Chapter 5 #2
“Come with me,” he said. The words were quiet, almost gentle, but they hit like a blade. “We run. Tonight. I have money. I have a way out. You don’t have to keep living under his roof while he looks at you like you’re already guilty.”
Keisha’s chest rose and fell fast. “Why are the Italians really after him, Malik? Why is him being out so early such a problem?”
Malik lifted his head. For the first time the softness was gone.
“Because Demario didn’t just move weight.
He didn’t just kill soldiers. Five years ago he walked into a Russo sit-down under a flag of truce and executed Johnny’s oldest son at the table.
Shot him in the face while the kid was still holding a glass of wine.
Then he burned the warehouse with three more of their made men inside and left the bodies posed like a message.
Johnny Russo’s firstborn. That was personal.
That was diabolical. The feds only caught him on the drug charges because the Italians wanted him buried, not dead.
They wanted him to rot. Early release was never supposed to happen.
Someone pulled strings that should not have been able to move.
Now Johnny wants blood, and he wants it slow. ”
The room felt smaller.
Keisha stared up at him, the truth settling over her like cold water. Demario had done something that could never be walked back. Something that made every day he stayed free a direct insult to the entire Russo family.
Malik brushed a strand of hair from her face, voice dropping again.
“Run with me, Keisha. Before he finds out everything. Before the Italians decide you’re more useful dead than alive. I can protect you. He can’t even protect himself right now.”
Outside, the city kept moving like nothing had changed.
Keisha drove with the windows cracked, heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out.
Every pair of headlights in the rearview made her grip the wheel tighter.
Someone was following. Not close enough to catch a plate, but close enough that the same dark sedan stayed three cars back through every turn.
She cut down side streets, doubled back, killed her lights once, and only when the sedan finally disappeared did she risk the last stretch to the safe house.
She slipped in through the side door like a thief, shoes in her hand, pulse still racing. The house was quiet. She made it halfway down the hall before Rico stepped out of the shadows.
“Where the fuck you been?”
Keisha spun, eyes flashing. “Move.”
Rico blocked the path. “You’ve been gone for hours. Demario’s upstairs thinking you’re asleep. I watched you sneak out. Who were you with?”
She laughed, sharp and mean. “Why you care? You already stole my man. What, you want the leftovers too?”
Rico’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t steal shit. You threw that pussy at me the night he came home because you were trying to make another nigga jealous. Don’t rewrite history now that it blew up in your face.”
“You gay-ass bitch,” she snapped. “Sitting around waiting for Demario to bend you over again while you judge me. You’re a traitor just like they say. Snitch-ass,”
“I’m not your enemy,” Rico cut in, voice low. “You are. You keep choosing the wrong dick at the wrong time and dragging everybody into the fire with you. Malik, me, whoever else you’ve been spreading for. You’re the reason this house is a cage right now.”
He stepped closer, hand reaching for her waist like he still thought he had a claim.
Keisha slapped it away, then shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back, lost his footing on the top step, and went down the short flight of stairs in a heavy tumble.
She stood at the top looking down at him sprawled on the landing, breathing hard.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” she said, then turned and walked upstairs.
Demario was awake when she pushed the bedroom door open. Sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but black sweatpants, gun on the nightstand, eyes already cold.
“Where were you?”
Keisha closed the door. “I needed air.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was quiet, dangerous. “You look like you just got fucked and ran from something. Talk.”
She stared at him, anger and fear twisting together. “You never told me why you really went away. Not the real reason. You let me believe it was just the usual street shit. Drugs. Territory. But it was more than that, wasn’t it?”
Demario stood slowly. “That wasn’t for you to know. For good reason.”
“I deserve to know. I’m the one sleeping next to you while people try to kill us.”
He crossed the room in three steps, grabbed her by the jaw, and forced her eyes to his. “You deserve whatever I decide you deserve. Right now that’s me not putting your disloyal ass out there for the wolves. Be grateful.”
Keisha’s voice cracked. “I was with my first love tonight.”
The silence that followed was heavier than any gunshot.
Demario’s hand dropped from her face. He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time and hating every second of it.
“Malik,” he said. Not a question.
She didn’t deny it.
Something in him snapped.
He yanked her forward by the arm, spun her around, and bent her over the edge of the bed.
The belt came off his waist with a sharp hiss of leather.
He didn’t warn her. The first strike landed hard across both ass cheeks, the sound loud and mean in the quiet room.
Keisha cried out. The second hit lower, the tip of the belt kissing her pussy through her jeans.
He kept going, ass, the soft crease where thigh met cheek, then deliberate, stinging lashes that caught her clit through the fabric until her legs shook and tears welled.
“You can’t keep your fucking legs closed,” he growled, voice rough with rage and something darker. “I don’t know why I love your low-down dirty ass so much, but I might just blow your brains out this time.”
He ripped her jeans and panties down in one violent motion. The smell of sex hit him immediately. Fresh. Another man’s cum already leaking out of her swollen pussy, creamy and obvious against her dark skin.
Demario went still for half a second. Then pure fury took over.
He shoved two fingers inside her, pulled them out shiny with Malik’s load, and wiped it across her mouth. “Who the fuck was it this time? You let that nigga nut in my pussy and then come home like nothing happened?”
Keisha sobbed, tasting salt and another man. “Demario, please,”
He grabbed the Glock off the nightstand, racked it, and fired two shots into the headboard inches from her face. The sound was deafening. Wood splintered. She screamed, body jerking, tears streaming.
“Shut the fuck up.”
He pressed the warm barrel against her dripping entrance and pushed.
The metal was thick, unyielding, still hot from the shots.
Keisha’s sob turned into a broken moan as he fucked her with the gun, slow at first, then harder, twisting the barrel so she felt every inch of cold steel stretching her open.
Cum and her own juices coated the weapon, dripping down onto the sheets.
“Look at you,” he snarled, working the gun deeper. “Creaming on the same gun I might use to end you. Nasty bitch.”
She came with a shattered cry, pussy convulsing around the barrel, more fluid gushing out around the metal. Demario pulled it free, tossed it aside, and flipped her onto her back. He shoved her thighs wide, lined up his thick dick, and slammed home in one brutal stroke.
The stretch made her scream. He didn’t ease up. He fucked her like he hated her and loved her in the same breath, deep, punishing strokes that made the bed slam the wall, balls smacking wetly against her ass, one hand wrapped around her throat while the other pinned her wrist above her head.
“This pussy is mine,” he growled against her mouth, hips snapping. “I don’t care how many niggas you let stretch it. I don’t care if you run. I will find you, fuck the loyalty back into you, and if I have to put a bullet in the next man who touches it, I will. You hear me?”
Keisha could only sob and nod, another orgasm ripping through her as he pounded her through it.
Her walls clenched around him, milking him, juices soaking his dick and the sheets beneath them.
Demario buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding her with thick ropes until it leaked out around his dick and mixed with everything else already inside her.
He stayed deep, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers.
“You’re not leaving this house again,” he said, voice raw. “Not until I decide what to do with you. And if Malik comes looking… I’ll put him in the ground for real this time.”
Outside, the night kept its secrets.
Inside the bedroom, Keisha lay wrecked and shaking, the taste of gunpowder and another man’s cum still on her tongue, and the only man she had ever truly feared still buried inside her.