Page 180 of The Beautiful Dead

Futile. I imagined the final form I’d leave him in, sculpting it in my mind like clay beneath my fingers.

An angel fallen from grace.

I’d carve his wings from his flesh, let them hang from his back like torn relics of something once divine. Then, I’d break them. Sever the tendons, expose the bone, let him drown in his blood, suffocating on his descent.

A tragic, biblical end for a man who thought himself untouchable.

The shift in the air was subtle, but I felt it like an electric charge along my spine. Domino. I knew before he even touched me—that weight, that presence, that tether pulling me into him. His warmth pressed against me from behind, arms snaking around my waist, pulling me against his body, the hard length of him resting against the curve of my ass.

My blood burned. Desire tangled with adrenaline, coiling tight inside me, sinking its teeth into my skin. But I couldn’t lose focus. Not yet.

This moment was too important.

My swan song.

The final piece of my old life before Domino and I became something else entirely.

“What do you need?” His lips ghosted over the shell of my ear, his voice low, deep, a vibration that sent a full-body shudder rolling through me.

“I need wire, hooks, and wire cutters.” My voice came out breathless, drunk on the scent of smoke, leather, and aged blood that clung to him. Domino smelled like death, and I wanted to drown in it.

He exhaled a quiet groan, pressing closer, his body firm, solid, mine. “You’re perfect,piccolo agnello.”

A hand drifted down from my waist, teasing over my hard length with barely-there touches, setting fire to my nerve endings. I groaned, turning into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling him like the sweetest poison.

Domino cupped my face, his thumbs smearing Casius’s blood over my cheekbones, dragging it down to my lips. “There.”

Then his mouth was on mine. Hot, searing, claiming. I whimpered when he pulled away, my lips chasing his, but he caught my chin, tilting my head back until my eyes met his. Dark green. Endless. Dangerous.

“Finish creating.” His voice was velvet over steel. Commanding. Absolute. Then he glanced at his phone. “We’ll have company soon.”

A spike of adrenaline cut through my desire, and I pulled back slightly, narrowing my eyes. “W-what do you mean?”

The corner of Domino’s mouth lifted, a slow, sinful smirk, blood drying on his lips. “I’m expecting a delivery.”

A shiver crawled down my spine, something dark and thrilling unfurling in my chest. I chewed my bottom lip, tasting copper. “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”

His grip on my chin tightened slightly, just enough to make my breath catch. “No.” That smirk deepened, his gaze burning through me, pulling me apart without a single touch. “I’m going to get you what you asked for, then leave you to it.”

His lips brushed over my forehead, a small, lingering kiss—a promise, a vow, a claim.

Then he was gone.

And I was left standing in the center of the gallery, blood at my feet, my masterpiece waiting to be made.

Once I started, the rest of the world faded away. The edges of my vision blackened, reality peeling like old paint. The murmur of movement—Domino somewhere nearby—was nothing more than a distant vibration, an echo against the walls of my untouchable bubble.

Nothing existed outside of this moment.

Outside of him.

Casius’s body lay still, limp, purged of life yet brimming with new purpose. He would be my greatest work. I exhaled softly, pressing my palm against his chest—not to feel a heartbeat, but to feel the silence. The absence. The void where something human had once existed.

I hummed under my breath, a quiet lullaby, before sliding my blade beneath his shirt and slicing it apart like paper beneath a scalpel. The fabric split, curling away in strips and falling into the blood pooling at my feet.

Then, I carved into his still-warm flesh.

Slow. Intentional. Devout.

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