Page 35 of The Beautiful Dead

My father’s expression was unreadable—eyes black, shuttered, calculating. Brielle, though? She feigned shock, clutching her chest like adamsel in distress.But the second her gaze landed on me? That heat in her eyes—the same look she always gave me, sick and twisted—detonated the short fuse inside me.

In the blink of an eye, my hand was around her throat, pinning her to the wall. My blade kissed her stomach, pressing deep enough to make her breath hitch.

I leaned in, our faces millimeters apart, my voice a growl. “You’re not as smart as you think, Brielle.”

Her pupils blew wide. Her body trembled beneath my grip.

“You touch him,” I murmured, pressing the knife just a little harder, “and I’ll be the last thing you ever see.”

A high, hysterical laugh spilled from her lips, but it was laced with fear. “Y-you wouldn’t harm me.” Her voice wavered. Her eyes darted to my father. Seeking reassurance. Protection. She’d get neither. “Y-your father won’t allow it.”

I smirked. “Won’t he?”

Federico snorted. “You’re easily replaced, Brielle.” He adjusted his tie, barely sparing her a glance. “One whore is much the same as another.” Cold. Emotionless.

Brielle choked on a breath, indignation twisting her already panicked features. “Federico, call off your attack dog,” she rasped.

My fingers tightened around her throat, and I enjoyed the way her pale face started to turn blue. She was pathetic.Weak.The blade in my hand pressed deeper into her side, enough to break the skin and let the faint tang of copper fill the air. My father sat back, watching. Silent. Because he knew I wouldn’t kill her today. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t feed the monster inside me.

“Your days are numbered, Brielle.” I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. She was trembling now. I couldtastethe fear on her skin, sour and electric, and when I licked a slow line up the side of her face, she whimpered. “You won’t see me coming,” I whispered, my voice soft.

A choked noise caught in her throat.

“You’ll wake up one day chained in my playground.” My grip on her throat flexed, savoring the way her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my palm. “Left there for hours… until you’re begging for death.”

She gasped, her nails digging into my wrist in a weak attempt to free herself.

“But before I send you to hell…” I exhaled, my lips ghosting over her jaw. “You’ll watch Brock die at my hand.”

Her entire body seized.

I smiled against her skin. There it was. “Maybe I’ll even let my men have fun with him first,” I mused, dragging my knuckle down her sweat-slicked cheek. “They’ll ruin that tight little virgin ass, break him open until he bleeds, until his screams go hoarse.”

Her breath came in short, wheezing gasps.

“Then I’ll mirror it on the outside,” I murmured.

She tried to speak, but only garbled sounds escaped. “Y-you…s-sick…fuck,” she wheezed.

I grinned. Her pale blue eyes started to roll back, her body sagging, going limp in my hold.

Too far.

I let go.

She hit the floor like the useless sack of shit she was, her chest heaving as she sucked in desperate, ragged breaths.

“Leave,” I snapped.

She scrambled on all fours, clawing at the floor before hauling herself upright with the doorframe. She cast a final, desperate glance at my father. He didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. Didn’t care.

Then she turned to me, eyes burning with barely contained rage. A promise of retribution.

I just smirked and wiggled my fingers in a mock wave.

“Don’t make a mess on your way out.”

When the door slammed shut behind Brielle, the only trace of her left behind was the putrid stench of her floral perfume. Federico’s demeanor shifted. That cold, calculated ire turned on me.

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