Page 47 of Psycho Killers

"Swallow it, Calista. Fucking swallow all of it, and don't let me catch you wasting a damn drop." I bite my bottom lip and give my hips a few more pumps, feeling her throat constricting around me as she swallows, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

Once I'm finished and can tell she's swallowed all my cum, I let her nose go and wipe the tears away from her rosy cheeks, helping her up from the uncomfortable floor where her knees were digging into the wood. I tug her into my embrace and capture her lips, tasting myself on her tongue as I give her the first kiss of the day.

If today goes anything like this morning, I can tell we're going to have a good fucking day.

TWENTY-TWO

DEPRAVED

SWING LIFE AWAY: RISE AGAINST

CALISTA

The vibrations of the bike work tirelessly to soothe my nerves as I ride alongside Killian down Main Street. But my black riding gloves do little to keep my hands warm or dry. I can feel the dampness creeping into the leather, pooling beneath my fingers. As if triggered by a chain reaction, my mouth goes dry, and an unwelcome rush of heat floods through me with every side street we pass.

I keep my grip on the throttle, treating it as my best friend tonight, even though I have one riding beside me, of course with no hands. Lowering my chest toward the handlebars, the wind howls around me, tangling my hair into wild knots and making my helmet rattle against my skull.

Despite the music blaring in my helmet and the dark sky looming over me, a knot of sickness twists in my stomach, clouding my focus and pushing any hope of gaining a grip on reality further away. My heart races as we close in on our destination, yet I press the bike to its limits, the wind nearly threatening to unseat me.

In a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of Killian, his head shaking in disbelief. I know he’s worried about me. He’s probably also contemplating pulling over to check if I'm okay. I shake my head, gliding past him, desperate to meld with the beckoning darkness, yearning to toss my worries into the void and plunge into the shadows that have haunted me throughout my life.

Riding solo now, I weave in and out of lanes on the open highway, the growl of Killian's bike inching closer behind me. It doesn’t take him long to catch up, and when he does, he zooms past me, performing a wheelie that momentarily elevates him into the night before he's swallowed by the darkness.

My thighs grip the seat as I straighten up, raising my arms overhead, welcoming the darkness that has claimed Killian. No longer does my heart pound; instead, it settles into calm, rhythmic thumps, the wind around me a soothing balm. Freedom is just around the bend, waiting with open arms.

When we finally coast off the exit ramp and ride for about five more minutes, I pull in behind Killian in the back lot of a bar, just a block from my parents' house. In an instant, my anxiety cripples me again. I take my time removing my helmet, avoiding Killian's penetrating gaze that seems to bore into my back.

"You sure you’re okay?" he asks, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around my waist, letting them rest comfortably against my hips.

"I'm fine. Let’s just get this done," I mutter, slowly pulling off my gloves.

He spins me around, cupping my face in his hands and tilting my head back so our eyes meet. "Why do you think you can lie to me and get away with it?" he asks, smiling, though a seriousness lingers in his gaze.

"Kill—"

"Nah, I know you’re not fine, Cali. I know you want this to be over with. So why keep putting it off? If you want your parents gone, then just fucking do it. Let’s make it happen tonight."

All I can do is shake my head, fully aware it’s not nearly as simple as he suggests. Knowing my parents, they’ll be on high alert. I can’t just waltz in guns blazing. I step back from him, glaring while rolling my eyes, struggling to keep my temper in check. But it’s a fucking challenge.

"I don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other side of that door, Kill. This is why we do the groundwork before a job—to avoid getting killed by rushing in without a plan. Yes, I want them fucking gone, but it has to be meticulously thought out and executed."

I lower my head and sweep my hair into a messy bun on the top, feeling the cool breeze brush against the back of my neck, where Five's name is etched into my skin. I run my fingers over it, wiping away the sweat as images of him fill my mind, soothing my temper.

Each of the guys in my life serves a unique purpose, carving out distinct roles. Five has always had the power to calm me, even in the most chaotic moments. He proved that from the very first time we met, when he found me curled up, hugging my knees in a shadowy corner of his bedroom. Since then, he’s become my grounding force.

Ash supports every decision I make, whether wise or reckless. His influence looms large in my life, and I find myself following him without question, unsure if it’s a blessing or a curse—but I do it anyway.

Killian, in his own way, acts as my therapist. He understands me better than I understand myself; he can talk me off any ledge with just a few words. He knows what goes on inside my head and precisely what my body—and my heart—needs. He knows how to handle me both in the streets and in the sheets.

Then there’s Dom, a complex presence. He’s always been someone I can share anything with, and the bond we have rekindles as if we’ve never been apart, no matter how much time passes.

I can’t choose just one of them. Each holds a special place in my heart, playing a crucial role in my life. Without even one of them, everything could unravel. The balance would be disrupted, and I wouldn’t know how to navigate the chaos that is my life.

"Get out of your fucking head, Cali," Killian urges, his deep voice yanking me back to reality. "We have a job to do, and if you’re trapped in your thoughts, the chances of something going sideways go up."

"I fucking know," I snap before I offer a small smile, nodding, and start walking down the sidewalk toward my parents' house, wiping my damp hands on my jeans, bracing myself for what awaits.

As I approach the front door, I pull my pocket knife out and open it, my hand tightly gripping the comforting steel. The familiar weight of dread settles over my chest like thick fog. I pause, casting a glance back at Killian, who's leaning against the iron gate with an expression that’s equal parts concern and impatience. I take a breath, reminding myself that this is it—the moment I’ve been building up to for years. If I want to break free, there’s no turning back now.

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