Housewife

The white roses looked beautiful.

Admiring the glistening snowflakes, the pale petals of the white roses were a sight to behold. The icy breeze caressed my face as I stood marvelling at the sight. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as I took in the raw beauty of nature’s masterpiece.

My senses were overwhelmed as I breathed in the crisp air, savouring the smells of the freshly fallen snow and the aroma of the roses. Nirali’s garden, once an exotic haven of vibrant colours, had now succumbed to the cold winter. However, the white roses stood tall and proud, defying the harsh elements.

These tenacious white roses were the epitome of grace and resilience, a symbol of hope during the bleak winter.

Nirali and Abel have been our gracious hosts for the past two days, but our stay has been anything but relaxing. Saint is on a mission to track down the ruthless mastermind orchestrating the hitmen, leaving me alone with my thoughts much of the time. Abel, too, has been occupied but manages to carve out moments with his wife whenever possible.

As I stand outside in the crisp winter air, lost in contemplation, a voice startles me. It’s Abel, and I’m grateful for the friendly face. ‘You’ve been out here for too long, Irena,’ he observes, and I realize I’ve been standing in the snow for who knows how long.

Chuckling at my absentmindedness, I nod in agreement. ‘Yes, it’s freezing out here, but the peace and quiet are worth it.’ Abel nods, and we stand together in comfortable silence, just two humans enjoying each other’s company amidst the chill.

‘Why the early return? And where’s Saint?’ I inquire, the roses before us only serving as a brief distraction from my curiosity.

With snowflakes alighting on his hair, Abel plunges his hands deep into his pockets, his cheeks rosy from the biting weather. ‘He’s occupied, you see,’ he explains.

‘Occupied with what?’ I shoot back, taking him aback.

‘Killing people,’ I infer, my words a stark contrast to our serene surroundings.

‘Do you ever feel remorse after taking a life?’ I query my gaze now fixed on Abel – his ponderous expression hinting at a deeper dilemma.

‘Once upon a time, I did,’ he confesses. ‘But now, my emotions are of a different ilk. I take solace in knowing that they will be paying for their sins below, despite the fact that I too shall be joining them soon.’

‘You delight in taking lives?’ I probe.

A brief shake of the head and a heavy sigh. ‘I am not my brother – sadism is not my thing. I am driven by anger, not the hurt. Hurting others is simply not my cup of tea.’

A slow nod punctuates my understanding of his complete monologue.

His words hit me like a bittersweet symphony, orchestrated with diabolical intent. ‘I derive no pleasure from harming the harmless,’ he emphasizes, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘My motive is driven by what I gain from them, whether it’s an object or a favour. I’m not always like this, but when the situation calls for it, I’ll play my hand.’

My mind is ablaze with questions for him, but I know now is not the time to unleash them all. I’ll hold back for now and wait for the perfect moment to delve deeper into his world.

The past few years have been a constant battle, plagued by the haunting memories of those men who violated me in the most despicable way. But now, after our home was violently penetrated by unknown forces, something in me has shifted. I’m finally ready to face my demons.

Living with a man who can unleash unimaginable brutality and walk away unfazed has made me realize that I need to be stronger, physically and emotionally. I’m determined to learn how to defend myself and what better way to start than by taking down the three despicable men who robbed me of my innocence?

As I search for answers, my gaze falls upon Abel. The question escapes me before I can hold it back. ‘Guilt. Do you know what that feels like? After killing,’ I ask, my voice trembling. Abel tilts his head and meets my gaze with his piercingly green eyes. ‘Never,’ he replies tersely, before pausing for a moment. ‘The more you do it, the less it haunts you. It’s just another task to check off your list. A mundane activity,’ he explains. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air between us. After a long pause, he finally speaks again.

‘What prompted this line of questioning, Irena?’

