Page 108 of The Monster You Made
But she doesn’t stop, and I can’t take it anymore. The beast roars, and I surge up, seizing her knife by the blade, not caring as it cuts into my palm, blood dripping. I rip her shirt off, tearing it into strips, and use it to bind her hands behind her back, the fabric tight, unyielding. She struggles, her eyes blazing with defiance, but I’m stronger, and I flip her onto the bedroll, grabbing her discarded pants to bind her ankles. She’s trapped now, her body exposed, her breasts heaving, her cunt still wet, glistening in the moonlight.
“You’re mine,” I growl, my voice thick with anger and need, and I take the knife, dragging it lightly down her arm, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. She gasps, her body arching, and I lean down, licking the blood, tasting iron and her. “Even your blood is mine,” I say, and her eyes darken, a mix of fear and desire that makes my cock ache. I don’t wait, don’t ask, just thrust into her, my cock filling her tight, wet cunt.
She cries out, her bound hands straining, her legs trembling against the restraints.
I go on to fuck her senseless, each thrust hard and deep, the bedroll shifting beneath us, the tent filled with the sounds of our bodies, slapping skin, her moans, my growls. Her cunt grips me, milking me, and I’m relentless, my hands bruising her hips, the knife still in my hand, a constant threat. She’s shaking, her body yielding even as her eyes burn with defiance, and I feel the power, the control, surging through me. I’m close, so fucking close, my cock throbbing inside her, and she senses it, her voice cutting through the haze.
“In my mouth,” she gasps, her voice raw, desperate, and I pull out, my cock slick with her. I cut the bindings on her hands, just enough to free them, and she scrambles to her knees,her lips closing around me. I thrust, fucking her mouth again, and she takes it, her tongue working, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach. I come, hard, my cum spilling down her throat, and she drinks every drop, her eyes locked on mine, fierce and unbroken.
I collapse beside her, my body spent, my hand bleeding, the knife discarded. For a moment, I pull her close, my lips brushing her forehead, soft, almost tender, and she doesn’t pull away. Her breath is hot against my chest, her body trembling, and I feel it, the loyalty, the need, beneath the anger.
“You’re mine,” I murmur, and she doesn’t argue, just presses closer, her heart pounding against mine.
Chapter 54 - Vera
The morning breaks gray, the sky a lid pressed down on the earth. Smoke drifts from the chimneys, thin and restless. The rescued stir in their cots, some with cautious smiles, some with haunted eyes. We have given them one night of safety. What we cannot give them is certainty.
I walk the halls with Marta’s words heavy in my satchel. Each time I touch the leather, I feel her voice steadier than my own.Truth endures. Chains break.But what of brothers turned into masks? What of bonds the Crown has stolen and remade? Marta never wrote of that.
***
Lucian is already awake, already armored. He stands at the edge of the compound, watching the trees as though expecting them to move. His shoulders are broad, but I see the weight pressing them down. I join him in silence, snow crunching under my boots.
“They’ll push back soon,” he says without turning. “The convoy, the hospital—none of that went unnoticed. They’ll send something heavier.”
I study him. “Do you mean him?”
The muscles in his jaw flex. “Yes.”
We let the word hang. Cassian. His brother. His ghost. His mask.
“Then we’re ready,” I say, more certain than I feel.
He finally looks at me. The fire in his eyes is dimmer than before, but it is still there. “Are we?”
***
The council meets again at midday. Maps sprawl across the table, Korrin’s testimony pinned beside them. Names, dates, transfer codes. Cadmus printed like a scar across every page. Elira slams her hand against one map, finger stabbing a point near the borderlands.
“Here,” she says. “If they move soldiers and resources like this, then Cadmus lies near this corridor. Too well-defended for coincidence.”
Rourke squints at the ink. “Or they’re drawing us to it. A funnel. Drive the beast into the cage.”
“Then we break the cage,” Elira snarls.
Lucian listens without speaking. His silence is its own command. At last, he places a hand on the map, covering the wordCadmus. “We don’t rush. We track. We bleed them of information until they have nothing left to hide. When we march, it will be because there is no more doubt.”
The room falls still. Even Elira does not argue. His voice has no shout, no roar, only iron certainty.
***
Later, I walk the compound alone. Children chase each other through the snow, their laughter thin but real. For a moment, it feels almost normal. Then I see the scars on their wrists where chains once cut deep, and the illusion shatters.
Beth passes me in the corridor, carrying blankets to the new arrivals. Her eyes meet mine, full of recognition and quiet strength. She nods once. No words, no questions. I want to immediately stop her and talk but think better of it. I see it in her face; she knows this isn’t victory. It is a pause. A breath before the storm.
***
Night again. I find Lucian seated on his cot, the lamplight casting long shadows. He holds a scrap of Korrin’s notes in his hands, crumpled but unread. His gaze is far away, fixed on something only he can see.
