Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
REMI
T he slow, deliberate thud of Domino’s boots on the metal steps echoed like the final seconds of a countdown timer.
Tick.
Casius stumbled in front of me, breath hitching with every uneven step, his body trembling under the pressure of Domino’s gun pressed to the back of his neck.
Tick.
He flinched every time the cold barrel nudged him forward, each tap a silent command—keep walking. We were bringing him down.
Down into the gallery.
Down into his grave.
His ragged breaths filled the stairwell, panicked and shallow, like he was trying to breathe before he ran out of time. But it wouldn’t matter. He had no time left.
He reached the last step, hesitating, his body locking up. His knees wobbled, his spine stiffening as though some pathetic instinct to fight, to flee, to beg was finally trying to take hold.
But Domino was faster.
The gun pressed harder against his skull. A sharp gasp left Casius’s lips, and I smirked as he shuddered.
“Keep moving.” Domino’s voice was calm.
Cassius obeyed.
The heavy steel door groaned as we stepped into the gallery, and the space swallowed us whole.
Casius staggered forward under the harsh glare of the spotlights, his breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps as he took in the empty white walls—the blank canvas waiting for his body to be displayed.
The gallery was a mausoleum of silence.
The girl from the opening was still at the forefront of my mind, hanging in the corner next to his bed, her pale limbs twisted, her dress a ruined thing of dried blood and lace.
Casius had tried to make her art, but he was sloppy—crude in his execution, uninspired in his vision. A hack.
Her blood had long since dried, staining her delicate white dress into something reminiscent of an oil painting—deep crimson bleeding into fabric, an abstract masterpiece of suffering.
Her glassy eyes stared, unseeing, at the ceiling, her mouth parted in an unfinished scream.
I tilted my head, drinking the memory of her in. There was beauty in her death. She had suffered, but she had not died for nothing. She and the countless before her had brought me here. They had sealed Casius Moreau’s fate.
And now, the gallery—his gallery—would become his tomb.
The space was vast, with double-height ceilings stretching into darkness. Chandeliers hung from the pinnacle, useless relics of grandeur, outshined by the spotlights lining the stark white walls.
A blank canvas.
For me.
For us.
A metal beam ran the length of the room, meant for suspending sculptures and installations. And at that moment, I knew. This would be my biggest stage.
My masterpiece.
My vision, displayed for all to see. Casius would not be hidden away. He would be put on display. For his victims. For the world. For me.
I turned toward the storage area, leaving Domino to hold our trembling victim. Casius was whimpering now. Tears streaked his face in silent pleas that I did not care to hear. He had no prayers left to offer, no salvation waiting for him.
Even if he repented, even if he wept and clawed at his flesh, he would burn. His sins were etched too deep into his bones, his depravity woven into his DNA.
I found the industrial rope I’d spied when we’d walked past, coarse and heavy in my hands. Perfect. I slung it over my shoulder and strode back into the gallery, my pulse thrumming with anticipation.
This would be a death worth remembering.
This would be art.
Domino looked up from where he held Casius, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Where do you want him?” he called, his voice almost bored. Like Casius was nothing more than another task to complete, but he did it anyway.
I smirked. “Center stage.”
Casius choked on a sob, shaking his head. Domino wrenched him forward, forcing him under the beam as I unwound the rope. The fibers rasped against my fingers, biting into my skin. It felt good. It felt right.
My deft fingers worked quickly, looping the rope around his trembling throat, feeling his rapid pulse beneath my fingertips. He jerked in protest, but Domino was stronger. He forced Casius onto the chair beneath the beam, shoving him upright, making sure the rope sat snug against his throat.
Casius wheezed, eyes bulging, realization dawning. He knew. This was how he would die. Displayed like the pathetic imitation of an artist he was.
I tugged the rope once, testing its hold. It tightened beautifully. Casius gasped, his hands flying to the noose, fingers clawing at the rough fibers.
A laugh slipped past my lips. “Oh, you don’t like that?”
Domino snickered, stepping closer, his presence a heady weight at my back.
“This is where you belong,” I murmured, brushing my fingers over Casius’s sweat-slicked hair. “Hanging like one of your installations. A true work of art.”
Domino hummed in agreement.
“I wonder,” I mused, tilting my head. Toying with his fragile mental state was glorious. “Should we leave you like this? A slow, suffocating death, every moment a stretch of agony?”
Casius shook. His lips moved, but no words came out. His terror was delicious. I let my fingers slide down his chest, feeling the rapid stutter of his heart beneath my touch.
“I could gut you first,” I suggested lightly.
“Or maybe,” Domino drawled, stepping in front of him, “I should just do this.”
I barely had time to register the glint of silver before Domino’s switchblade drove straight up through Casius’s jaw. The blade disappeared into soft flesh, punching through muscle and bone, embedding itself in the roof of his mouth.