‘I want to kill some people,’ I confess, my eyes locked on the pure white petals of the rose. My companion’s gaze meets mine. ‘Whose blood do you seek?’ he inquires. ‘Those who ripped a piece of me away when I was young,’

I reply, my voice tranquil despite the violent intent.

‘But do you possess the courage to exact your revenge?’ he challenges.

I pause for a moment, reflecting on the rage that fueled me for so long.

‘Yes,’ I assert coolly, unflinching. He nods in acknowledgment as we both turn back to the innocent bloom, the promise of violence hanging heavy in the air.

As I await Saint’s return, I find myself alone at the dinner table. Though Abel and Nirali joined me in dining an hour earlier, their plans for the next day prompted them to retire for the night. Meanwhile, I have been keenly anticipating the arrival of my husband who has been absent all day and will soon be back as it nears 10. There is something that I must tell him – after having a talk with Abel – about what I want for myself. I need to learn how to defend myself both physically and mentally. The first step towards achieving this is to face the men, and I am determined to do so. Suddenly, I hear the front door and heavy footsteps. I put down the glass of wine and straighten up as Saint walks into the room, completely covered in blood from head to toe. Despite his damaged appearance, with cuts and bruises all over his body and his clothes drenched in blood, I try to remain focused and determined to face my fears.

But my worries for him kick in.

‘Sai-‘ Mid-sentence, I am interrupted as he approaches me, drops to his knees, and lays his head on my lap without a single word. I am stunned, frozen in time as Saint rests his weary head upon me.

My mind races with confusion, unsure of how to react. My hands act on their own, surrendering to my intruding thoughts as I delicately run my fingers through his damp hair. He lets out a sigh, and in the silence, I can hear his breath catch.

‘I’m so fucking tired Irena,’ he finally confesses, his voice laced with desperation. I remain silent, still caressing his hair, as he speaks. I take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask him, ‘When was the last time you slept?’

My heart races with anticipation as I wait for his response. His voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he answers, ‘I haven’t slept since you were last in my bed.’ My body reacts instinctively, biting down on my lip as my stomach flutters with a newfound feeling.

Ever since we left the house, Saint and I haven’t shared a bed. It felt like a bizarre fear took over me, preventing any closeness between us. But I couldn’t understand why my emotions were acting this way.

As I lay there, drowning in my insecurities, Saint’s presence helped me feel strong. With him around, there was nothing in the world that could hurt me – or so I thought.

Suddenly, he awakened me from my thoughts. ‘Why are you up?’ he asked, his voice full of concern. I swallowed hard, trying to seem casual. ‘I was just waiting for you,’ I muttered, giving him half of the truth.

He lifted his head, and our eyes locked. His piercing green eyes looked empty, devoid of any emotion. Not even anger. ‘Why were you waiting for me?’ he probed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

‘I needed to tell you something important,’ I replied, the words spilling out of my mouth.

He paused, his words hanging in the air, as though he was searching for the right thing to say. ‘Which is…’ he trailed off, his voice low and measured as his eyes studied mine. ‘I’m ready,’ I said, the words tumbling from my lips before I could even think about what they meant. Saint regarded me for a long moment, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘Are you sure?’ His deep voice was like velvet, smooth and confident, yet laced with concern. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. ‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘If I want to learn how to protect myself from this world, I have to face them.’

I couldn’t help but think back to the days when I believed that hurting people was never the answer. Yet as I stood here now, my resolve was slowly starting to crumble, and I couldn’t explain why.

‘When do you want-‘ Saint began but I cut him off. ‘Tomorrow,’ I said, my words clipped. Saint’s eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying. ‘You may not know it now, but you’ll love it when you end each and every one of them,’ he said, a fierce edge creeping into his voice.

My stomach clenched at his words, my fear crawling up my throat.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

I let out a resigned sigh and kept my mouth shut. Slowly, I nudged Saint’s head off my lap and got to my feet. He followed me, closing the gap as I tipped my head back to take in his impressive 6,4 frame.

