”
The woman is still swaying in front of me as I bolt from my seat, shoving her forward. Her face smashes against the table with a crunch. The sense of fear, of fucking dread, is choking. Stuart yells after me, but I barely hear it as I topple everyone in my path. The tepid night air whistles past my ears as I hit the upper deck, diving into the dark water below. It’s frigid compared to the warm, humid air around us. My breath is knocked out of me the moment I break the surface.
Thankfully, she’s not a hard target to find, even in the dark. The relief is only second to the concern, the adrenaline. She’s gasping and thrashing in the water like a wounded animal. Even with her panic, she’s treading water fine. Her agonized sobbing bludgeons my chest as I grab her, pressing her against my side. “Shhh, baby, I got you. You’re okay.”
I don’t know if I say it more to her or myself, my heart battering my ribcage as adrenaline pumps through my limbs, making my already deranged heart work overtime. Her nails score my neck, clawing and grappling. I can’t tell if she’s trying to climb on top of me or shove me away as I struggle to keep her above the water. My own face dips and bobs below as she struggles .
I suck in another breath as a wave slaps my face, the saltwater burning my eyes. I’ve always hated swimming. “Get her!” She croaks, sputtering water against my cheek as I swim toward the boat, my rings clanking loudly against the latter.
“I got you. It’s okay.”
“No!” She wails, and fuck, she’s pulling against me, fighting her way back to the water. My stomach drops, my heart clenching as I tighten my hold, working our way upward.
“Hush now.”
She doesn’t, her panic reaching heights I never thought possible. Wherever my little pet is right now, I can’t reach her. I feel her absence, the dimming of her light viscerally.
This is my fault.
The realization hits me like a round to the chest as I reach the railing of the yacht, tossing her over the side to safety before pulling myself up. Her long blonde hair plasters to her face as she braces herself on the floor, like she’s trying to adhere herself there. My knees slam beside her as I check her over, assuring myself she’s okay. She doesn’t react, not even a flinch, making my gut twist unbearably as I bend, kissing her head. I force her through my lungs, savoring that moment, because once I end it, everything changes.
My eyes are hesitant to leave her as I pull away, jerking the handgun from the waistband of my soaked suit. Rage is there, burning, seething, razing the way, but there’s also something more . Something deeper, refined. I let it tether me as I turn toward the man, my only hope to end this, years of preparing, of waiting…
“Hey man, it was an accident!” He yells, backpedaling, but I reach him first, my fist gripping his shirt as rain blows down on me. It’s not his fighting or her fear that solidifies possibly one of the dumbest decisions of my life.
Aside from buying her.
Aside from insisting we do that run.
Aside from trusting Tyet when they said it would be clear.
My mind is made up the moment I see the scratches on the side of his face, the smeared mauve lipstick. Her lipstick .
He makes a bizarre yowling sound as I shove my gun into his back, the animalistic sound cutting off as I fire.
She was hurt.
Because of me .
Stuart grips my jacket, disrupting my aim on the man’s face before shoving me toward her. It doesn’t take too much to make me comply, because I need her the way I’ve needed her since this began. Wholly. I fucking need her because she forced upon me every ounce of her love and compassion, and now, I can’t breathe without it. I can’t breathe without her .
“You have two minutes,” I yell over my shoulder, scooping my inconsolable pet into my arms, the taste of my blood trickling into my mouth.
“Until what?” He calls back.
I don’t know what he sees in me when I turn around, but I’ve seen the look on his face before, years after my father died when I was at my worst, long before I got a handle on my… cruel side. I glance up, his eyes following the path of mine into the darkness before his widen. “Until I kill everyone here.” With that, I hear a splash, followed by another, the sound of people taking me seriously as they dive into the dark water below.
He shakes his head, lifting his watch to his mouth. “Get the jumpers. Nobody makes it to shore. Someone get this guy on a fucking boat, one with a medic.”
Even those who weren’t lucky enough to hear my declaration are getting out of my way, but it doesn’t matter as I cock my gun, shooting anyone within my line of sight. My little pet hyperventilates, her face buried in my neck, her nails pricking my flesh.
This pollution, the twist inside me, is an itch , one I could feel down to my bones. Some of us are born angry, born with hate already planted in our hearts. Humanity won the day I learned to swallow that anger, to keep it hidden, tucked away. When we reach the bottom deck, I lower her shaking form into a waiting boat, my teeth gritting as I hand her off to one of my men. As soon as my water-logged shoes hit the smaller boat, I reclaim her, holding her like a lifeline as we pull away from the vessel. I don’t look back, caging her against me so hard for a moment, I worry if she can breathe. It takes a monumental effect to loosen my grip, only for her to cling to me tighter. The sight of my second zooming past me, out deeper into the ocean, is all the confirmation I need. The screams cut off mere seconds after I signal the drone, our smaller vessel rocking from the force of the blast.