Before I ask how he knows all this information, the mansion’s lights go dark, sinking the house into shadow.
“That’s our cue,” he says, reaching down to grab his axe resting between his legs. The blade glints faintly as his gloved fingers curl around the handle.
“Wait,” I exclaim, my hand shooting out to rest on his bicep and he calmly side-eyes me. “How do you know all this stuff, Ty?”
He lets out a deep sigh, sitting back slightly. “The dad had a logo embroidered on his suit that night. For his company. I searched it up online, found him on social media and because they’re fucking fools, like most of the world, they put their entire lives online. Showing off their perfect, shiny lives and their precious fucking wealth.”
My stomach sinks as his words settle over me. The sharp edge of his intelligence is just as terrifying as his animalistic strength.
“It took me an hour,” he continues. “A simple fucking hour to find out everything I needed—where the little boy goes to school, his parents’ routines, their weekly schedules. They made it that fucking easy for me.”
The sheer ease of how he pieced together these strangers’ lives feels surreal, invasive—and yet, in this case, justified. Forthe little boy’s sake. That’s why I’m here, I remind myself. Because of him.
“They made it that easy for you,” I murmur.
“People like that always do, my beautiful girl,” he replies, his eyes fixed on the house. “They’re too arrogant to think anyone would dare come for them.”
He glances over at me again, his expression softening, but only slightly. “That’s why I told you, freckles. This world’s not fair. The good don’t always win. But sometimes, the bad get what’s fucking coming to them.”
I nod slowly, our eyes locked in a silent challenge, as tension coils tighter between us. I shift, kneeling on my seat, leaning into him, and bringing my palm to the side of his neck. My fingers trace the back of his hair as I press my lips to his. The kiss starts soft, but the intensity between us erupts like a spark to gasoline.
As our lips part, his tongue slides into my mouth with a possessive hunger. A moan escapes me only to be met by his growl rumbling down my throat. His arm wraps around my back with sudden force, yanking me onto his lap with dominance. My heart races as his lips devour mine, rough and urgent, like he’s pulling the air from my lungs.
His other hand moves swiftly, shoving my thighs apart, then I feel the heat of his touch as his gloved fingers cup my pussy over my sweatpants. A fire ignites deep in my core, spreading fast and I instinctively try to close my legs against the pleasure, but it’s useless as he continues to rub me out, pressing his fingers firmly down on my clit.
My gasp against his lips is shaky as I whisper, “I’m on my…”
“Even better,” he snarls as his wild gaze holds mine, but before I can even protest, he swings the car door open.
Cold rain lashes inside, sharp against my hoodie, and before I can even think to scream, his gloved hand clamps firmly over my mouth.
“Time to be a quiet little kitten for me until we’re finished. Then, I’m gonna have you screaming for hours.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. My body moves before my mind catches up, stepping out of the car into the storm. Rain crashes down, soaking me instantly, the cold seeping through my clothes and chilling me to the bone.
Behind me, Ty follows, then the car door is shut quietly. My hood falls forward as I lower my head, trying to shield myself, then I feel his grip around my hand. His gloved fingers wrap around mine as he drags me into his world—into what’s about to happen.
My legs move on autopilot as he leads me across the yard, the rain-soaked grass squelching beneath my boots. His silhouette cuts through the storm ahead of me and his axe glints faintly in his other hand.
We move around the side of the mansion, sticking close to the walls and my pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out everything else as we approach the back patio doors.
Without hesitation, Ty presses a gloved hand against the glass, sliding the door open as if he owns the place. My stomach churns as I step inside after him, water dripping from my clothes onto the polished floor. The stupidity of it strikes me—how someone could leave their home so exposed, so vulnerable.
Do they truly believe they’re invincible? The thought makes my gut churn, anger simmering briefly beneath the fear.
Inside, the mansion feels hollow and the rain outside starts to fade into the background, replaced by the soft hum of the houseitself. My wet clothes cling to my skin, cold and uncomfortable, but the chill from the storm is nothing compared to the icy dread that is starting to run through my veins.
I glance at Ty, his face is now covered, his figure moving with lethal grace as he steps deeper into the shadows. There’s no hesitation in him, no second-guessing. Every step he takes feels ready, and I know there’s no turning back now.
The house is overwhelming in its extravagance—whites, golds, and marble stretch out in every direction, exuding wealth and privilege as if it’s all designed to broadcast their untouchable status. My gaze catches on a row of photos lining the wall as we move past them and that little boy’s eyes in the pictures seem to follow mine, innocent and wide.
We reach the base of the grand staircase, its polished rail gleaming even in the dim light. Our footsteps barely make a sound as we climb. When we reach the top, something cuts through the stillness—a muffled sound from down the hall. My heart stutters, and Ty’s clutch on my hand becomes firmer.
We exchange a glance, but he’s already pulling me toward the noise, his movements more slower now. The sound grows louder as we approach, no longer just muffled but unmistakably human—rhythmic, intimate. My stomach churns, bile rising as the hallway opens before us, showing a set of double doors at the far end that are wide open.
As we edge closer, the scene comes into view. The bedroom is massive, with a huge bed dominating the center. She’s on top of him, her back to us, her naked body glistening under the soft glow of the massive chandelier. Her body moves up and down as she rides him, his tattooed hands digging into her waist. Her moans echo through the space, each sound sharper than the last.
Revulsion clutches me harder. This fucking house, this picture-perfect couple with their fake images of wealth and happiness—they don’t care about the lives they’ve ruined. About the lives they’ve destroyed.