Page 64 of Painter's Obsession

For Gabriela.

Lightning splits the sky, casting jagged shadows across the ground, and I push harder, my legs trembling as exhaustion claws at me. I glance behind me, heart hammering, but I see nothing.

No Ren.

And that terrifies me more.

The sound of the rain drowns out everything except the blood pounding in my ears. I try to focus, to pinpoint my truck’s location, but everything looks the same, endless and disorienting. My lungs scream for air as my legs falter, and I hit the ground hard, mud squelching beneath me.

“Get up,” I whisper to myself, my voice trembling with fear. “For her.”

I force my body to move, my limbs shaking as I push up, but then I hear it.

A low whistle.

The sound cuts through the storm, sharp and deliberate. My head snaps up, and lightning illuminates the clearing behind me.

He’s there.

Ren stands at the edge of the trees, his figure shrouded in shadow, but his eyes—those onyx orbs—burn through the darkness like fire. In his hand, he holds something sleek and ominous. A gun.

“At least try to make this challenging Byron,” his voice calls out, smooth and taunting, carried effortlessly through the storm.“Or do you want me to catch you? Is that it, my Thorn just needed to be caught by the big bad wolf.”

Thunder crashes, and before I can react, a sharp sting pierces my neck.

I slap a hand to the spot, trembling fingers finding a dart. I rip it free, but it’s too late. The world tilts and warps around me as the drug invades my system, dragging me down like quicksand.

“Run,” Ren’s voice commands, closer now, the amusement in his tone making my stomach churn.

My legs move instinctively, driven by fear, but they’re heavy, sluggish. The trees seem alive, their gnarled limbs stretching toward me like claws, snagging my skin and clothes.

The thick tree in the clearing comes into view, a beacon of hope, and relief surges through me. My truck must be close.

I push harder, each step a desperate plea for freedom. My breath tears from my throat in gasps as I reach the clearing.

But it’s empty.

No truck. No salvation. No freedom.

Clapping. Slow, deliberate, mocking.

“Good job,” Ren’s voice cuts through the storm, smooth and dripping with contempt. “You managed to get nowhere… and piss me off all at the same time.”

I whirl around, slipping in the mud, and there he is, standing at the edge of the clearing. Rain slicks his body, highlighting the sharp lines of his face and the dark ink decorating his chest.

“On your knees,” he commands, the gun in his hand gleaming under the lightning.

I hesitate, and the butt of the gun slams into my temple, sending me sprawling into the mud. Pain explodes in my skull as my knees sink into the wet earth.

“That’s a good pet,” Ren sneers, circling me like a predator savoring its kill. “On his knees for his master. Running toward safety, weren’t you? Thought you could escape?”

I glare up at him, hatred burning in my chest, but the humiliation cuts deeper.

“But there’s no safety, Thorn. No escape. Only me.”

His hand moves to his groin, stroking himself with slow, deliberate motions. My eyes catch the ink just above his groin.“Rotten Pieces.”

“Suck my dick like Gabriela’s life depends on it,” he says, his voice low and venomous. “Show me you’re sorry,” another slow stroke of his cock. “Show me you’re mine to break and rebuild.”

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