Page 17 of Obsession

I shake my head again. “Nope. They’ll just increase security. What I did was callous. I didn’t think it through. I just fucked a whole community of women for vengeance on behalf of two people who didn’t ask for it.”

Cyrus slaps me on the back. “That’s how you know someone matters. When you’ll burn it all down for them. You don’t need to fuckin’ save everyone. You never will, no matter how hard you try. There’s a lot of fuckin’ evil in the world. Azadeh already contacted The Sinners about The Covenant. Max, Alexis, and Mikhail know about this piece of shit cult and what they do to women and children. Don’t worry, bro, those fuckers will make sure it’s all burned down.”

I nod. If anyone can take down these pieces of shit, it’s those three men. They were also born into a heaping pile of shit, forged by the Russian Mafia and forced to endure endless purgatory. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

CHAPTER 12

Margarete

The church told me that physical bliss was evil, tempting me away from the righteous path of God. Every time I allowed Hans to touch my body in the past, the insufferable weight of guilt and shame bore down on me.

But this time, it’s different. Hans’ touch doesn’t evoke impending doom. His soft lips release a rush of exaltation as they brush against my flesh. The reverence and peace the church should inspire finally wash over me, but it’s twisted, a perverse echo because this touch belongs to Hans—a man I was told to view as a brother but only saw as a lover.

“Hans.” I breathe his name into the safety of the morning stillness. Here, I’m not worried about judgment. In this silent refuge, I can leave behind my upbringing and become who I am.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

I turn on the bed, and we stare at each other like we did when we were kids and needed comfort from our fucked up lives.

“Is something wrong with my body? Is there a reason you don’t want to, you know, go all the way?”

“Maggie, you’re so beautiful that it hurts to look at you sometimes. Gazing at you is like feeling the sun on a frigid winter day. You dissolve the pain and heartache and dispel the coldness in my heart. No, sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with you. Your body is the only temple I’ve ever known. Touching you is the closest thing to paradise.”

“Then why did you stop last night?”

Hans turns onto his back and scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to do this, okay? I’m petrified of fucking everything up. Nothing in this world is more frightening than you hating me.”

I rise off the bed and straddle him. My hands move to his hair, fingers slipping through the soft strands. “Look at me.” Hans’ eyes bore into mine. “No. I want you to look at my body.”

Slowly, his gaze roams my body, landing on my exposed chest.

I cradle one breast in my hand, presenting it to him. “When we were in that prison, forced to follow arbitrary rules and hide everything we felt or thought, the only thing that kept me going was the way you looked at me. Now that I’m in a strange world, surrounded by the unfamiliar, you don’t get to abandon me. Touch me, Hans. Connect with me in all the ways they labeled as sinful. Burn for me, and let me incinerate for you.”

Hans grips my waist, adjusting my body before he lifts his head. He peers into my eyes, leans forward, parts his lips, and draws my nipple into his mouth.

I hold him to me as he sucks my nipple between his warm lips. He’s still holding back, his teeth bared a fraction, careful not to nip my flesh. I don’t want him to treat me like spun glass, scaredthat if he says or does the wrong thing, I’ll shatter into a million pieces. Being seen as weak is something I never want.

I need to take the plunge, fully immerse myself in the experience of life, or I’ll never truly grasp the breadth and depth of the truth. Is self-exploration scary? Yes. Could this destroy every fiber of who we believe we are? Also, yes. But a life lived in deceit is not a life lived.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” he admits.

“You don’t need to hold back. I won’t hate you, Hans. I could never hate you, but I need to know you. We need to explore who we are without the chains of The Covenant. You’ve been a shield for me my whole life, and now I need you to remove the armor and show me the entire man. Don’t hide from me.”

“He’s not holding back, Maggie.”

Heart pounding, I shove Hans away, my eyes locking on Xander as he stands menacingly by the door. I don’t know how he sneaked in so quietly or why we didn’t hear a sound.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice shaking.

Xander says nothing. He steps closer, and my eyes widen at the sight of him. He’s covered in blood, his mask drenched in crimson. He looks like a nightmare from a children's story. “I want to be here.”

I can barely form coherent words, but not from fear. It’s from curiosity. “What happened to you?”

I jolt when Xander throws something on the corner of the bed. I lean forward to inspect it, and horror grips me. It’s a severed hand.

“What the fuck is this?” Hans demands.

Xander shoves his bomber jacket off and places it on a hook on the wall. Then he strips off his gun holster before removing his shirt. “Your dad’s hand.”

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