Page 42 of Felix

“Good girl,” I mutter under my breath, smirking at her before I jump out of the car. The evening air bites at my skin, the semidarkness wrapping around me like a cloak. It’s time for some fun.

I hustle over to the boot, yanking it open with a vicious grin. The man inside squirms, trying to break free of his restraints, but he’s got no chance. I haul him out and drag him towards the house, taking sick pleasure in every whimper and plea that escapes him. He’s fucking pathetic.

“Please, man, I don’t know what you want from me!” he stammers, but his words fall on deaf ears. I’m not here to talk.

“Save your breath,” I snarl, shoving him down the stairsto the basement. Cold concrete greets us as the door swings shut, sealing off any hope of escape. I chain the bastard to the chair, making sure he’s secure. Tonight, he’s going to get the shit beaten out of him until he’s dead, and I can’t fucking wait.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have beat up your son,” I tell him, rolling up my sleeves. There’s a thrill in the anticipation, and the knowledge that I’m about to hurt this piece of shit feels like a drug coursing through my veins. I lean down, getting right in his face so he knows just how serious I am. “But now… now you’re gonna pay.”

Turning on my heels, I head back out the side entrance and into the evening air. I hear the front door slam shut as Aurora disappears inside the house, leaving me to deal with the man chained up in my basement. My blood is pumping, adrenaline surging through me like wildfire. I finish securing the boot of my car and follow her inside.

“Aurora,” I call out as I step into the kitchen, finding her sitting at the table, brows furrowed in frustration. She’s got that sexy little pout she does when she’s irritated, and it stirs something dark in me.

“The fuck you doing?” I ask, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

“Damn publicist won’t leave me the fuck alone,” she mutters, her fingers flying across her laptop’s keyboard. “Thinks I should do one last book signing. Might give in just to shut her the fuck up.”

“Last one, huh?” I say, smirking at the thought of her fans eating it up.

“Very last for this damn book,” she snaps.

“Join me in the basement when you’re done,” I suggest, eyeing her with a wicked grin. “Might enjoy giving our guest a proper welcome.”

She hesitates, biting her lip, and I catch a glimpse of that fire flickering behind her eyes. She’s curious, but fuck if she isn’t too scared to admit it.

“Maybe,” she finally says, looking back at her laptop. “Gimme a minute.”

“Take your time, darling.” I chuckle and lean down to gently kiss her forehead. Her skin trembles beneath my lips, but she doesn’t pull away.

Grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator, I walk back towards the basement. I have to stay hydrated for this kind of work. The door creaks open, and I descend into darkness, feeling the cold air wrap around me like an old friend.

“Alright,” I mutter, stepping down into the dimly-lit basement. My eyes lock onto the bastard tied up in the chair, his face a mix of fear and defiance. “Let’s do this.”

I roll up my sleeves, flexing my arms as I approach him. Something inside me stirs, that primal urge for violence taking over. And I’m not going to fight it.

“Hope you’re ready, motherfucker,” I snarl, pulling my arm back. The first punch lands square on his jaw, a satisfying crunch ringing through the air. He spits out blood and a tooth, but I’m not done yet. Not even close.

My fists fly like a fucking machine, each hit fuelled by all the shitstorm inside me. Every scream, every grunt of pain from him only pushes me further. This is what I need, what I crave— to let loose and fucking destroy.

Time blurs as I keep going, losing myself in the rush of itall. But then something catches my eye—a flicker of movement at the door.

“Didn’t think you’d show.” I huff between punches, feeling sweat run down my face.

There she is, Aurora, standing in the doorway with uncertainty etching her beautiful face. It’s been about forty minutes since I started, and part of me is surprised she came after all. But I can’t help but want her here to see if she’s got that fire in her too.

“Come on in, darling,” I say, holding out my bloody hand to her. “Don’t be shy now.”

For a moment, she hesitates, her dark eyes meeting mine. But then, something shifts in her expression, and she steps forward. I see the struggle inside her—that war between fear and desire. And it only makes me want her more.

She walks closer, her eyes darting between the man in the chair and me. Grabbing the hammer from the table, I hold it out to her.

“Go on, darling. Wanna take a swing at his knees?” I say challengingly.

Aurora’s face goes pale, and she shakes her head, handing the hammer back to me. “No thanks,” she mumbles. “I think I’ll just watch.”

“Suit yourself,” I grunt out, turning my attention back to the guy in front of me. With Aurora now perched on that metal gurney again, I can feel her eyes on me like a fucking hawk.

But this time, I won’t let her distract me. I’m in the zone, punching and pounding away at the guy’s face until he looksmore like ground beef than a fucking person. I won’t stop until I’ve finished what I started.

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