Page 73 of Carved in Ruin

“This is the only cock you’ll ever know,” he says, the words hitting me as hard as his hips do. “Only I can make you feel like this. Only I bring you pleasure. Only I bring you pain,” he snarls, punctuating each sentence with a thrust that leaves no room for doubt.

My head falls back, a cry spilling from my lips as he drives me to the brink and beyond. “Only yours,” I manage, the words raw, breathless, as the orgasm tears through me.

He follows me a moment later, groaning my name like it’s a prayer, his release flooding into me. We didn’t use protection.

We don’t talk about it. We don’t acknowledge the risk, the way we’re tempting fate. I can’t think that far ahead—I can’t even think about tomorrow.

Right now, there’s only this: his body against mine. It drowns out everything else.

Thirty One

The Devil Kneels

Rafael

Arkadi told me everything.

The pictures. The cameras. The filthy obsession of a man who thought he could claimmywoman.

I told Arkadi to keep the body. I’m not done yet. A bullet in the head is too merciful. It’s not revenge. It’s not justice. Torture is too light a word for what I’m planning. Dismantling him piece by piece. He touched what’s mine, dared to invade her world, her innocence. He thought he had the right to want her, to watch her.

I’ll take that right from him along with his fingers, his tongue, and his manhood. He will come back from the dead just to beg me to stop.

I also ordered Arkadi to search everywhere for the footage that prick took of my Mila, and make sure they are so well erased it’s like they never even existed.

But this isn’t just about him.

Mila.

My Mila. She’s been through hell, and I wasn’t there to stop it. She’s hurting, and I can see it, feel it. It seeps out of her. I told Arkadi to plan a funeral for her mother—something small, something calm—so she can say goodbye. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough.

Last night I was a selfish bastard. I should’ve held her, comforted her, but when she came to me, when she pressed her body against mine, I took her. I didn’t stop to think about her pain or her grief. All I could think about was her skin under my hands, the way she trembled for me, the way she tasted when I kissed her.

She was the best I’ve ever had. Not just her body, buther.She’s mine in a way no one else has ever been. And now, after just one night, everything is upside down.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was filthy, raw,perfect.She gave herself to me, and I took everything she offered—and more. She’s in my blood now, in my veins, and no amount of violence will be enough to take her out of me.

I should feel guilty. I should hate myself for taking advantage of her when she wasn’t in the right state of mind. But I don’t. I can’t.

I don’t regret a second of it.

Nadia storms into my office, her heels clicking against the floor like a goddamn alarm. She doesn’t knock, and the second she screeches my title, my blood runs cold.

“Pakhan—” Her voice cracks, her hands on her knees, gasping for air like she sprinted through the house. She’s too old for this, and I’m too angry to care why she’s here until she blurts it out, tears streaking her face.

“It’s Mila,” she sobs. “You need to go to Mila. She’s in the bedroom—with a pistol. I—I’m afraid she doesn’t have good intentions.”

My heart plummets like a stone and everything around me blurs into nothing. I don’t hear Nadia crying. I don’t feel my legs moving as I brush past her, storming up the stairs.

What the hell is my Mila thinking?

I throw open the door to our bedroom, and there she is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the mirror. A pistol in her hand, pointed at her chest.

The sight stops me cold.

Her face is blank. No tears, no fear, just… nothing. But her hands are steady. Too steady. And I feel something rip open inside me.

Where the fuck did she find a gun? How long has she been planning this? Does she think I wouldn’t follow right after her?

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