Page 62 of Devils Cut

"Get your fucking hands off me!" My voice was hoarse, raw from screaming, but I refused to give in.

"Always the fighter, huh?" He tried to kick my legs apart, but I had locked them together at the ankles, desperate to deny him any access. Tears streamed down my face as I continued to cry out, my throat burning with each strangled scream.

"Let me go, you sick bastard!"

"Aw, come on, sis. This is just like old times," he sneered, his words sending chills down my spine.

"Fuck you!" I spat, rage and terror fuelling me as I struggled against his hold. But no matter how hard I fought, it seemed impossible to break free from his grasp.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I swung my arm back, elbow connecting with his head. The pressure on the back of my skull lessened for a moment, allowing me to move my head to the side. I gasped for air, but before I could catch my breath, he threw a vicious punch into the side of my face.

"Fuck!" I cried out, seeing stars as my vision went white and my ears rang. Still, I refused to let him win.

"Give it up, slut," he spat, his breath hot and foul against my cheek. He pressed his hand down on the side of my face, grinding it into the wooden step. "You owe me thousands since you left. I've lost everything, and it's all your fault."

"Go to hell," I snarled through gritted teeth, struggling harder to keep my legs locked together. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but I couldn't give in. If I did, I'd be giving him exactly what he wanted – control over me. And there was no fucking way that was going to happen.

"Face it, Tempest. You belong to me." His voice dripped with venom.

The earth seemed to stop moving as Greg finally managed to wrench my legs apart, settling a knee between them. Panic and disgust surged through me, my heart hammering in my chest.

"You're dead," he growled, shoving his hand into the waistband of my pants and starting to move it towards my core.

"Fuck you!" I screamed, but even as the words left my mouth, a distant rumble caught my attention. The sound was unmistakable – the roar of motorcycle engines.

My lips curled into a smile despite the situation, and Greg noticed. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the source of the noise. Seizing the opportunity, I screamed Corvus's name at the top of my lungs, hoping that he'd hear me.

"Shut up!" Greg snapped, yanking me up by my hair. Pain seared through my scalp as he dragged me down the back steps and into the overgrown yard.

"Corvus!" I yelled again, desperation lending strength to my voice. Please, please make it in time...

"Let go of me, you sick fuck!" I snarled, tearing myself from Greg's grip. A large chunk of my hair remained in his hands, but I didn't care – all that mattered was getting away from him.

But he was relentless. He lunged for me, grabbing me around the waist and pressing the cold metal of his gun against my temple. "If you move one more time, I'll shoot you!" he threatened, his voice low and dangerous.

I knew he wasn't bluffing; if I wanted to survive this, I'd have to outsmart him. My mind raced, searching for any way to turn the tables on my brother. As I struggled to think, the motorcycle's roar grew closer.

"Corvus!" I screamed again, my voice cracking as terror clawed at my insides. The roar of the bikes outside was like a lifeline, and I clung to it with everything I had.

The house shook with the force of the crashing sounds coming from within. And then, just when I thought my heart might burst from the tension, Corvus burst through the back door. He was a dark avenging angel, guns in each hand, his eyes blazing with lethal intent.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed, relief flooding through me. He was here, my saviour, my protector. But the situation was far from over, and I knew we were still dancing on the edge of a knife.

"Lower the gun… now," Corvus ordered Greg, his voice as calm and cold as ice. It sent shivers down my spine even as it strengthened my resolve. This was not a man to be trifled with, and if my brother had any sense, he'd heed that warning.

"She belongs to me," Greg spat, defiance etched across his face. But beneath it all, I could hear the flicker of fear.

Chapter 26

Corvus king

Sweat trickled down my temple, but I remained focused on the scene before me. My hands gripped the guns tightly, one in each hand, both trained on Greg.

"Let her go now," I demanded through gritted teeth, my voice low and steady.

Tempest's back was pressed against Greg's front, her eyes wide with terror. The cold steel of his gun was pressed firmly against her temple, and he wore an unnerving grin on his face.

"Look at you," he taunted, enjoying the power he held over me and the woman I loved. "You think you can just swoop in and save her like some fucking hero?"

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