Page 118 of The Beautiful Dead

His gaze flicked to my bloodied hands, to the corpse, then back to me. Something dark flashed in his eyes. Something wicked. Something beautifully broken.

Remi smirked, and for a moment, I could have sworn the shadows curled tighter around him, whispering secrets only he could hear. His monster stared back at me, hungry and waiting to be freed. “Always.”

We tore through the hallways like starving wolves set loose from their cage, leaving nothing but death and devastation in our wake. Guards died like sacrifices. More bodies than you could imagine littered the floors. None survived.

Blood soaked the walls, decorated our skin.

Remi was a nightmare incarnate, moving through the carnage with a blade in each hand, painting the walls with crimson, carving beauty from their ruin. I ripped, tore,annihilated. Bones crumbled beneath my fists. Joints snapped in my hands. I broke them apart like toys, their screams fueling the fire inside me.

Gunfire rang out, but we were faster. Deadlier. By the time we reached the basement, the house itself was bleeding. It became a nightmare of our creation; it wasn’t a battlefield. It had never been a fair fight. It’d been a massacre. A show of power.

Remi darted toward the shelves, fingers trailing over the supplies with methodical precision.

“What are you doing?” I asked, wiping the blade clean on a corpse.

He didn’t answer, just huffed a quiet laugh and grabbed a can of gasoline and one can of paint thinner.

My cock throbbed, aching to be buried inside him—to claim him, to ruin him. Watching him slaughter without mercy, I craved him. Needed to devour him, to drink the sadistic poison that coursed through his veins.

I leaned against the doorway, eyes locked on him, watching him move with something raw, something feral.

He was beautiful like this.

Dark. Vicious. Unapologetic.

The monster I always knew he could be.

For a moment, he hesitated and turned to me. Searching for something only I could offer him.

Approval? Permission? Worship?

I nodded. “We need to do all the floors.”

A slow, manic grin split his face. He gestured toward the remaining cans. “Grab those and do the top floors.” I nodded and trailed him up the stairs to the first floor. “Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. We’ll need to be fast,” he called, voice thick with anticipation.

When I returned, he was shoving aluminum foil and cutlery into the microwave, setting the timer. Turning on every gas burner. I fucking laughed Remi’s eyes danced with glee.

“I’ve always wanted to blow somewhere up.”

The air crackled—charged with destruction.

We slipped through the laundry room door just as the explosion tore through the house. Glass shattered. The ground heaved. Fire erupted, vicious and all-consuming, licking up the walls like a living, breathing beast.

Heat slammed into our backs, a violent embrace that sent us hurtling forward. We hit the ground hard, rolling across the grass, tangled in each other.

I caught him by the throat and dragged him into a filthy, brutal kiss. Teeth clashed. Blood smeared. His mouth opened under mine, a wrecked, desperate moan slipping free. My tongue tangled with his, swallowing it down.

I bit his lip, tasted copper, and claimed it. “That’s my boy,” I breathed against him.

Then we ran. Behind us, smoke billowed, thick and choking, curling into the night sky. The first explosion rocked the ground, a warning. The second devoured the house whole, flames swallowing it in a tidal wave of ruin.

No remains. No evidence. Nothing but fire and oblivion.

The gardens stretched before us, shadows bleeding into the trees. I caught his hand, yanked him with me, refusing to let him go.

The inferno raged, consuming everything, a reflection of the hunger twisting inside me. And as we vanished into the dark, into the night—I knew one thing for certain.

The world would burn before I ever let him go.

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