‘You never listen, do you?’ I said, meeting his confused expression with a pointed look at his soaked clothes. He smiled sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, planting a kiss on my forehead. I tried to fight a grin and bit my lip instead. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up,’ I said, taking his hand and leading him to the guest bedroom.

In the bathroom, I gestured for him to sit on the toilet while I rummaged through the cabinet for the first aid kit. ‘Take off your shirt,’ I instructed, laying out the necessary supplies to tend to Saint’s cuts and scrapes. A smug smirk crossed his lips. ‘I like where this is headed,’ he quipped.

With a mischievous glint in my eye, I couldn’t resist rolling them as I quipped, ‘Shut up.’

When Saint peeled off his shirt, my heart skipped a beat as I stationed myself firmly between his masculine long legs. ‘This might sting a bit,’ I warned, gently dabbing his injured face with alcohol-soaked cotton.

As I meticulously attended to his wounds, Saint simply rested there, silently observing my every move.

‘I’ll sleep with you tonight. Only because you’ve not been sleeping for the past few days.’ I told him, as I continued to aid him. He chuckles lightly. ‘You can just say you enjoy being in bed with me.’ he teases and I roll my eyes.

I do, but I will not admit it out loud.

‘Says the guy who can’t sleep without me.’ I let out and he grins. ‘Touché.’

A stillness gripped the room, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Suddenly, as if impelled by an unexplained force, Saint burst out,

‘You are beautiful, Irena.’

I froze, my eyes meeting him as my cheeks turned bright red. ‘Where did that come from?’ I managed to stutter out.

But before I could say anything else, he reached over, his hand curling around my thigh, drawing me closer. ‘Who cares where it came from? Just know that you’re beautiful.’

I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a flutter in my chest at his words. ‘You’re beautiful too, Saint,’ I murmured softly.

He laughed, a twinkle in his eyes as he revealed his lone dimple. ‘Hardly.

I’m not beautiful.’

‘But beauty comes in many forms,’ I replied, feeling a sudden surge of courage. ‘And you, Saint, are beautiful in your own dark and twisted way.’

He licked his lips, absorbing my words with solemn attention. ‘You know what? You’re something else,’ he finally said, releasing me from his grip.

I gathered up the wad of bloody cotton and tossed it into the trash. ‘Okay, I’m done,’ I declared, turning back to him with a newfound lightness in my step.

Saint rises from his seat without uttering a sound, deftly removing his pants and stepping out of them. I’m left standing there, a bundle of nerves and desire, mesmerized by the sight of his chiselled back. My eyes rove over the defined muscles, tracing the intricate tattoos that adorn his skin before landing somewhere they really shouldn’t – on that perfectly sculpted ass.

I can’t help but tilt my head to one side, envisioning myself grabbing onto those firm curves as he pounds into me with abandon.

But before I could get lost in my fantasies, I cleared my throat to remind him of my presence. Saint turns his head, flashing me an innocent grin before stepping under the showerhead and letting the water cascade down his body.

With a deep sigh and a satisfying crack of his neck, Saint’s wet hair cascaded down his back as he tilted his head, lost in thought. With a sudden baldness, I cast my inhibitions to the side and slipped out of my clothes, sneaking into the steamy sanctuary of the shower. The water felt like a gentle weight on my skin, washing away the traces of the day. As I looked over Saint’s body, I noticed the dry residue of blood and decided to take charge and tenderly scrub him clean.

With every stroke of the scrub, my hands explored his body, making sure not to miss an inch. Saint turned around, offering me his rock-hard abs for my special attention. He took the scrub from me, rinsed it away, and started washing me with a new soap leather of soap. The warmth of the water washed away any awkwardness, allowing for comfortable silence between us.

As Saint and I lock eyes, a magnetic force pulls us closer together. His gaze is intense, and he tilts my chin up ever so slightly. My heart flutters as his warm breath caresses my lips, beckoning me toward him.

