Page 18 of Deviant

It’s taken a lot of effort to get to this point. A lot of work on my part.

And while on some level, I’ve known how this would end, how God would favour me, it’s more than satisfying to watch as she’s dragged into the church and thrown at our feet. My eyes dart to Anthony. The prick is openly glaring at me but then, who can blame him? Nobody likes to lose, do they? And when the prize is as delicious as this one, well, let’s just say he’ll be nursing those wounds for quite a while.

They’ve bound her arms, stuffed some fabric into her mouth, no doubt to silence the obscenities spewing from those pretty lips.

But even now, even in defeat, she’s still putting up a fight.

I stay back, watching, observing, seeing as the others battle her.

And battle it is. The bitch refuses to kowtow. I could almost admire her for it, but such antics won’t go down well with my colleagues and though I’ve already brokered a deal, it’s a fractious one, I need to tread carefully, play the game, and this bitch is ruining everything.

“Someone’s been sniffing around where they don’t belong.” Seth says, jabbing her with his foot.

She jerks back, but he’s quick to grab her hair and wrench her head back into a nearly impossible angle.

As her clothes are cut away and that delicious body beneath is revealed, I’ll admit my mouth waters just a little at the prospect of how I’m going to mould that perfect flesh, how I’m going to mark it, maim it, bruise it, and make every inch of her mine.

But I’m clearly not the only one to appreciate her.

It’s Anthony who grabs her breast, kneading it between his pudgy hands as she grimaces. I’m not a jealous man, in fact I’d go so far as to say I enjoy sharing my toys—but only when the occasion is right, and only when I decide to do so.

Besides, I won the race, who the fuck does he think he is taking such liberties?

I glare at him, and he meets my gaze with what I know is a smirk under that mask.

If he wants to play this game that’s fine. He can have his moment now, he can take this tiny gift, but in the not too distant future he will pay a high price for insulting me.

I take a step, then another, closing the distance a little and ensuring no one else fucks with what is mine.

On some level I expected her to plead, to beg, to turn into a pitiful, pathetic mess, but she does none of that. Oh, she’s shocked enough when she spots Ronin’s body dangling from the rafters, but there’s still defiance in her eyes, beautiful, angry, raging fury.

It takes all I have not to fuck her right here and I can feel my blood pumping, urging me to do it.

Seth pulls a gun, points it at her head, signalling my moment to act because this to, like everything else has been predetermined.

“The Brethren does not forgive. The Brethren does not forget,” he states.

“Blow her fucking head off…”

“Wait,” I say, knowing that’s exactly what they will do. That I’m the one pulling the strings here, just like always.

The men around me pause. Seth knows the real game here, a few of the others may be oblivious, but they’re followers, sheep, they’ll do as they’re told and seeing as I outrank them, they won’t dare to challenge me.

“The crime was against me, was it not?” I state.

“It was against all of the Brethren.” Seth replies.

That may be true on some level but the stories she had, the expose focuses heavily on me. I could almost be flattered at the amount of time she’s devoted to studying me.

Don’t worry, pet, that attention will all be reciprocated in due course.

Almost lazily, I pull some of the papers, making a show of flicking through them like this isn’t a done deal. “Most of this is about me, about my activities.”

“What does it matter?” Quentin says. He’s always been one with no imagination, no manners either. That’s what makes him such a good little soldier, he follows orders well enough without the brains to ever consider questioning them. Too bad I can’t just declare what this really is and skip this entire charade all together.

“It matters,” I say, “because I want my own justice.”

My eyes meet hers as I finish that sentence, and for a second, for the briefest, most beautiful moment I do see a sliver of fear, and then that fury comes rushing back.

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