Page 158 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

The wind carries the scent of pine from the inland forests, mingling with the ocean spray. Beneath me, the wooden deck vibrates slightly with each powerful wave that crashes against the rocks below. Above, stars wheel in a midnight sky, uncountable and ancient.

I close my eyes, letting their combined strength seep into me.

I’m not alone. I’m not alone. I’m not alone.

But even with them beside me, the ghosts of my past hover in the corners of my mind, waiting for the quiet to return.

“Trauma’s an asshole,” Hank mutters, not tome, but rather to Gabe. His voice rumbles through his chest, where my head rests against him.

I drag in a slow breath. “I don’t want to think anymore. I can’t take it.” My voice is thinner now, almost brittle.

I reach for Gabe with sudden desperation, fingers grasping at his wrist. I pull him toward me, guiding his hand between my thighs with unmistakable intent.

“Make me forget,” I whisper, the words torn from somewhere primal and raw. “Please, I need… I need to not be in my head right now.” My eyes lock with his, silently pleading. “Make me feel something else. Anything else.”

Gabe shifts closer, his arm curling around my shoulders, his weight stabilizing as he studies my face with an intensity that strips away pretense.

His eyes flick over my shoulder, meeting Hank’s gaze. The complexity of their dynamic extends beyond me, a language of subtle cues developed over years.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Gabe asks, his voice deliberately controlled, each word measured and precise. “Tell me exactly what you need from me right now.”

My fingers tighten on his wrist, desperation clawing at my insides. “Drive the demons away,” I whisper, the words raw and unfiltered. “I need what only you can give.”

The implication hangs in the air—dangerous, forbidden. Something that skirts the edges of consent and blurs the lines between pain and pleasure, control and surrender.

Hank’s breath catches, his body tensing slightly against my back. The silence stretches like something alive—not heavy but charged.

Gabe’s hand shifts, his thumb smoothing over my jaw, tipping my face toward him. The movement is achingly unhurried, almost reverent.

“We will drive those demons away.” His voice dips, rich with promise and patience, and cuts through the chaos like a knife. There’s an edge beneath the softness, a glimpse of the darkness he keeps carefully leashed except in his most intimate moments. “But not like this. Not when your mind is fighting you.”

The knot in my chest tightens, but it’s not fear—it’s surrender. A terrifying kind of freedom that threatens to unravel me entirely.

He holds my gaze, unflinching. “I know what you’re asking me for,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing my skin. “You think if I take control—really take it—you can outrun whatever’s chasing you. If I push hard enough, make it hurt, the demons will go quiet.”

His jaw tightens, and something flickers in his eyes—need, restraint, regret. “You know I want that with you. The darkness. The surrender. I want you in my playroom. I want you because you need it the same way I need you.”

His thumb presses against my jaw, holding me still, the moment taut with everything he’s barely holding back.

My breath hitches, but it’s not fear. It’s not panic. It’s the gravity of him—the truth laid bare, unvarnished and unafraid. His darkness should terrify me… but it doesn’t. It grounds me and pulls at me.

“But this?” His voice slices through the quiet, sharp, and sure. “This isn’t about me. Not right now. This is you, panicking, spiraling, and trying to escape. One of the burdens of holding power—is knowing when to step back. When to slow things down. When to stop, even when every part of me aches to take you there.”

My fingers tighten on his wrist, clinging—not out of desperation now, but as an anchor. My pulse no longer hammers; it pounds steady, a rhythm syncing to his voice, his control.

He leans in, his breath washing over my lips, dominance pressing down—not with force, but truth. “When I take you into that darkness—and I will—when you gift me your surrender, it won’t be because you’re running from something. It’ll be because you’re ready to face my darkness. Because you come to me, begging for it. Because you ache to suffer and serve—not to numb the pain, but to feed something inside both of us.”

His words settle over me like a weighted blanket, not crushing—soothing. My skin no longer feels like a trap.

My thoughts no longer claw for escape.

His hand shifts, thumb brushing my lip with almost reverent restraint. “Until then, I wait. Because your needs,your healing, matter more than my indulgence. I can live without unleashing my sadism. You can’t live shackled by trauma.”

Hank’s hand strokes slowly down my back, his palm firm, grounding. “You’re not alone in this, luv.” His voice is low, certain, and laced with command. “Not with us. Never with us.”

His presence behind me—solid and unyielding—pulls me deeper into the moment, tethering me not just to now but to them.

Gabe’s darkness.

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