The moment our lips meet, the world fades away. Our kiss is a slow burn, building in intensity with each passing second. It’s more than physical; it’s emotional, intimate, and we both feel it.

I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his wet hair, lost in the passion of the moment. Saint’s arousal is obvious, pressing against me, and I moan softly as he pulls me in closer. The taste of him fills my senses as our tongues dance together.

Our kiss becomes more intense, more primal before Saint pulls away with a satisfied smile. I’m left breathless, longing for more.

My heart aches to fully exude my emotions, but the words get stuck in my throat. ‘I want to, I really do, but-.’ Before I could finish my sentence, he silenced me with a gentle touch of his lips against mine. I bask in the moment, feeling his warm breath on my skin as I lose myself in the kiss.

Finally we part and he reassures me that there’s no need to explain. With a soft smile, I concede. I clutch him tightly, laying my ear on his chest to hear his heartbeat. We share in the sweet intimacy of the embrace, silently understanding each other’s unspoken sentiments.

As I coolly survey the arsenal of bullets before me, my mind is a hive of fierce tactics on how best to bring them to their knees.

Sure, Saint had inflicted critical harm, but I would ensure that my wrathful stamp would be the last thing they saw as they descended into the fiery abyss.

Suddenly, the car grinds to a halt and my attention is drawn to a towering brick edifice before us. The yard is littered with a host of vehicles and burly guards pepper the perimeter, leaving no doubt to the unwavering, impregnable security in place.

As the purr of the engine faded to a halt, I snapped shut the small case and switched my focus to Saint. Before me stood a work of divine art. A white shirt clung to his every muscle, revealing biceps that threatened to burst free.

His black pants and shoes were perfectly tailored, making him look like a Greek god gracing the mortal world. Dark hair lazily caressed his forehead, a look that defined him. And then there was the cologne. The woodsy scent tickled my nose and sent shivers down my spine. His stubble was trimmed to perfection, his lips plump and perfect.

A fallen angel in human guise, he was flawless.

‘You don’t have to be afraid,’ he said, coaxing me out of my seat. ‘I’ll protect you.’

‘I have nothing to fear,’ I quipped, giving him a smirk before stepping out into the sunlight. My black pants suddenly felt too plain in comparison to his majestic presence. I smoothed out any wrinkles and admired the results in the car’s window. My curly hair framed my face, and my light makeup added just a hint of glamour. I’d decided to go formal today – a white blouse with black pants, and heels to match.

This was going to be a day to remember.

Saint emerged from the car and strode towards me, exuding confidence and power. Together we made our way toward the warehouse, my heart pounding with anticipation. As we walked, I noticed two guards staring intently at us. But Saint’s words rang in my ears: I am a queen here.

The thought filled me with a newfound sense of authority and I held my head up high, a regal aura emanating from my every step. After all, as his wife, whatever was his was also mine.

But as we entered the building, the air turned dank and frigid, the stench of death and blood wafting through the air. We pressed on, ignoring the intimidating men strewn throughout the warehouse, each one bearing a gruesome scar that told a story of torture and pain.

Finally, we reached our destination: a door guarded by two imposing figures who stood their ground, unwilling to let us pass.

‘Are they still alive?’ Saint inquired of the guard. ‘Affirmative, sir. Dr. Stone made certain of it,’ the soldier with the buzz cut replied. Saint gave a satisfied nod. ‘Excellent,’ he murmured, his hand outstretched to receive the weapon the guard now proffered.

Turning to me, his eyes gleamed with a sinister light. I hesitated for a moment before yielding him the case of bullets. As he deftly loaded the firearm, I could feel the pulsing darkness urging me to take matters into my own hands. But Saint held my gaze steadily, a loaded gun in his own hand.

‘There are more weapons inside – if you want to take things further,’ he said coolly, his voice a low growl. My nod of acquiescence was all he needed. I whirled on my heel, my sights set on the unyielding steel doors ahead.

