Page 38 of Monstrous Grave

He never died. For years, he’s been in the same town as me without my knowledge. Why didn’t he find me sooner?

Amidst my inner turmoil, I’m anchored to the spot, his eyes roaming over my body as if he can’t get enough. His shirtless form is illuminated by the descending sun outside, chest adorned with tattoos. One stands out—an A—and he catches me staring at it, speechless. Another bears the García family’s mark, while the rest hold significance only to him.

A pang of longing pierces me, and despite sitting before me, he feels a hundred miles away. Years of brutality have led me to this moment: facing the one who inflicted the greatest torment. For years, I sought revenge for his abandonment, but now my world is tilted on its axis.

How do I move on from this? I can’t simply dismiss everything we’ve endured together. A part of me yearns for him, craving him after being deprived for so long. I hate it.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” I ask, my despair vaguely hidden.

After hours of sharing our stories, we’re both emotionally and physically drained. We’ve both faced hardships, but I’m unsure if I can ever truly move past this.

I want to. Oh, do I want to. But can I give myself to him? The way he looks at me suggests I may not have a choice. I don’t know if I should flee again or stay grounded. Perhaps I secretly enjoy the chase.

After a tense silence, he finally responds. “They threatened to harm you if I didn’t comply. You’re my weakness, and they exploited it. It wasn’t until Louis García’s death and my ascension to the throne that I gained the freedom to do whatever I wanted. But don’t worry, I never left your side.”

His words leave me stunned, and before I can reply, he interrupts, eyes hardened and chest heaving.

“I couldn’t shake you from my thoughts, and it was driving me mad!”

Suddenly, he’s on his feet, prowling toward me. I step back, feeling like prey before the predator. He’s always been the one I fear, yet it’s an emotion that ignites a primal heat between my legs.

Before I can process what’s happening, he pins me against the wall with a choking hold.

“Fucking make it stop!” he roars, squeezing harder as I claw at his hand, and yet I feel my lower stomach tingling, drenching my panties.

I remain silent as he pauses, lost in thought. My pulse races as he guides me to a table, pressing me against its surface. I can’t understand his plans.

“Please, Viper. Let’s talk about it,” I plead.

“There’s no talking about it,” he mutters. “I was gone for five goddamn years, and I’ll never get them back. But I have to make amends.”

Reaching for the chains I hadn’t noticed beside the table, he secures my wrists to the table legs, the metallic clinks echoing in the room whilst my back is pressed against the surface. I gasp as he cuts through my panties with a knife, a twisted glint in his eyes. At the sight of the knife, I fight against the restraints while grasping for any semblance of control.

“There’s no running, little sister.”

“The Valentis will know I’m gone!” I insist, hoping to sway his resolve.

“The Valentis are pieces of shit, unworthy of anyone’s trust in the underworld. They’re outcasts with no allies.”

“That’s not true,” I argue, desperation clutching my tone.

“Don’t trust any family in Penumbra Crest. We need to find and destroy the drive to ensure our survival. Understand?”

Uncertainty clouds my judgment. How can I trust him after all this time? Yet, deep down, my soul draws to his in ways it never has with anyone else. It used to be us against everything else, and a part of me longs for that connection again.

When I don’t instantly respond to his subtle question, his hand strikes my breast, causing me to gasp from the unexpected sensation. A cruel smirk dances across his lips as he admires every inch of me, keeping me cuffed and vulnerable.

The cold air brushes my exposed pussy, sending a tremor through me as he unfastens his belt. I stifle the rising panic as he cuts open my shirt with his knife, wondering about his motives.

He tosses aside the torn fabric, and the frigid blade delicately tears through my flesh, blood coating my skin, reminiscent of what he did to my shoulder blade. I quiver against the cool touch of metal. The sensation of being laid open like this overwhelms me, leaving me flushed, especially as he grabs the knife and licks it clean, just as he did with the gun.

“So beautiful, all chained up for your brother’s mercy,” he groans, removing his belt, pants, and boxers, his cock springing free, adorned with two piercings at the top. With the blade pressed against my nipple, I tremble as he glides it gently across my chest to the other, hardening both buds as I lay on top of the table.

He stands between my legs, and I want to close them for protection, but they’re locked up. He leans down, his breath teasing my folds, making my pussy crave his touch.

“Why do you think I’ll work with you again after this?” I ask.

“Because you want revenge just as much as I do for their abandonment,” he grits out as if the thought itself physically pains him.

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