“Saxon!” I shout.
I’m running through all the rooms I’d usually find her, but she’s nowhere to be found. Beni checks the rest of the house, but there’s no sign of her there either. We both meet back in the living room.
“Andrea and Giuseppe said they haven’t seen anyone,” he tells me. “Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”
“Then where the fuck is she?” I growl.
Beni runs a hand through his hair as he glances around, and freezes when he looks into the backyard. “Kage.”
Turning my attention to the back door, my heart sinks when I notice the shed door is cracked open.
The two of us sprint full speed out the back door and across the yard, and when I yank open the door, my eyes widen as they take in the scene in front of me. Saxon stands in the middle of the small room, covered from head to toe in blood, but it’s not her own. The Bratva rat is behind her, barely clinging to life as cuts and stab wounds cover his entire body. Even one of his ears lies on the floor.
“S?”
I speak softly, like if my tone is too loud, it’ll set her off, but she doesn’t answer me. It doesn’t seem like she realizes I’m here. She just stands there, staring at her own work as if it’s the most mesmerizing thing she’s ever seen—stuck in a daze.
Carefully, I reach forward and remove the knife from her grasp. After handing it to Beni, I walk around until I’m standing in front of her. Even her face is covered in his blood, and when I put my hands on her cheeks, she finally looks at me.
“Are you okay?”
She blinks up at me—once, twice, three times. And then, to the surprise of Beni and myself, she starts to laugh. It’s not her usual giggle though—no. This one is much more sinister.
I pick her up, ignoring the blood that is seeping onto my clothes. As I carry her out of the shed, I stop to speak to Beni.
“Finish him off,” I order. “Then get rid of him.”
“You’ve got it, Boss,” he answers.
Saxon is practically weightless as I carry her through the house and into the master bathroom. I lock the door behind us and stand her in the middle of the room while I turn on the shower. Once the water is hot enough, I slowly lead her into the shower, our clothes be damned.
The stream rains down on her, rinsing the blood from the top down. She closes her eyes and leans her head back. After a few seconds, her eyes shoot back open and she inhales deeply. Her breathing becomes labored, but not in a way that says she’s in trouble. It’s in a way that says she’s alive.
She grips at my shirt, as if I’m her lifeline. My hand comes up and rests on the wall behind her. I’m towering over her small figure, and when she looks up at me, I know exactly what she needs.
One by one, I strip away each article of her clothing, tossing them into the corner of the shower. Saxon struggles with my shirt, the adrenaline making her hands tremble. In one move, I rip it open and hear the buttons ping as they hit the wall. My cock springs free as I push my pants down and kick them away. I grab Saxon’s waist and pick her up, pinning her against the shower wall and slowly lowering her onto me.
Feeling myself inside her again, my balls immediately contract with the need to come. It’s everything it always was and so much fucking more. But she needs this more than I do.
Pressing my lips to hers, she moans into my mouth, but I can tell she’s holding back.
I break the kiss and pull away just slightly, moving to her ear. “Take it out on me.”
And goddamn, she does.
Her nails dig into my back hard enough to draw blood as she pulls me toward her and pushes me away all at the same time. Bringing a hand to my face, she grips my chin and kisses me with such force, I’m sure both our lips will be bruised by the morning.
“Lay on the floor,” she demands.
I do as she says, but give her a warning look. “Remember, you’re still healing.”
She rolls her eyes, straddling me and lowering herself back on my dick. “Treat me like I’m fragile and I’ll find someone who won’t.”
Within a second, I’ve got my hand wrapped around her throat. “You think what you did out in the shed was brutal? Do that and watch what becomes of someone.”
The corner of her mouth raises as she gets exactly the reaction she was looking for. Throwing her head back, she starts to ride my dick like she needs it to survive. Her tits bounce, and I reach up to roll her nipples between my fingers.
She grinds down on me, taking every inch of me inside of her, and I can tell she’s getting close by the way her eyes fall closed and she digs her nails into my chest. I’m right along with her, climbing higher and higher, getting ready to freefall over the edge, when something dawns on me.
“Sax, you can’t let me finish inside you if you don’t want to get pregnant again.”
Her movements stutter for only a second before she keeps going, quickening her speed. I tightly grip her waist, mindful of her injuries but enough to leave my mark. My jaw locks as she screams out, clenching around my dick while her orgasm explodes.
“Fuck, Saxon!” I growl.
Just before I empty everything I have inside of her, she pulls off and takes me into her mouth. The back of my head presses firmly against the tile floor as I grip her hair and come for the first time in weeks. And she takes every last fucking drop, swallowing it down.
She sits up and licks her lips, and I damn near come all over again.
“You didn’t get your vasectomy redone?” she asks as she uses her thumb to wipe away a dab of cum on the corner of her mouth and sucks it off.
I shake my head, my whole body relaxing with relief. “It’s not just my decision to make anymore.”
And that has her biting her lip to keep from smiling, showing me that the old Saxon is still in there, no matter how volatile this new Saxon may be.
Violence changes people. It shows them a different side of things. A side where everything is darker and more dangerous than it’s ever been before. And depending on your position, it shows you power. It gives you a taste of what it’s like to have someone beg for their life. For that moment, you get to play God, and that is what creates a monster.
Ever since finding Saxon in the shed, it’s as if something inside her snapped. She’s become obsessed with violence and murder, watching crime documentaries like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world and making risky moves that she wouldn’t have before. And no matter what I do, I can’t seem to bring her back from the darkness.
But I’m also not entirely sure I want to.
The depression has changed forms. Before she would lay in bed for hours, sobbing and hyperventilating until she had no energy left to give. But now, she fights. I’ve found her in the gym more times than I can count, throwing punch after punch into the bag as if it’s personally responsible for every bad thing in her life. I have half a mind to bring in Raff and let him train her, but that poses risks I’m not willing to take unless I have to.
All I know is that this version of her is beautifully lethal and terrifyingly dangerous.
“Boss.” Roman’s voice comes through the phone, snapping me from my dark thoughts. “It’s been a week and he’s refusing to eat. At this rate, he’ll starve to death before you have the chance to kill him.”