‘Open the door,’ Saint commands his sentinel, as they hasten to extract the keys and insert them into the lock. The lock yields with a satisfying click, and the portal glides open in a rusty hinge with a dolorous groan. My heart races as I’m confronted with the pungent odor of blood and grime, but I steel myself against the instinct to recoil.

As I step into the room, a shiver runs down my spine from the dark, chilly air. Three naked men hang limply above me, their arms bound above their heads and their heads hung low in surrender. The concrete floor is slick with eerie fluids, and the walls are spattered with dry blood. A terrifying display of torturous tools adorns one wall. Though there is a single window, sunlight only trickles in and cannot brighten the shadowed corners of the room. To my left, a table gleams with a collection of deadly weapons, all polished and ready for use. The steady, dripping sound that echoes around me seems to emanate from a single source – a leaky tap or perhaps a hole in the ceiling.

Suddenly, Saint and two ominous guards enter, slamming the door shut behind them.

Every detail engraved itself into my mind. The twisted features of their faces, their ominous names, and the putrid stench that lingered in the air.

Each moment of that fateful night feels as fresh as a dewy morning. The rancid imprint they left on my body is still as tangible as ever. Their blood and fluids clung to me like a sickness. Cuts and bruises lined their bodies, open wounds oozing with disgust. It was evident that Saint showed them no mercy.

‘Wake them up.’ Saint’s husky voice broke the eerie silence. One of the guards seized the hose that lay lifeless on the ground, turning it on with a vicious twist. The stream of frigid water struck the trio with brutal force, eliciting sharp gasps and feeble moans. They were now wide awake, writhing in agony.

Shane.

Mikolaj.

Piotr.

As I enter the dimly lit room, Shane’s gaze is fixed on me like a hawk on its prey. His narrowed eyes betray his recognition of me and the anger within me begins to boil like molten lava. Moving closer, I confront him with a steely glare.

‘Remember me?’ I challenge, my voice laced with venom. Shane’s eyes widen in shock as I step forward, asserting my presence. ‘Yeah, you remember me.’

As Shane struggles against his chains, I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his plight. ‘What do you want from me?’ he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘I told you-‘

‘Shut up Shane with your bullshit excuse.’ I snarl, cutting him off. My rage pulses through me like an adrenaline rush as Piotr coughs out blood in the corner. ‘You know exactly why I’m here.’

Shane’s eyes dart back and forth, searching for a way out. But there is none, and he knows it. ‘Please,’ Piotr chokes out weakly, ‘just kill me already.’

I smile, feeling the rush of power coursing through me as I contemplate my next move. This is just the beginning.

‘Awh, Piotr. Remember when I begged just like you to stop? Please stop, I just want it all to end, and all you fuckers found it amusing to assault me.’

I started to move in a circular motion around them, my fingers gliding over the tip of the gun as I did.

‘The pain, the cries, the humiliation you’ve caused me,’ I sneered, relishing the power in my voice. ‘But enough talk. I didn’t come here to chat. I came to make you pay, to watch you beg for mercy as I did’

With a flick of my hand, I signaled the men to free Shain. He would be my first victim.

‘You fucking worthless dirty whore.’ Shain let out a guttural groan as he pressed his insistent fingers deeper into me, and I recoiled, the urge to escape almost overwhelming. My stomach clenched, and tears coursed down my cheeks as he pinned me mercilessly to the ground, his breath thick with the stench of alcohol.

‘Please,’ I begged, but my pleading voice only seemed to spur him on. His dry lips grazed my cheek as he sneered, ‘You want this, baby girl. I’ve seen the way you eye me up at dinner.’

A searing pain drove through me as he slammed his fingers into me harder, and I cried out in anguish.

At that moment, the world around me faded into a blur of red, my mind cleaved clean. A switch flipped off inside me, a sudden white-out of everything I had ever cared about. Nothing mattered anymore.

