Page 54 of Whispers of Ruin

“And to think, all that time you wasted with Julian and his participation-trophy dick.”

His fingers drift lazily over my hip, possessive even in their tenderness.

“Don’t worry, Mira… I’ll make sure you never forget what love is supposed to feel like.”

The aftermath is something to relish. There is nothing quite like lying next to your partner, lighting a cigarette, and letting the world fall away as we both sink into the post-coital silence.

The smoke curls up, filling the space, and for a moment, it’s just us—no words—just pure satisfaction. But tonight, the usual peace I crave after is nowhere to be found, thanks to that bitch, who is slowly bleeding out at the foot of the bed.

I turn to Mira as she sits up to run my fingers gently down her bare back. The calm that should be ours feels tainted; the stillness of the room filled with the faint sound of Julian’s struggle.

Goosebumps rise on Mira’s skin, and I cannot help but imagine how her breast must look from his vantage point, the thought of it filling me with a burning rage that I can barely keep contained. I grab my hoodie and drape it over her shoulders. She remains still, her eyes glued to her ex-lover, mind clearly elsewhere. I can see it in the way her brow furrows, how she is caught in a tornado of doubt. I cannot blame her—it is a lot totake in. But there is no going back now. Not when we are this far gone.

“You know he’s getting exactly what he deserves, don’t you?” I ask Mira calmly, yet authoritatively. “My approach may be harsh, though it is far from unjustified.”

I see her gaze drop to the floor.

“You’re not doing anything to him he did not bring upon himself. He’s a fucking loser. You deserve nothing less than the best, little fox.”

Her body shivers increasingly and after a moment of reluctance, she gets up. I stay quiet, letting her take the lead, my eyes tracing every movement she makes. Julian’s gaze widens, a mix of fear and anticipation hanging, wondering what is coming next.

She stands beside him; her figure looming over like a silent executioner. The knife gleams in her hand, a dangerous reflection of her determination. Swiftly, she pulls off the tape, the sound of it tearing through the room. There is a subtle tremor in her fingers as she places the blade just close enough to remind him of the power she now holds. Julian’s eyes widen with distress. Sadly for him, there is no mercy in hers—just cold, controlled resolve.

“Please, Mira, stop! I’m… I’m sorry! I swear, I didn’t mean it! Don’t… don’t do this—it’s not who you are!”

His words come out in a frantic rush, each one dripping with the desperation of a man who is aware he is spiraling down. His eyes are darting between her and the blade, a flicker of agonyas he tries to cling to any shred of hope. Mira’s laughter erupts, jagged and manic, as her voice quivers with fury.

“Not who I am? You don’t know a fucking thing about me!” she spits, her words like daggers aimed at him. “You never gave a damn to figure out who I really was. Maybe if I had a goddamn dollar sign branded on my forehead, you would have bothered to listen!”

Her chest heaves with rage, and her grip on the knife tightens, as if it is the only thing keeping her tethered to some semblance of control. Her eyes blaze with a fire born of years of resentment as she takes a step closer. Despite everything, I cannot help but get hard again, the intensity of Mira’s wrath almost makes me forget the gravity of what we are doing.

Seeing her like this, taking the reign of her own destiny, her skin glistening with sweat, her wild red hair tumbling in disarray, naked and unrestrained—not once I have seen anything so beautiful. She radiates a newfound strength, reborn right here and now, and I am truly captivated—pulled toward her in ways I never expected.

With every word she spits, my body stiffens, the tension coursing through my legs and I am compelled beyond reason, I seize the primal surge that consumes me. I massage my cock with intense fervor, veins straining under the pressure, pulsing like a wild heartbeat.

“You always shoved me aside, like I was some fucking afterthought. You always had something more important. Well, guess what? I’m done being your second choice.”

I watch her, spellbound, as she hovers over him—Julian, strapped down, powerless, reduced to nothing more than a whimpering heap at her feet.

There is no escape for him. No mercy coming.

Only her.

Fuck, I have seen nothing more feral, more perfect.

Julian thrashes weakly against the restraints, his wrists already bleeding. His voice cracks from crying.

“I was scared, Mira!” he croaks out, desperate. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know how to—”

“You didn’t know how to treat a human being, you mean,” she cuts him off coldly. “You didn’t know how to love something unless it stayed quiet and easy to manage.”

He shakes his head violently, choking on his own panic.

“I loved you! I did—I swear—”

“You loved theideaof me,” she spits. “You loved what you could use. You loved how easy it was to make me feel like nothing.”

She crouches down and I can see the moment Julian realizes she is not just talking anymore—she’s choosing.

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