“Let’s see how you like being vulnerable,” I growl, my voice low and menacing as I tower over him. My body aches with the need for retribution, and I know simply hurting him won’t be enough. He needs to understand the gravity of his actions.
“Please,” Deacon moans weakly, his eyes fluttering open as he starts to regain consciousness. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean…”
“Save it,” I snap, cutting him off before he can finish his pathetic excuse.
“You’re going to pay for what you did.” I grab him by the shirt and drag him to the center of the basement where the pulley is. He tries to scramble away when my order rushes over him. Pathetic, he’s weaker than an Omega.
He freezes, and I grab a rope, tying his hands before pulling them above his head and attaching them to the pulley. Hitting the button on the wall, he is hoisted until his feet no longer touch the floor. However, I need to figure out what I am going to tell Cleo. No doubt she will question how she got here,also her boyfriend’s whereabouts when he is suddenly missing, vanished without a trace.
Walking over to the table where the tools are, I find a dirty rag one of the painters left last time they were here. I turn back to him, and he whimpers, begging and pleading.
I stuff the rag in his mouth and secure it with duct tape.
“Can’t have your screams waking my girl now, can I?”
His eyes widen, and I crack my neck, and Deacon starts sobbing.
“I wasn’t planning on going to the gym today. You’ve changed my mind,” I tell him right before my fist connects with his sternum.
As I stand in front of Deacon, a sense of cold fury washes over me. The memory of finding him attempting to violate my mate, in her vulnerable state, fuels the rage within me. My clenched fist collides with his sternum again, the sound of the impact echoing in the basement. His body jerks with the force, a muffled cry escaping through the gag.
Each punch I land is a release, a physical manifestation of the anger boiling in my veins. My knuckles meet his flesh with brutal precision, leaving behind a blossoming map of bruises and swelling. Deacon’s eyes, wide with fear and pain, flicker with the dawning realization of his grave mistake. He struggles weakly against the restraints, his futile attempts only adding fuel to my rage.
I pause for a moment, my chest heaving, as I watch his battered form swing slightly from the pulley. I lost control, and he is no longer breathing. I look down at my hand where his heart now rests, the satisfaction of seeing him helpless, paying for his heinous act, courses through me.
Glancing around the basement, my eyes land on the chest freezer tucked in the corner. It’s large enough, a temporary solution to hide Deacon’s body until I can deal with it properly.With a grunt, I lower him to the ground and untie his hands. His body is limp, a dead weight, as I drag him across the floor. The scrape of his body against the concrete floor fills the room as I haul him to the freezer.
Lifting him is a task, his body an unwieldy burden in my arms. With a heave, I hoist him up and over the rim of the freezer, his body landing with a dull thud against the icy interior. I slam the lid shut, the sound a final note in this dark, quiet room. The freezer will preserve him until I can dispose of him permanently, ensuring no trace of him is left to be found.
Turning away from the freezer, my thoughts immediately return to Cleo. My heart aches at the thought of her in pain, her trust violated in the worst way possible. I need to be with her, to ensure her safety and comfort. With one last look at the sealed freezer, I make my way back upstairs, my mind already focusing on Cleo.
As I ascend the stairs, each step brings me closer to her, to the woman who has unwittingly become the center of my world. My mate. My responsibility. My priority. And no one will dare touch her once I make her mine.
Chapter 4
• Cleo •
The sun blazes through the curtains, burning my skin to a crisp as I jerk up from my slumber. Where am I? A violent headache has taken over my body, and I groan in pain. Squinting against the bright light, memories of last night flicker in my mind – some of which are very hazy.
I groan in pain as my head throbs more. I scrunch my eyes shut against the light and rub them, trying to remember what happened. Finally, I open them and my gaze darts around the large room, searching for a familiar face. Eventually, they land on him, standing by the window, looking out into the cityscape. His hair is wet, looking as though he recently showered. A pair of gray sweatpants clings to his frame.
Confusion bubbles inside me as I glance down at my unfamiliar clothing. It’s not mine or Lydia’s. My fingers nervously graze the fabric before I shift my gaze back to him, no longer able to contain my curiosity or anger.
“Did we...?” The words almost die on my lips, but I say enough to make him understand. He shoots me a wicked smirk before his expression softens into seriousness. An uncomfortable tension hangs in the air. Anxiety surges inside me as dread begins to fill my veins.
“Wait, you are being serious?” he laughs, and I glower at him. His laughter only grows louder.
“Trust me, if we did, you wouldn’t be questioning if we had.” A hint of amusement laces his tone.
I want to look away. Instead, my gaze lingers on his face. His expression is unreadable, and he seems to be lost in thought.
I take a deep breath before speaking up again. “Well, someone’s got tickets on themselves,” I retort and immediately regret it when his face hardens.
“No, I’ve seen every inch of you, Cleo,” he spits angrily. “I know exactly the damage I would have caused you had I helped myself to your body.” My face heats as I tug the shirt down, trying to cover myself up more.
It’s then that realization starts to fill me—this isn’t just some small mistake, this could have been a lot worse than what it already is, and it scares me deeply.
He must sense my fear because suddenly, his expression softens, and he crosses his arms over his massive chest, causing the muscles to ripple beneath his skin.