He groaned as a thunderous headache erupted in his skull, his eyes tightly shut against the dull pain. The throbbing was so intense, it felt like a heartbreak of a whore, and he cursed under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching up to assess the damage. To his shock, his arms and legs were restrained, rendering him immobile and vulnerable. As he tried to sit up, he realized he was lying flat on his back.

I yanked him by his shaggy hair, bubbling snot and tears streaming down his face like an ephemeral river. ‘Irena, I’m sorry,’ he pleaded with infantile sniveling. ‘I’ve changed.’ But I was having none of it; I shoved the gun into his mouth, my eyes narrowing in menacing disdain. ‘You silly, silly man,’

I said through gritted teeth, my innocent smile painting my luscious lips.

And as he trembled and whimpered in fear, I remained collected and calm, basking in my power over him.

Every sound faded into silence, consumed by the insatiable hunger that raged within me. With each passing moment, I swelled larger, towering over my helpless prey who shrank before me. The bloodlust was all-consuming, a thick fog that suffocated reason and restraint. Deep within my soul, something primal stirred, a force of untold power that surged through my veins. I felt invincible, unstoppable, driven by a strength I never knew I possessed. And I set my sights on one singular objective: to inflict upon this person a pain so severe, so profound, that it would be etched into their very being. They would understand what it meant to lose something so vital, so precious, that it felt like an integral part of themselves had been torn away.

‘At least you’re going to taste the ashes of your pathetic fucker of a friend who is surely rotting in hell.’ With a bitter taste in my mouth, I pulled the trigger, painting the room in a gruesome display of gore. The metallic stench of blood and the sound of muffled sobs filled the air as Shane’s limp body hit the ground with a jarring thud. Piotr’s desperate pleas for mercy were silenced by his parched throat, a testament to the inhumane treatment we had been subjected to. The rustling of fabric alerted me to someone’s presence, but my focus remained unwaveringly fixed on the eerie scene before me. How long had I been trapped in this nightmare? Hunger pangs gnawed at my gut, a cruel reminder of our grim reality as I struggled to stay alert.

He tried to wrench his arms free and felt narrow straps dig into his flesh.

He cried out in pain and kept battering at the straps with his forearms. They sawed in deeper and drew blood, but he was too far gone to notice it. His every instinct forced him to fight this unseen enemy, to escape these bonds, to run free once again.

He snapped his head back, the impact dizzying him for a moment. Our eyes then finally meet.

‘Crazy how parallel our lives are,’ I announce.

‘No, stop it! Stop it!’ My cries of agony were drowned out by Viktor’s laughter as I watched the blood from my nose mix with my bitter tears. It was a scene straight out of a horror movie as Piotr slammed my head against the pool table, his hard bulge pushing against me from behind. My protests were met with his cruel advances, pushing me to play his twisted game.

‘Aye, Viktor bring it!’ Piotr barked at the amused observer. I begged for mercy, pleading with Viktor to save me from the brute before me. But, he only responded with a smirk, leaving me at the mercy of his sadistic friend.

‘It’s just a game, Irena,’ Piotr sneered, his grip tightening on me. The taste of my fear was sweet to him as he leaned in to attack my wil power. With sick amusement, he praised my body, reducing me to nothing more than a sex toy for their entertainment.

Piotr pushes deeper into me. Grinding against my butt as he bites my ear lobe. ‘You have the body of a porn star do you know that? Viktor is a lucky man to have you. Good thing he’s generous enough to share you because if I were him, I would be a greedy fuck.’

‘Ah, Jenet. Set it down for Piotr. We are about to play a special game with my dear wife.’ With an air of grandeur, Viktor exclaims, beaming from ear to ear. Jenet shoots me a heartbroken look as she sets a tray down beside me, casting her gaze downward as she walks away. Viktor rises from the couch and places his empty glass by the pool table, his eyes like a dark abyss, drawing me in. My breath catches in my throat as he picks up an object, revealing a sharp, glinting blade. ‘What’s… what’s going on?’ I stammer, my voice trembling. ‘We’re about to play our favorite game,’ Viktor explains coolly, ‘Five Finger Fillet. I’ll have you place your hand palm down and I’ll swiftly stab the spaces between your fingers, gradually increasing my speed.

