Page 49 of Servitude to Serpents

I stop squeezing the warm water over her shoulders. I let the sponge drop into the tub as my hand finds the back of her neck gently, slowly making her eyes go wide with fear. “Because you’re mine.” I whisper the words against her cheek, trailing my lips to her neck. “There's nothing of you I don’t own,pet. Your life, your cunt…” I press a kiss to the underside of her gentle jaw, feeling the way she’s shaking. “Your future and your fucking damage.”

“Please… I’ll tell you anything—”

“I have no interest in half of a story.”

“This is—”

“I don’tneedthe number, Pup. It simply makes Stuart's job easier.”

I want to know if she’ll give it to me, how far my pet will bend.

With a steadying breath, she recites the number almost robotically, her fear such a tangible thing, I can almost taste it. The unease in my chest loosens, because in the blink of an eye, everything is how it should be. Sheshouldlook at me like this, terrified and uncertain. I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, letting my tongue dip out to taste her lips.

“Good dog. Get yourself dried off. You’ll take breakfast in my office while I’m on a conference call.”

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself like a barrier as I leave.

My breath comes easier as I walk toward my bedroom. That knot she tied and weaved in ribbons around my chest is slowly loosening until it flutters to my feet. There are no allies, no comfort to be had here.

For either of us.

Chapter twenty

To own is to… Idolize

Warrick Age 31

The blood dripping from my knuckles chills before it leaves my skin, my mind numb to the chaos around me. This situation isn’t new, not by a long shot. I’ve been here before, staring at the bloody and gored bodies of fallen men. Only, I can’t stop seeingher, how angry she’d be, how she’d cry. I always hated it when my mother cried, I think because she simply did so much of it. The man’s collar I was gripping finally slumps to the ground, sounds of fighting echoing in the hanger.

And my father…

His face is a muddled mess of bits and bone. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but the very first time on an infallible man. I haven’t reached anger yet, but I can feel it somewhere there. It took a few days after my mother killed herself for me to find the anger too, but only brief moments for my ignorant seventeen-year-old brain to realize it was her when I pulled her out of the cold bath, her head having sank under the bloody water. She was nude; I had no reason to think she wasn’tjust another of Dad’s whores he played too hard with. She was in their wing, anyway. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her like this, naked. And like those other times, the burn of vomit rises in my throat.

I saw her limp form and recognized the wrongness of it. What I hadn’t expected was therelief. No more would she sneak into my bed, sobbing while she kissed my neck. Her vile whispering. Her declarations of devotion and love. The way she’d fondle my cock in the dark then cry and run when it got hard. When my father decided the best way to deal with her instability was to ignore it, I became the surrogate husband, the rock she leaned on in all manners. I think that’s when I started hating them, the whores. It's when they stopped being people and devolved into objects, pets I could play with, mutilate, fuck, and ignore.

My eyes slide to the lifeless bodies of the FBI and ATF agents scattered around my father, my ears ringing from the sudden burst of gunfire. It was a simple weapons trade. Tyet confirmed everything was moving forward as it should this morning. It was all fucking vetted. Everything was fine.

I jolt, my eyes leaving the empty ones of my father when stomping boots approach me, jerking back the action on my handgun despite the screaming ache in my knuckles, broken against anyone I could grab quick enough. I shove the barrel into the man stupid enough to run up on me. My finger is already on the trigger before I recognize him. Stuart slaps the gun out of his face, his eyes wild. “We need to get you out of here!”

His inky black hair is peppered with gray; I’d never noticed it before. Growing up, this man always seemed just as infallible as his best friend, the one who lies blasted on the pavement.

I shake my head. “We need to get him.”

“No! He’s done. There are more on the way, and this time, they’re going to win. Get in the car, sir.”

I shove off him, only to fist his body armor. “We aren’t fucking leaving him!” I bellow, daring him to do shit. Anything. Any reason to finally get to the anger part.

The pain registers first, blood bursting from my nose before the realization thatStuart slapped me registers. I stagger back. “You fuck!”

“I will not allow you to die beside your father! We can make this right, Warrick, but you have to fucking think. It’s only us left. We have no ammo, no men. We have no fucking chance, not like this.”

The blades of the helicopter finally cut through the ringing in my ears as he jerks me toward the open hatch, all but shoving me inside. The red and blue lights reflect off the black exterior as he slides into the pilot seat, pulling us into the night right before all hell breaks loose.

Again.

Stuart barges into the study, my reading glasses slipping down my nose as I lift my eyes from the book I was struggling to pay attention to.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

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