Page 70 of Deviant

I kneel down, glaring at her as I take her hand. How fucking dare she? How fucking dare she think she has the power to make such a decision? Her death belongs to me. She has no right to claim it before I’ve decided it’s time.

I yank the gag from her mouth, tossing it away.

Something wet soaks into my clothes, the hand that I’m holding feels slick, sticky. I glance down and realise it’s blood. She’s bleeding heavily.

I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by that fact, after all, she did throw herself out of a window, didn’t she? She must have a thousand cuts and slices from the broken glass.

But the amount of blood… it’s too much. Too much to simply be a graze.

I turn her over, ignoring her pitiful cries of pain. She did this to herself after all, she deserves to damn well suffer for it.

My hands run all over her, feeling for hurts, and then I stop as I find the wound I’ve been searching for.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It’s on her other arm and it’s deep, very fucking deep and it runs all the way up from her wrist, creating a cavernous split through her flesh. The stupid bitch has probably severed an artery.

She lets out a gurgle, like she’s actually enjoying my fury and as I meet her eyes, she holds up a piece of jagged glass and that tells me everything I needed to know. That it was intentional. She did it. She cut herself open. She tried to end this.

I raise my hand, smacking her hard across the face because how fucking dare she? She has no rights, she has no autonomy.

As she lies dazed, I shout out, demanding someone get me a damned doctor, or a surgeon, or someone to deal with this. I’m not just going to let her die. Not here. Not under her terms.

No, Liliana is mine, every part of her is mine, even her death belongs to me and it will be at my choosing, exactly how I plan it out and execute it.

With my hands, I tear at my shirt, ripping the fabric into a usable strip and I wrap it around her upper arm like a tourniquet, trying to cut off the circulation and stem the flow. Behind me I can hear the sound of more bodies approaching, but I don’t have time to wait.

I scoop her up, holding her so that her head is resting against my chest, and I carry her back past the shocked, gawping faces. I don’t give a damn what they think, I don’t give two shits.

But I’m not losing my favourite toy, not like this.

Down in the basement there’s a medical bay. As I storm in, a doctor meets me, his face screwed up in concern.

And he should be.

He should be very fucking concerned.

A nurse lays her out on the gurney, and she starts to fight like she’s using the very last of her strength to ensure she gets her way. But she’s not winning this. Not today. I won’t let her beat me.

I push past, holding her down, pinning her broken body as she screams, and I force her to comply. It’s impressive that someone so close to death is still so able to fight, but then, Liliana was never one to back down, and right now she’s got everything to lose.

“Sedate her.” I snarl over my shoulder and as soon as her body goes limp, the pressure seems to ease.

When I let go, I can see the marks where my hands dug into her flesh. Where the livid bruising matches the cuts and tears like a pattern across her skin.

“She’s lost a lot of blood.” the doctor says like I’m some sort of idiot.

“Fix her.” I reply keeping my gaze on her. They’re putting in some sort of fluids, no doubt because they can see how malnourished she is. Someone else walks in with a bag of blood and hangs it on a separate hook.

“She’s in a bad way,” the doctor continues. “I’ll do my best…”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because my hand wraps around his throat and I put my face right up into his. “You will fix her. You will save her. Because if she dies, so do you. I’ll rip the damn flesh off your bones, do you hear me?”

He gulps, stumbling back as I release him.

“There, there,” Conrad says as he saunters in like this is some sort of circus. “I’m sure your precious toy will be just fine.”

I roll my eyes glaring at my brother. Clearly, he doesn’t understand the enormity of the situation. I’ve hurt her, raped her, beat her, tortured her in the most delicious ways I can imagine and yet, my dear pet has never once given in. Oh, her body may have surrendered. Her body may have betrayed her but her mind, no, her mind has still refused me.

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