If I manage not to stab you, then Piotr here can have you for the night. If I do…’ He trails off with a sinister grin. ‘You’ll be mine.’

I shake my head, struggling against Piotr.

With a wicked chuckle, Viktor savors the sheer terror in my eyes as he stabs the sharp blade between my trembling fingers. Piotr pins me down, his hot breath on my neck as he grinds against my back, heightening the experience.

My heart is a drum in my chest, pounding with anticipation and dread, and tears fall from my eyes as I plead silently for mercy. Suddenly, a sob escapes my lips as the fear consumes me completely.

Saint’s men positioned a lavish table in front of me while Piotr, the only unchained one, quivered on the ground. He attempted to rise up and flee but the swift men intercepted him. With a firm grip on his hair, they threw him at my feet. I simply stood there, arms folded, staring down at him.

I gripped his hair and commanded him to kneel. ‘Shall we relive that fateful night?’ I proposed with a smirk. I took a step closer and whispered in his ear, ‘Do you want to play a game?’ Piotr’s eyes welled with tears as he shook his head.

Wrong fucking answer.

With a swift motion, I jerked his head backward, sending him into a dizzying spin. Then, with a fierce determination, I slammed his skull against the cold, metallic table again and again, heedless to his screams of fury and fear. The acrid tang of blood mingled with the putrid stench of excretion, decaying and corroding the air around us. As the red fluid spattered my face, clothes, and hands, a frenzied bloodlust seethed through my veins, overwhelming reason and sanity. The man’s gasping, ragged breaths invited the foul tastes back into his mouth, like a twisted, demented film of unspeakable cruelty. And in that gruesome moment, I called for the knife, eager to take my revenge.

‘No…ba-…’ he croaked as loud as he could. ‘No… Don’t…’

‘Pull out his arm.’ With an unrelenting demand, I sprang into action.

In one fluid movement, I seized Piotr’s arm and held it outstretched. the memories of that fateful night flooded my mind, I mercilessly plunged my blade between the spaces of his fingers, gaining momentum with each passing second. Piotr’s body trembled with fear, his eyes screwed shut in anticipation of the piercing pain that was soon to come. His voice was hoarse from previous cries, his lips parched from thirst – only a gasp escaped from between them now. With unwavering strength, I thrust the blade into his flesh, rending a piercing scream from his lips. Piotr fell heavily against the cold metal surface, gasping for breath, his body wracked with pain.

‘Ple-‘

I aim for his head, my finger tightening on the trigger. The bullet pierces the base of his skull with precision, unleashing a gory explosion of blood and brain matter that splatters across the table in gruesome glory.

My chest heaves with the adrenaline of the moment, my gaze cutting towards Mikolaj. His eyes are filled with sorrow, but even they cannot mask his acceptance of his fate. ‘No point in begging right?’ His voice is cold and unfeeling, devoid of any hint of compassion.

A towering figure looms over me, a Cuban cigar perched in the corner of his lips. His head tilts and a devilish grin spreads across his face. I’m forced to my knees as he puffs out a cloud of smoke, the ashes falling like burning stars upon my skin. Silent tears stream down my face, but there’s no use in begging.

Viktor’s gang of friends watch on from across the room as Mikolaj lurks closer, his eyes set on me. I’m left half-naked, my torn dress cast aside, and my body bears the marks of their torment – blood, sweat, cuts, and bruises.