Casius convulsed. Blood burst from his lips in thick, bubbling spurts, gurgling down his chin as his throat spasmed around the noose.
I shuddered at the sight, breath catching in my throat.
Beautiful.
Domino’s eyes met mine, dark with hunger.
“Pull the rope,” I breathed.
He obeyed instantly. Casius jerked upward, his body hoisted by the neck, legs kicking, arms flailing. A dying marionette. His strangled screams drowned in his blood. I let out a slow breath, watching the way his limbs convulsed, the way his body fought to cling to life. A futile, pitiful thing.
Domino sighed, almost bored at his futile display, and kicked the chair out from beneath him. Casius dropped, the noose snapping tight, cutting off the last wet gurgle of his existence. His body twitched, his fingers curling inwards, eyes bulging—until finally, he stilled.
A quiet settled over the gallery.
The perfect stillness of death.
Domino wiped the blood from his blade with practiced ease, smirking up at the body swaying in the spotlight. “That was for taking Federico from me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you miss him?”
Domino scoffed, shoving the knife back into his pocket. “I felt nothing for him then and even less now. He got what he deserved.” His gaze flickered to Casius’s corpse, and that smirk sharpened. “Just like you.”
A shiver raced down my spine. Domino was art in motion. A masterpiece in flesh and blood. And as I looked at him, bathed in the glow of our creation, I knew—I would never love anything more than I loved this.
More than I loved him.
“He’s making a mess.” I huffed a laugh, tilting my head as I watched Casius’s body, twitching, jerking— even after death—bleeding out onto the pristine floor. A masterpiece in motion. “A beautiful mess.”
The way the blood pulsed from his wounds, pooling in a slow, creeping stain across the stark white floor, reminded me of a dying star collapsing in on itself. But it meant my vision had to change.
I was nothing if not adaptable.
Slowly, I walked around him, studying the way the light fell—how it illuminated the broken arch of his back, the angles of his limbs, the way his trembling fingers scratched at the ground as if trying to claw himself back from oblivion.
Futile. I imagined the final form I’d leave him in, sculpting it in my mind like clay beneath my fingers.
An angel fallen from grace.
I’d carve his wings from his flesh, let them hang from his back like torn relics of something once divine. Then, I’d break them. Sever the tendons, expose the bone, let him drown in his blood, suffocating on his descent.
A tragic, biblical end for a man who thought himself untouchable.
The shift in the air was subtle, but I felt it like an electric charge along my spine. Domino. I knew before he even touched me—that weight, that presence, that tether pulling me into him. His warmth pressed against me from behind, arms snaking around my waist, pulling me against his body, the hard length of him resting against the curve of my ass.
My blood burned. Desire tangled with adrenaline, coiling tight inside me, sinking its teeth into my skin. But I couldn’t lose focus. Not yet.
This moment was too important.
My swan song.
The final piece of my old life before Domino and I became something else entirely.
“What do you need?” His lips ghosted over the shell of my ear, his voice low, deep, a vibration that sent a full-body shudder rolling through me.
“I need wire, hooks, and wire cutters.” My voice came out breathless, drunk on the scent of smoke, leather, and aged blood that clung to him. Domino smelled like death, and I wanted to drown in it.
He exhaled a quiet groan, pressing closer, his body firm, solid, mine. “You’re perfect, piccolo agnello .”
A hand drifted down from my waist, teasing over my hard length with barely-there touches, setting fire to my nerve endings. I groaned, turning into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling him like the sweetest poison.
Domino cupped my face, his thumbs smearing Casius’s blood over my cheekbones, dragging it down to my lips. “There.”
Then his mouth was on mine. Hot, searing, claiming. I whimpered when he pulled away, my lips chasing his, but he caught my chin, tilting my head back until my eyes met his. Dark green. Endless. Dangerous.
“Finish creating.” His voice was velvet over steel. Commanding. Absolute. Then he glanced at his phone. “We’ll have company soon.”
A spike of adrenaline cut through my desire, and I pulled back slightly, narrowing my eyes. “W-what do you mean?”
The corner of Domino’s mouth lifted, a slow, sinful smirk, blood drying on his lips. “I’m expecting a delivery.”
A shiver crawled down my spine, something dark and thrilling unfurling in my chest. I chewed my bottom lip, tasting copper. “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”
His grip on my chin tightened slightly, just enough to make my breath catch. “No.” That smirk deepened, his gaze burning through me, pulling me apart without a single touch. “I’m going to get you what you asked for, then leave you to it.”
His lips brushed over my forehead, a small, lingering kiss—a promise, a vow, a claim.
Then he was gone.
And I was left standing in the center of the gallery, blood at my feet, my masterpiece waiting to be made.
Once I started, the rest of the world faded away. The edges of my vision blackened, reality peeling like old paint. The murmur of movement—Domino somewhere nearby—was nothing more than a distant vibration, an echo against the walls of my untouchable bubble.
