“Deal,” I say, extending my pinky toward her while my fingers cross on my other hand.
She hesitates but smiles faintly as she hooks her pinky around mine, sealing our unspoken pact. I nod, internally swearing to myself that I’ll protect her no matter what it takes, even if it costs me my life. We dart back toward the main road, the din of the club fading into the background as we push forward into the path of darkness that leads us to her apartment. Walking side by side, I can feel the connection between us grow stronger with each step.
After everything that’s happened, I know she’s not just a job to me anymore; she’s part of the mission, but she’s also becomea reason worth fighting for. I won't let darkness eclipse us. Not fucking tonight—not fucking ever.
seventeen
reality
Raze (“Havoc”)
Hypnotized: Plies, Akon
The first snowfall catches me off guard, descending softly in the stillness of night and leaving a delicate, shimmering white blanket over Boston. I exhale, rubbing my hands together, captivated by the way my breath mingles with the cold air. The distant noise from the street—cars colliding and horns blaring—gradually fades as I fix my gaze on Whitney, who sleeps peacefully in her bed. I inch closer to the balcony door, insertingthe key into the lock with care, slipping inside as snowflakes scatter across her floor.
Conscious of Dustin's watchful presence—he's always fucking lurking—I draw the curtains shut, even though I know it won’t truly shield us. He'llalwaysfind a way to fucking manipulate every part of Whitney’s heart and soul. I bring my Glock to her bedside, tucking it under the pillow before shedding my cold, damp coat and sliding into bed beside her. The moment my icy fingers graze her midriff, she jolts awake, bolting upright in alarm, her wide eyes searching the dark room. Slowly, the fear in her gaze begins to fade as she locks her eyes onto mine. I draw her closer, pressing her against me and holding her waist for comfort.
“Raze, what are you doing here?” She murmurs sleepily, rubbing her heavy eyes.
“That’s a silly question; I’m always here whether you realize it or not,” I chuckle, flashing a seductive wink that brings a soft smile to her plump, dry lips.
Her smile melts away the chill in me, even warming my fucking heart. Yet, a sharp pain lingers, striking deep for reasons I can’t explain. Sensing my worry, she sits up, brushing her palm against my cheek and leaning her forehead against mine with a sigh.
“What’s bothering you?” She whispers, almost so softly that I might have missed it, but unfortunately, I didn’t.
“Just a lot on my mind lately,” I confess, my breath coming in heavy bursts as I feel like I might explode. And then, it all comes rushing out like vomit, and I can't seem to stop it. “Hawk’s been worrying me; he’s struggling with his mental health more than ever. I know you’re going through hell with King, and it makes my stomach fucking churn thinking about what he wants you to do. And I’m fucking scared, Whit—scared that Dustin will strikeat any moment; I have no idea what he’s plotting. I feel so damn vulnerable.”
She rises from the bed, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the window seat beside the balcony door, where the snow falls gracefully, twinkling like diamonds in the light. I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder while she leans back, her nails trailing softly along my arm—an intimacy that feels surprisingly relaxing.
“Ireallywant you,” she whispers, changing the subject, her gaze unwavering from the snow as her nails dig into my forearms.
“Ialwaysfucking want you,” I growl in her ear, reaching into my pocket to pull out my new knife.
Holding it up to the moonlight streaming in through the window, I can feel her body tense with a mix of excitement and apprehension. My tongue teases her earlobe, and my warm breath sends shivers through her.
“See the size of the handle?” I remark, my fingers gliding over the sleek blade.
With a swift movement, I hurl the knife toward the window seat, where the razor-sharp blade embeds almost entirely into the wood. The smooth handle glints as it stands proudly, Whitney’s eyes captivated by it.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, her throat dryer than moments ago.
“Because I want you to fucking ride it while I fuck you from behind… up against the window sohecan watch,” I reply, tugging her silky pajama shorts down, leaving her half-naked against me.
“Who, Dustin?”
“Exactly,” I smirk, stripping off my shirt and pushing my pants down, watching as she sheds her shirt, letting it fall to her feet.
Grabbing a handful of her hair, I guide her closer to the window, marveling as she straddles the knife handle, glancing back at me over her shoulder. I stroke myself, pausing occasionally to spit in my hand and wipe it along her pussy, making sure she’s ready for me.
“Don’t be shy, Little Mischief. Enjoy the knife,” I grin, continuing to stroke as I watch her lift one leg and kneel on the seat, positioning the tip of the handle over her eager entrance, sinking down with her eyes locked intensely on mine.
I let her ride the knife handle for a few minutes while I fist my cock to the sight. It’s when she turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder, her mouth parting as she moans, rubbing her clit, that I propel forward, tugging her against my body, my hand on her lower back. Slowly, I ease inside her ass, feeling her tight muscles suck me in and grip my cock like a vice.
"Jesus," I pant in her ear as we find a perfect rhythm, our hands pressed against the glass in front of us.
I thrust again into her ass, her body shaking in ecstasy. She bounces on my knife and moans my name out loud, and it's like music to my fucking ears. I wrap my hand around her throat and drag my tongue up the side of her neck, my eyes heavily fixated on the window, desperately searching for signs of Dustin, and it doesn't take long to spot a reflection of his red laser he always has pointed on Whitney's bedroom window—I flash a smile in his direction, knowing how much it'll piss him off.
I still fuck her, taking every inch of her that I can as she continues riding the handle and leaning back against me, her hands desperately clawing at my hips as she reaches behind her to pull me even closer. She smiles, licking her lips and making me shiver as I bite my lip. All of our problems melt away with each thrust, surging us deeper into a world of make-believe, where suffering isn't even in the fucking vocabulary. It's just me and her, and no one else can come in between us, not anymore.The way Whitney moans my name brings me ecstasy one moment, but the reminder of Dustin sends a shiver down my spine the next, sharpening my instincts. I shove a hand beneath her chin, tilting her face toward mine.