‘You’re nothing but a good-for-nothing slut,’ Mikolaj growls in a raspy voice. ‘And you’re going to take it all.’ With a gut-wrenching sound, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants to reveal his penis. Shudders of disgust rattle through me as he taps it on my face I cringe leaning back. I will not allow myself to suck such a thing. He groans in pleasure. My trembling body is met with the cold, hard steel of a gun pressed against my temple.

‘Open wide,’ he orders.

I blink back to the traumatic memory.

‘No,’ I declared with conviction. I aimed my weapon toward his dick with unwavering determination and pulled the trigger. His screams resonated through the air as a vivid light pierced through his eyes, devouring his nerves with ferocity. ‘I’d rather you bleed your dick out to death.’

Mikolaj writhed in agony, frothing at the mouth and succumbing to the darkness that slowly embraced him. I released the firearm from my grip, a weight lifted from my shoulders. My tear-filled eyes sparkled with liberation rather than sadness.

The burden of anguish, guilt, and fury had been lifted; my demons could finally rest. I turned to face Saint, empowered and unafraid.

I stood resolute, gazing into his cloaked expression illuminated by the evening twilight. With each step he took towards me, I inhaled his woodsy cologne, his presence looming over me like a shadow.

‘Everyone out.’ With one commanding gesture, Saint dismissed all the men without another syllable uttered. I couldn’t help but keep my eyes glued on him, captivated by his indecipherable gaze. Suddenly, his eyes honed in on mine, and I shivered as I felt his power surge through me.

‘You’re breathtaking,’ he murmured as he tenderly caressed my blood-stained cheek. At that moment, I saw the pure, unadulterated magic in his eyes. A dark and intoxicating brew that left me dizzy with desire. ‘The way that blood looks on your face… stunning. I’m beyond honored to be your husband, and I’ll carry that pride with me beyond death. Hell, I’ll even brag to the demons about how an angelic beauty snared my soul without even setting foot in heaven.’ His words cut deeply into my heart, carving out a place for him that would never be filled by another.

I bit my lip, fixated on Saint with a passion that bordered on greed. He tilted his head, and his eyes roamed over every inch of me with a ravenous hunger that threatened to consume us both. In one swift movement, he crushed his lips to mine, hoisting me up with ease and pressing me against the wall. My legs wrapped instinctively around him, clinging to him like his ultimate prize.

As our bodies drew closer, a thrilling electric pulse ran through my skin.

Saint’s lips pressed against my neck, and I could feel the power and control emanating from his touch. Our worlds collided, the boundaries between us disintegrating like the seams of a garment. The bitter taste of degradation was transformed into something intoxicating as Saint worshipped me. The heat between us grew hotter, fueled by desire and lust.

His kiss was like a violent storm, taking over my senses and leaving me breathless. I was a willing victim, surrendering to his fierce and unforgiving embrace. My sins were like an invisible cloak, but he didn’t shy away from them. Instead, he worshipped me with every fiber of his being. ‘Look at them, Doe,’ he urged, trailing kisses down my neck. ‘Look at how much power and fucking control you have.’ Our worlds collided, merging into a single pulsating entity. The thought of him worshipping me, surrounded by those who had once mocked and humiliated me, fueled an intense heat deep within me.

‘You’re going to be the death of me, won’t you?’ he murmured, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. ‘Does it scare you?’ I ask ‘You know what? I couldn’t be happier about it.’ His laughter was light, but his eyes burned with a dangerous fire. ‘You scare me, but that’s what makes you so irresistible.’ He pauses. ‘And it fucking thrills me.’

As I lean in, a grin spreads across my face before I gently plant my lips on his. The energy between us ignites like a fireworks show, a glorious collision of passion that erupted like a supernova. His mouth was plush, inviting, and parted to receive my exploring tongue. Bodies flush against each other, we were a fiery inferno blazing against the wall. Our paced breathing, hot and rapid, only added to the intensity. I could taste our mingling breaths, and feel the pounding of our hearts in perfect sync. Finally, I reluctantly pulled away from our explosive embrace.

‘Good.’