Page 44 of Sinner's Malice

And I had ruined her.

Even now, I smirked at seeing the fading bruises as the darkness within me demanded I create new ones. My body betrayed me, wanting nothing more than to hear her cries of pleasure and pain, an anguished sonnet to soothe my soul.

No.

The best thing for her was if I stayed away.

It was the only way.

I didn’t know how it would all work out, but I couldn’t be around her and not want to punish her. She’d done nothing wrong. She never had. I was the one who needed to leave. The one with the damaged soul.

She was restless again.

Her brows furrowed when she coiled tightly under the covers, turning toward the camera. I could see the tension in her body, as if something bothered her. That’s when I saw a shadow move in her room.

Sitting up straighter, I focused on the screen. She bolted awake and her eyes looked directly at the camera. There was no fucking way she knew where I’d placed the camera, yet somehow, she knew.

Impossible.

The door to her room opened and I watched Montana enter.

He was talking to her.

I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could tell she didn’t want him in there with her. She hated being in an enclosed space with a man.

Any man. It didn’t matter.

It was one of her residual traumas she had never reconciled.

The longer he stayed, the more agitated she became.

Didn’t he see he was making her nervous?

Without thinking, I sent off a quick text.

I saw the second he got it, ‘cause his demeanor changed and he quickly left the room.

She looked up at the camera and smirked before she laid back down and went back to sleep. I monitored her for a little while longer before I closed the app and my phone rang.

Seeing the caller, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I’d been expecting his call for weeks now.

Fucker had been in the wind, evading the club for weeks, biding his time, waiting to strike. I knew it was only a matter of time before he reached out. Too bad for him. When I got my hands on him, I was going to kill him.

“We need to talk.”

“Then talk,” I replied flatly.

“I’ve got information Montana needs.”

“Listening.”

“Not over the phone.”

I said nothing.

If this fucker thought I would roll over and play right into his hand, he had another think coming. I really didn’t give a fuck if the son of a bitch lived or died. He could either say what he needed to now, or I would beat it out of him later.

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