Page 56 of Carnival Stalker

I nod, my emotions overwhelming me. “Yours,” I whisper.

His thumb brushes my cheek, and he gives me a soft smile. “Let’s get you home. You need some rest.”

As he leads me back to the Mustang, the weight of what we did settles on my shoulders. We just had sex in public, in front of his friend and our captor. And I loved it. The thought sends a thrill through me, and I know, in that moment, that I’m his forever.

32

PHOENIX

Veronica dangles from the rafters, her eyes wide with fear as I step into the warehouse, the air heavy with anticipation and vengeance. I’ve left her here for a few days to stew. But it’s not her that concerns me; it’s Tilly. I turn to her, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Tilly, maybe you should wait outside. This won’t be pleasant.” I can’t hide the concern in my voice. The vicious side of me is about to be unleashed, and I’m not sure she’s ready to witness it.

But Tilly surprises me. “No, I want to see it. I want to watch you put that bitch in her place.” Her eyes burn with an intensity that wasn’t there before, a darkness borne from my kidnapping of her.

I search her face, seeing the determination etched in her features. It’s my fault that the darkness has tainted her, that her pure soul now carries a shadow. And yet, at this moment, I love her all the more for it. She’s mine, stronger because of what we’ve endured together.

“Are you sure?” I question.

She steps closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’m sure. I want to be here with you. We finish this together.”

I nod, my throat tight. “Together,” I echo. Taking a steadying breath, I turn toward Veronica, who glares at us with hatred.

Tilly stands at my side, her shoulder brushing my arm. We are united against the woman who tried to tear us apart.

It’s time for vengeance.

Keeping Tilly by my side, I move closer to her, smiling grimly. “Hello, Veronica. Long time, no see.”

Veronica struggles futilely against her bonds. “Phoenix, please... I know I hurt you, but I can make it right. I’ll do anything.” Her voice quavers, fear seeping into the cracks of her brave façade.

Ignoring her pleas, I reach into my pocket and retrieve a knife, the metal glinting menacingly in the harsh warehouse lighting. “Anything, huh? Well, I’ve always been a fan of poetic justice.” I tilt my head, studying her with false curiosity. “What was it you used to say to me? ‘I own you, body and soul?’”

Understanding dawns in her eyes as I move closer, the knife glinting in my hand.

Veronica’s eyes go wide as she realizes my intention. “No, Phoenix, please. You can’t?—”

Tilly steps forward, her eyes never leaving Veronica’s face. “Oh, but I think he can. And he will.” Her voice is steady.

“You don’t understand—” Veronica begins, but Tilly cuts her off.

“I understand enough.” Tilly’s gaze shifts to me, her expression unwavering. “Do it,” she says, her voice a quiet command.

I tighten my grip on the knife, my breath coming in short bursts. Veronica’s fear-filled gaze meets mine, and I see the vulnerable boy I once was reflected in her eyes.

With a roar, I slash the knife through the air, slicing through Veronica’s clothes and drawing a thin red line across her chest. She screams, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. I move closer. My actions are frenzied as I continue to cut, needing to erase every last trace of her hold on me. The knife slices through fabric and skin, each cut a release of the pent-up anger and pain she inflicted.

Her screams pierce the air, but Tilly stands her ground. She watches, her eyes never flinching from the gruesome scene. Her presence grounds me, even as I descend into a mad frenzy of violence. My knife cuts deeper, marking her flesh, each slice a promise that I’ll never let anyone hurt us again.

As the initial rage begins to ebb, my cuts become more deliberate and more calculated. I want her to feel the terror and pain she inflicted on me and, no doubt, others.

The screams turn to whimpers, her body going limp in defeat. I step back, my chest heaving, the knife falling from my hand. Tilly’s breathing fills the silence, her eyes taking in the scene.

“Is itover?” she asks.

I bend down and pick up the knife, my eyes never leaving Veronica’s broken form. “Not yet.”

With a flick of my wrist, I slice through the ropes, binding her, and let her crumple to the ground. She whimpers, her eyes pleading for mercy. I offer none.

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