Nothing existed outside of this moment.
Outside of him.
Casius’s body lay still, limp, purged of life yet brimming with new purpose. He would be my greatest work. I exhaled softly, pressing my palm against his chest—not to feel a heartbeat, but to feel the silence. The absence. The void where something human had once existed.
I hummed under my breath, a quiet lullaby, before sliding my blade beneath his shirt and slicing it apart like paper beneath a scalpel. The fabric split, curling away in strips and falling into the blood pooling at my feet.
Then, I carved into his still-warm flesh.
Slow. Intentional. Devout.
The first layer of skin peeled away in ribbons, curling from my knife, exposing the raw, glistening flesh beneath. Then another. And another. Deeper.
Until I saw the pale curve of his ribs—an untouched canvas beneath ruined muscle, waiting to be shaped. I traced my fingers along the bone, mapping out its structure, its possibilities. I could see it already.
His wings.
One by one, I shaped them.
Carving the ribs into feathers, fragile and elegant, each one painstakingly etched, transforming his broken body into something almost divine.
A fallen angel, stripped of his grace.
A symbol of those he had tormented, those he had torn apart.
I worked in silence, threading hooks through the base of each fractured rib, securing the wire, and lifting the wings into place. The body sagged against its restraints, but his wings held. Suspended. Displayed.
The spotlights cast their glow across him, sending long, twisting shadows stretching over the white walls. A grotesque halo. I took a step back, wiping Casius’s blood from my blade with the sleeve of my shirt.
Perfect.
A masterpiece.
A monument to his sins. And then—I destroyed him.
With a single swipe of my blade, I severed the delicate carvings, watching as the ribs cracked, snapping under their weight, wings collapsing in a heap of bone and sinew.
A ruin of what he could have been. What he never was. Casius Moreau was nothing now. Just another forgotten thing. And I had never felt more alive.
The world was nothing but the sound of my breath, heavy and uneven, my chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic bursts. The gallery around me blurred. The blood-slicked floor, the macabre display of Casius’s ruined form—faded into the background.
All I saw was Domino.
He stood there, looming like something carved from the very shadows, his presence sinking its claws into my skin like ownership. Just like that night in the alley—the night he made me his. He struck fast. Unrelenting. Absolute.
My knees hit the floor with a dull crack, pain sparking up my legs before dissolving into nothingness, drowned beneath the weight of his hands.
He forced me down.
Pushed me into place with a cruelty that made my blood heat, with a precision that told me he knew exactly what I needed.
His fingers curled into my hair, twisting tight, controlling me. My breath stuttered when he dragged my head back, my pulse pounding, my throat already open for him before he even spoke.
“Open, piccolo agnello .” I obeyed. Instinctively. Like breathing. “You’ve kept me waiting too long.”
His bloodied fingers pried my lips apart, pressing inside, stroking my tongue. A shiver slithered down my spine as the taste of iron and sweat mixed on my taste buds, filling my mouth with the aftermath of creation.
With practiced ease, he freed his cock. My pulse thundered. Thick. Hard. Already leaking. The fat, swollen head glistened, the evidence of his arousal was proof of what I’d done to him.
What I always did to him.
Watching me turn a corpse into art had been the best kind of foreplay.
His grip in my hair tightened. Pain bloomed, sharp and perfect, and I gasped, my jaw stretching wider as he pulled me closer—exactly where he wanted me.
Where I belonged.
His voice was a dark, merciless command. “You’re going to take everything I give you, Remi, and hold it on your tongue.”
A declaration. A promise. A sentence.
I nodded, my tongue slipping forward in silent offering. My submission fed his hunger.
A wicked smirk curled the corner of his mouth as he dragged himself along my parted lips, tracing their shape, coating them in the thick salt-slicked evidence of his desire.
The scent of him flooded my senses—heady, intoxicating, undeniable. I moaned, the weight of his cock finally settling on my tongue, and Domino laughed. Low. Dark. Victorious.
“Good boy,” he murmured, voice rough, almost affectionate. But there was an edge of cruelty laced beneath it, a twist of sadism that made my skin prickle, my body ache.
He held me there balanced on a knife’s edge.
His cock heavy, resting on my tongue, pulsing against my parted lips as if he was testing me, savoring my obedience. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, he forced me down at the same time his hips snapped forward.
My throat opened for him, raw and eager, taking him deeper. A strangled noise escaped me, muffled around the thick length pushing past my lips, pressing into the heat of my mouth.
Domino groaned, his fingers tightening in my hair, pulling me down until my nose was flush against his stomach.
Until he had all of me. He held me there, hips grinding forward, his cock throbbing as I struggled to breathe.
“Fuck, Remi,” he hissed, tilting his head back, pleasure tightening his features into something almost beautiful.
