A broken growl rips from his throat—my name twisted into something rough and sacred—as he spills inside me, claiming me in the most primal, possessive way a mancan. He stays there, chest pressed to my back, breath hot against my neck, one hand gripping my hip like a tether.
We don’t move.
Can’t.
The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing and the faint creak of the mattress beneath us.
Slowly, his grip softens. He pulls out carefully, a low growl in his throat like he’s reluctant to leave me, even for a second. I collapse into the bed, boneless and trembling, my body still humming from everything he just gave me—and took from me.
A moment passes, then the mattress dips beside me again.
Thor stretches out next to me, his warmth instantly blanketing mine. One heavy arm drapes over my waist, possessive even in the quiet. His face finds its way into my hair, and for a long beat, we just breathe.
Slow. Uneven. Real.
“That wasn’t exactly how I planned this conversation going,” he murmurs.
His thumb traces slow, lazy circles on my hip—gentle now, like the violence in him has burned off, but the need to keep me close hasn’t gone anywhere.
And even though my body’s still wrecked, my heart cracks wide open at the presence of him beside me.
Because for all the brutal ways he claims me—It’s moments like this that truly ruin me.
“Are you complaining?” I turn my head to look at him. His expression has shifted, something softer now. Calmer.
“Fuck no.” A faint smile curves his lips.
Then a dull thud breaks the silence, followed by a faint, muffled sound. My body stiffens. Reality slams back into place. The man Terrance sent after me is downstairs. And he's not alone.
Thor feels the change in me instantly. He lets out a low, dark sound, “Guess we’re about to find out just how soundproof the basement really is.”
My stomach knots. The bliss of the last few minutes evaporates, replaced by a storm of dread.
“What are they doing to him?”
“Probably just getting started.” Thor’s tone is casual, almost bored, “V’s got a vivid imagination. Ratchet’s methodical. Between the two of them, he’ll talk.”
Another thud. Then a sharp sound—maybe a shout, maybe a plea. I shiver, even though Thor’s body is still wrapped around mine radiating heat like a furnace.
“You don’t have to listen to this,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow to study me. “We can leave the room.”
“No.” The word comes out steady. Stronger than I expected. “I need to hear what they find out.”
I’ve lived too long with fear as my shadow. If this is the price of taking my life back, I’ll pay it.
“You sure?” he asks. “It won’t be pretty.”
“Nothing about this is.”
Another scream echoes from the basement. Raw. Panicked. Muffled by walls that suddenly feel too thin. I don’t flinch. I don’t look away.
Thor watches me for a beat, then nods and settles back beside me. His hand finds mine, rough fingers lacing through mine.
We lay in silence, skin slick, breath slowing.
The man who once owned my fear is screaming beneath our feet.
And for the first time in years, I feel like I’m holding the power.
