Page 430 of Rage

The Torment That Scared Me

By: Mira Raven

Chapter One

Echo

Every time I kill a man I can’t help but fall in love even more with the silence that comes after he gives his last breath. The whole process is a symphony, it starts with them whimpering and begging, negotiating for something they know deep down I’d never offer. Then comes the crescendo, the screaming, the cursing, the crying, and the wailing. And then, it’s just the sweet silence.

And dear Larry makes no exception. Larry, who hit his wife for the last time tonight. Larry, who screamed at his seven-year-old to fuck off one last time a couple of hours ago. Larry, whose blood is now pooling at my feet, staining my Loubutins.Fuck Larry. That makes me hate you even more.

Wiping my shoes on his shirt and stepping on his back, I start walking towards my husband. Ian is looking at me from across the room with a look that says he’s as proud as ever when he sees me murdering someone.

“Stepping on corpses is beneath you, baby.”

“And flattery won’t win you extra points, Ian Beckett.” I smile when I reach him, grabbing his collar and kissing his cheek. “Besides, we both know the only man alive who deserves to feel my heel pressing on his skin is you.”

He stays silent, giving me the smile that sent shivers down my spine the first time I saw him. It’s not only mesmerizing, but there’s a cruelty in it that everyone can see, but only a few people perceive. And while it’s terrifying to see what hides behind the mask, I can only consider myself incredibly lucky. Honored, even. Honored that I got to witness the horrendous things my husband is capable of while feeling more protected than ever.

Flipping me around and pushing my back against the wall, Ian gets closer. Closer, closer, and closer until I can feel his breath on my neck, his inhales and exhales as accelerated as ever when he can barely hold himself together. I know he’s hanging by a thread every time we kill a man. Because he constantly fears that somehow I’ll end up being that man’s victim. I only wish he would realize there’s no reality where that could happen. Not only because I’m sure he would give his own life to protect me, not only because we always work together and outnumber our targets, but also because I would never leave him or our children.

The only death I wish for is the one of all abusers in the world. And if I could live forever and make my family immortal, I would do it in a second just to have the chance to spend eternity and forever surrounded by them.

“Take me home, Ian,” I say breathlessly. “Please, just take me home.”

“I want to take you right now, Echo Whitlock.” He bites the skin of my neck, the sound of it tearing making me even wetter. “I want to take you, break you so I could put you back together for the millionth time just to remind you who owns you, and whom you own.”

“Ian—”

“No.” He cuts me off. “You know we can’t go home until we get rid of the body, and I’m not sure I can last that much longer without feeling your cum dripping from my skin.”

It takes him no more than a couple of seconds to lift my skirt, push my panties to the side, and make me moan loudly when he shoves two fingers inside me and starts moving them in a come-hither motion. His thumb is pressing on my clit, massaging it in circles, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“Don’t, pretty girl,” Ian says in a threatening voice. “Let those greens see what I do to you. Let them see how I can make your perfect pussy soak my fingers and how I can make you scream my name over.” He gives me a hard thrust. “And over.” Another one. “And over again.”

“I love how well you know me,” I whisper, barely able to make the words come out. “I love how you know exactly how to touch me, and how to fuck me so you can make me come all over you.”

“Then be a good girl and show me.” His hand starts moving even faster, the pressure he applies on my clit becoming too much to be able to hold back.

I come screaming his name from the top of my lungs looking into the blue eyes that have been holding my soul captive for more than six years. My whole body is shaking and my knees are close to giving in, especially since seeing my husband licking my cum off his fingers is an image that will always drive me insane.

“Ian,” I swallow. “I need us to get rid of Larry and go home.”

“Of course, baby,” he says, kissing my forehead. “Do you miss the kids that much?”

His question gives me pause. Because I know the answer to it, yet I’m not comfortable admitting it out loud. But if there is one thing I know Ian Beckett would do is judge me. And not only I hate lying to him, I don’t see a reason to. Not now, not ever. He earned my loyalty and my trust time and time again, and I don’t think we would’ve been where we are today if we were nothing but truthful.

“I do miss them,” I say in a tentative voice, looking into his eyes. “But I—” I hesitate, nodding to reassure myself. “I miss feeling you inside me in our bed more.” Tears are flooding my eyes and my chin is shaking when I ask my own question. “Does that make me a bad mother, Ian?”

He takes a step back, frowning and looking at me from head to toes. I feel so vulnerable, so exposed, so liable to be judged and broken. I know my husband loves me, I do. I know he would move Heaven and Earth to make me happy, no matter if that translates to buying me flowers on a rainy day or helping me kill a man. I know all of that, but my children, my relationship with them, and the one with their father is something that I feel very conflicted about.

“You’re the best mother to ever haunt this world, Echo Beckett.” His voice reverberates in the empty storage room, making me feel like his words are searing into my eardrums. “Our children love you with everything they are, not because they’re conditioned to do that. It’s because they know how lucky they are to have you as a parent.”

Clearing my throat, I wrap my hair in a ponytail, looking into his eyes when I continue.

“And I love them. With every particle of my body, baby. I am absolutely and insanely obsessed with all three of them.” I take a deep breath, blowing my cheeks and letting the air out before resuming. “But I don’t want them to hate me when they grow up because I want to spend time with their father and not them.”

“Pretty girl,” he cups my face, rubbing his thumbs over my cheeks, “they will be functional adultsbecauseyou want to spend time with their father. They’re learning love, a healthy definition of it, not the one we grew up with. And this way neither Noah, nor Corbin, nor Hayden will ever tolerate the behaviours we used to tolerate.”

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