My nails dug into his thighs as I forced myself to stay still, to take everything, his taste saturating my tongue, heavy and overwhelming. Just as I started to get lightheaded, he yanked me back—spit and precum stretching between my lips and his cock.
I gasped, sucking in a desperate breath, and he chuckled.
“Look at you,” he purred, cupping my jaw, thumb stroking the mess coating my mouth. “So pretty like this. So perfect for me.”
My chest heaved, my tongue darting out to catch the remnants of him still smeared across my lips.
“Again,” I rasped.
Domino obliged. Harder. Faster. Deeper.
Fucking into my mouth with ruthless precision, claiming me with every snap of his hips, with every moan that ripped from my throat. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my jaw aching, but I didn’t care.
I wanted all of him.
I wanted to be ruined by him.
Used by him.
Owned by him.
His breathing turned ragged, his hips faltering—just barely—his control cracking. With one last thrust, he pushed me down to the base, my throat tightening around him as he came with a sharp, guttural growl.
Thick spurts of cum filled me as he unloaded. He held me there, his fingers twitching in my hair, his breath shuddering out as he unraveled in my mouth. And I took it.All of it. Just like he demanded.
When he finally slipped from my mouth, he didn’t move away. Instead, he dropped to his knees before me. His chest was still heaving, his pupils blown wide, his lips wet from where they’d been bruising against mine.
A reverent look settled over his face, something close to worship, as if he was gazing at something holy.
“So fucking perfect for me, piccolo agnello.” His hands cupped my face—gentle, almost tender—before he sealed his mouth against mine.
The heat of him, the weight of him, devoured me whole. His tongue licked into my mouth, tasting himself, swallowing it down as we passed his release back and forth between us—sharing, consuming, claiming—until only the faintest, bitter-sweet trace remained.
Domino growled against my lips, the sound rough and dangerous, before he shoved me down onto the cold, bloodstained floor.
My head spun. Whether from lack of oxygen or the sheer force of him, I didn’t know.
The next thing I felt was fabric tearing—a sudden rush of cold air as my jeans were ripped from my legs.
A choked moan escaped me as his calloused hand wrapped around my cock, his grip unrelenting as he worked me over—root to tip, slick with my leaking desperation.
“I need to be inside you.” His voice was hoarse, thick with something unhinged. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe unless I’m inside you in every way possible. My cum down your throat. Filling your ass. Burying myself so deep inside you that you feel me in your fucking lungs.”
My body shook.
My pulse thundered.
His words destroyed me.
Domino slid his hands beneath my knees, shoving them up to my chest. My hands instinctively locked into place, holding myself open for him like I was meant for nothing else.
My eyes stayed locked on his as he moved. Pushed his jeans down just enough to free himself, the heavy weight of him thick and aching.
The sharp glint of silver flashed in the gallery lights. His switchblade. Domino pressed the edge to his arm, the blade kissing his skin in one smooth, practiced stroke. Fresh claret welled along the cut, sliding in rivulets down his forearm. Rich and intoxicating.
He ran his thumb through the blood before dragging it across my lips. “Open,” he growled.
And I obeyed. He held his arm above me, watching as drops of blood landed on my face, rolled down my chin, and dripped into my mouth. I held my tongue out to catch more.
A dark fire shimmered in his eyes. Hypnotizing. Entrancing. Owning.
I swallowed him down like he was the only thing keeping me alive.
He pulled back just enough to run his hand over his own arm, coating his palm in blood before wrapping it around his cock.
Slick. Wet. Claimed.
A fresh moan tore from my throat as he scooped up more and dragged his fingers over my empty, desperate hole. My entire body trembled in anticipation, with a need so desperate it felt like I was dying.
Then he pushed inside me, bottoming out on a single thrust. Raw. Brutal. Unrelenting. I threw my head back, a wrecked sound escaping my lips as pleasure and pain crashed over me in tandem.
Like a blade sliding through silk. Like worship and destruction, blurred into one. Electricity snapped across my overheated skin.
I was burning alive.
Desperate to be filled. Desperate to fall.
Domino leaned down, his breath hot against my ear, his body crushing mine into the floor as he punched himself in deeper. “Who do you belong to, Remi?”
His words weren’t a question. They were law. He drove himself forward, so deep my vision blurred. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. As he lifted my hips, changing the angle and thrusting in deeper than before. I was lost in him. Drowned in him.
A choked sob slipped from my lips. “F-fuuuuck—” I gasped. “You. Only you.”
His teeth scraped along my throat, the edge of a bite teasing my skin. “That’s right,” he snarled, sinking them into my neck.
His thrusts became vicious, merciless—a relentless pace that had my body arching, shaking, unraveling beneath him.
“You’re mine. Forever.”
And when I shattered, when I came apart beneath him, I knew?—
There was no escaping him.
I didn’t want to.