Page 16 of Monstrous Grave

What the fuck is going on? Ever since I began preparing for this heist, mysterious things have happened. It’s as if I’m descending into madness, my sanity slipping away once again.

Have the rivaling families found out about our little tryst and plans? Do they know about the USB drive I’m going to steal?

The lingering feeling of someone watching me remains.

Then, my phone pings with two incoming messages. One is an image, the other a text. My heart rate spikes up as I load the former, nearly bursting in half when the scene is displayed on the screen.

It appears to be a man clad in uniform, skin once vibrant yet now a pallid hue, draining away by the grip of solitude. Rigor mortis has settled in, leaving a stiffness in the limbs that are unyielding in an unnatural position. Nausea burns my throat as I look at the person, recognizing the carved flesh on his chest, the crooked letters A.V.

Hours later, his body appears more decayed, frozen in a position revealing a tortuous fate, skin wrinkling in death.

My eyes fixate on the Grimaldis’ emblem, its letters a beacon, both inviting and dangerous, like a predator luring its prey in the night.

This can’t be true. Alec got rid of the body.

Then why does it look as if it’s at the Grimaldis’ dock? I’d recognize that place anywhere—a place me and him used to play hide-and-seek when we were too bored with following our father around the dock while he dealt with shipments.

My breath constricts the moment I feel the trembling in my hands, opening the next message from the unknown sender—a warning that threatens to expose the entire heist and my involvement in it.

UNKNOWN: Fail to meet me again, and the next thing you’ll see is his severed head on their doorstep. Perhaps my little angel would like to be exposed to the wolves for her treachery instead. And you know damn well how malevolent the Grimaldis are.

Chapter 7

Who am I?

I guess you’ll never know

Even in the dead of the night, I watch her. A silent shadow hiding amongst others, becoming one with the obscuring darkness slowly seeping through my corrupted soul, silently waiting for the right moment to strike so I can take and conquer.

Soon, it’s my time to finally own her soul and mind completely.

She’s a pawn in a game beyond our godforsaken town’s comprehension, oblivious to the looming danger and the horrors unfolding behind her, hiding in the shadows much like myself. Yet, unlike me, those horrors are veiled behind a theater curtain, as if this were merely a staged play captivating the public.

The unsettling problem is that no one fucking comprehends the full magnitude of Penumbra Crest, and the insidious corruption embedded within the five ruling families. Once, I might have cared about the innocent civilians caught amidst the crossfire, but now? I couldn’t care less, not after so many people lied to me. Countless articles have fabricated tales about me, spewing bullshit unworthy of my attention.

I might be ruthless with no fucks to give, but I’m not heartless.

The night is beautifully laid before me like a secret whisper sending soothing words of tranquility. The moon hangs in the sky, casting its silver-like glow through the windows and enveloping the room in scattered shadows.

Hidden in the shadows, I fixate on her slumbering form—so beautiful yet so tainted and twisted. She’s got spunk in her, evident in how she punctured the tire of my bike a while back when I was merely observing her from afar. I can’t deny that witnessing her vulnerability didn’t stir something primal within me, waking my cock to life from the sheer violence.

Her platinum locks cascade over the pillow beside her, framing her face as she rests on her stomach, arms hugging the pillow beneath her head. One arm holds a tattoo of a butterfly splattered in water while simultaneously drowning in it.

I allow my gaze to roam her form, every curve and contour calling to my desire. Clad in nothing but an oversized T-shirt, her figure is both alluring and achingly exposed, the fabric riddled up against her stomach and revealing her little panties.

Approaching the bed where she lies, my hand involuntarily reaches out to stroke her cheek. She stirs but does not awaken. A side glance toward the nightstand reveals the empty glass, its contents fully drained. My deed went unnoticed, the sleeping pill seamlessly dissolving in the water to erase all evidence.

She’s so easy to hurt like this, and the need to mark her as mine thrums through me like the deadliest drug, ready to consume every rational thought. With a knife in my leather-gloved hand, I trace a delicate line along her shoulder, pressing just enough to break the surface of her vulnerable skin. The sharp sting of the blade draws forth a crimson shade that makes desire flood my veins. Serves her right for puncturing my R1 bike. A hiss escapes between gritted teeth as the agonizing arousal coils deep within me. With my free hand, I apply pressure to the throbbing outline of my cock, squeezing painfully hard.

The need to inflict more pain makes me push the knife deeper into her skin, slicing a straight line, not enough to scar permanently but deep enough to coax forth trickles of blood down her shoulder blade. It’s intoxicating to observe how it smears her back, leaving her so fucking vulnerable and at my mercy.

Satisfaction floods my being, and I feel my cock pressing against the zipper of my jeans. She whimpers softly in her sleep, eyes fluttering, but she remains oblivious to what I’m up to. The arousal pulsating through my soul is barely manageable anymore, forcing me to take action as I put the knife in my pocket before swiftly unzipping my pants to take out my cock. A groan escapes my lips as I stroke the hardened length, watching her sleeping so peacefully like a little lamb, unaware of the predator beside her.

With each movement of my hand, a rush of euphoria floods my senses while I grit my teeth, taking in every curve and those goddamn panties. Carefully, I grab the hem of the fabric, slowly dragging it down her legs. I can’t help but fist her panties around my cock, my hips instinctively rocking against my hand. Fuck. My imagination runs wild, thinking about all the ways I want to devour her.

But it’s not time yet—not until she learns about who I am, and about the predator lurking beneath the surface, waiting to own her.

She will wish she never met me while kneeling before me, submitting to the one predator she never should have surrendered to.

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