That, right there, was my fucking Luna!
I was so proud of her. I could lick the skin beneath her feet right now. She looked like a fucking villainess. Fuck.
She fought. So hard.
And guess what?
Kex finally stood and stepped back.
I almost felt relief. Almost.
Until he said, “Get me the branding iron.” And I stopped breathing.
The words didn’t register at first. My brain had flatlined. But my ears? My ears were cursed. They heard it clearly.
The other guard, who was the standby audience, hurried out and in less than five seconds, he was back with a burning red iron that bore a symbol. I’d seen that symbol before, but couldn’t even piece it out. Because my brain was dead at the moment, and everything in me had gone sluggish. Like my neurons decided they’d had enough and went on strike.
But believe me when I say I’d pick a branding iron over Kex’s cock. This might be my dumb self thinking, because I had already waved my sense of reasoning goodbye. But between watching my girl get violated by that son of a bitch and watching her get burned, I’d take the fire.
Although I heard someone call it “The mark of Jayla.” But I didn’t pay attention.
I just watched with the last surviving brain cell I had how Kex grinned, flashing those teeth I’d pluck off one after the other, before he placed the iron on my girl’s chest, just a little above her left breast.
She screamed at the top of her lungs.
Everything inside me stopped. And in that moment, I wasn’t Kester anymore. I wasn’t even an Alpha anymore. Not even Kasmine’s mate. Neither was I even a man.
I was just a weapon who had just been triggered.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
The next scene might be a little too gory for some readers. So, if you don’t like blood and torture, kindly skip.
KESTER.
Ever wondered why horror hits differently at night?
Of course you fucking haven’t.
But I’ll tell you for free.
It’s the thrill.
The fucking fear.
The blood.
The darkness.
And the screams… God, the fucking screams.
They echo louder. They mean more. They feed something inside.
See, night strips you down. Turns the hunter into a goddamn beast. Turns the prey into something worth chasing.
And right now?
I am not Kester. That man died the second my mate screamed through that screen.
I am what you birth when you break something sacred. This is the part where the devil prays I never catch up.
Because horror thrives at night.
And I just became its fucking god.
You think you’ve seen rage?
No. Rage is a cracked mirror.
This?
This is a void. A nuclear core. A storm without mercy.
You want to know what I see? I see red.
Kex…
I won’t kill him. I’ll redefine him. He’ll beg for death and scream so loud, the dead will cover their ears.
And the gods he never believed in?
He’ll call them. One by one. And when they don’t come, he’ll know what it feels like to be my Kasmine.
But for now, let’s hear how loud Wes would scream.
I ran my fingers over the weapons displayed on the small table like I was caressing art.
The metals were cold, but my skin was burning. I couldn’t tell if it was the lights, the air, or just the chaos bubbling in my chest.
The groans were getting me irritated. I couldn’t tell if it was too loud in here or if I had just become overly sensitive. Perhaps it was Zeth, who had been bouncing around, agitating to be let loose.
I didn’t give him full control. No. I also wanted to be a part of this. So, we both agreed we’d share partial control while wreaking this havoc.
“How do I serve you, brother-in-law?” I came to a stop in front of Wes, tilted my head, and smiled down at him. He was already sweating like a pig at slaughter.
He was gagged and tied to the chair with reinforced silver cuffs. His eyes were wide like he just realized hell had rules.
The room was dimly lit. I had picked out the exact setting I wanted the room to have, and my men did a perfect job. Now I felt like the villain in a horror movie. Or, should I call myself the hero? Well, the end shall tell.
He jerked against the cuffs, mumbling something desperate. I leaned in, just enough to feel his panic.
“Sorry, you’ll have to speak louder,” I whispered. “What did you say? Need water? A priest? Or…” I paused, pretending to think, the table?” you’d prefer
He mumbled something again and shook his head frantically.
“Oh. You’d prefer to lie on the table?” I asked, “The table it is!” I said cheerfully, waving two of my men forward like a game show host announcing the grand prize.
He thrashed and screamed behind the gag, with spit flying all over.
I wish I could hear him.
It was so pathetic. Didn’t people say he was all ice and stone? Why was he screaming like a little girl? Even my Kasmine didn’t scream this way in all those videos they made me watch, and she had ten times the strength in her little finger than this piece of shit did in his whole spine.
“Comfortable now?” I asked him like I was checking in on a patient. My palm smoothed over his head slowly as I stared down at him. He shook his head, swallowing a big lump, and I suddenly found myself taking an interest in his throat. I leaned in, zeroing in on that delicate stretch of skin.
Right there.
Just beneath the Adam’s apple.
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