Destroyed
Page 29
Fox cursed in a foreign language. His hipbones dug into my ass, faster and faster.
I sniffed back my tears and hardened my heart. I was wrong to think we had anything special. Fox had eloquently shown me how stupid I truly was. It was over. I was done. This would be the last time he hurt me.
Shutting my emotions down, I let him f**k me. I switched off every sensation and waited for it to be over. I preferred to ignore what was happening and pretended none of this existed.
You brought this on yourself.
I told myself to shut up. I’d only done what I thought might work. I poured all my effort into him only to be thwarted in the worst possible way.
His h*ps thrust harder and instead of trying to get away, I pushed back, deliberately impaling him harder.
He gasped. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh, God.”
Wanting it over, I squeezed my inner muscles around him, rocking back, giving him everything I had left.
His breath came faster, harsher as he thrust again and again. He was violent and cruel, every stroke measured for pain rather than pleasure. He bumped against the top of my pu**y, hurting me with urgency.
Curling over me, his back smothered mine as he sunk teeth deep into my neck. I screamed as he thrust again, filling me completely.
Then he came.
Hot, wet streams spurt deep inside. On and on and on.
His hands on my h*ps clenched hard and teeth bit down on the sinew between my neck and collarbone.
And then it was over and his ragged pants turned to agonized curses. “Fuck.”
He pulled out, stumbling to his feet in a rush. The sound of his zipper and belt were the only noises apart from our harsh breathing. Everything ached. Bruises throbbed.
“Fuck!” he roared, prowling around me with his trousers undone and desolation in his voice. I didn’t dare move, but I did flip onto my side and curl up into a little ball. Hiding my nakedness, nursing my shame.
Fox dropped to his haunches in front of me. The veins in his neck stood out as he breathed hard through flared nostrils. He reached out to touch me, but then stopped. His groan held every sadness and regret in the world. “I’m so f**king sorry, Hazel.”
I didn’t say a word. I had nothing to say.
I was done.
Fox stood up and moved away. Looking back at me, I knew without a doubt he would find some way to f**k himself up with pain. He looked lost and terrified. He looked like a man ready for death.
I tried to make myself care. I tried to find compassion deep inside but I was empty.
I’d already given him everything and had nothing left.
Fox stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
The instant he was gone, I sat up and let the torrents of tears run down my cheeks.
Gathering my discarded clothing, I dressed, and turned my back on Obsidian Fox for the last time.
Chapter 12
No one knew.
No one.
Not my handler or my contact.
But it was the thing that granted me freedom.
It was nature bringing down a predator. It was life giving me a second chance.
It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly, gradually, as if the atrocities I’d done stained my eyes until they no longer wanted to witness my sins.
It took a victim to uncover my one weakness. And I would be forever grateful.
I f**ked up a mission, and my target showed me I suffered a handicap.
Something I hadn’t even noticed.
The news spread, and my handlers booked me in for Lasik and other supposed miracle cures. But it was no use. The doctors said there wasn’t anything wrong with me. It was all mental.
I was going blind.
I bashed my head against the back of the bathroom door, willing away the cold lecherous orders; ignoring the overriding urges I’d never be free of.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My mind wouldn’t stop whirling with images of Hazel on her knees while I drove manically into her. The red burn on her cheek from pressing her face into the carpet. The sounds of her cries and pleas.
I’m a bastard. No, I’m worse than that. I’m a soulless machine.
Today was not a good day. I woke to a strong wave of conditioning. The first of every month had been a special recap for operatives. A day we were made to cement our training with yet more grotesqueness.
I warned her!
I f**king warned her to keep her distance and yet she kept pushing and pushing and pushing.
I spun around and smashed my fist against the door. Gritting my teeth against the pain licking my knuckles, I glanced in the mirror.
I was f**king wild. Out of control. A rogue operative who should’ve taken the pill two years ago and ended his miserable life. The scar on my cheek itched with memories, hurtling me back to then—to a place I never wanted to return.
“Hold him down.”
My twenty-one-year old heart tore itself into pieces as my handler held up a short crescent moon blade. I’d forged it. I’d hammered the steel into creation. I was well-known for being one of the best metal smiths in the society. And now it would be used against me.
“I obeyed. I did what you said.”
My handler paused beside me, looking down with eyes devoid of emotion. “You didn’t though, did you, Fox. You think you can flaunt the rules. You can’t. You belong to us, and you kill whoever we say you will.”
The two men holding my shoulders against the table grunted as I fought. But it wasn’t any use.
The sharp tip of the knife entered my mouth, moving to rest behind the soft smoothness of my cheek.
“Every time you look in the mirror you’ll see what happens when you try to fight the control.”
His wrist flicked up and pain exploded in every crevice of my body. I screamed and choked on my own blood as my cheek gaped in two.
I hated him. I wanted to f**king kill him and every Ghost here.
Throwing the knife to the floor, he ordered, “Sew him up. No morphine.”
The bathroom swirled around me; phantom pain ached in my badly sewn up cheek. The flesh inside my mouth felt rough and foreign. Infection after infection had turned a neat line of stitches into a tattered mess.
I’d forgotten the message they’d scarred me with. My thought patterns weren’t my own; my body obeyed no one but the programmed rules and commands.
Why did I ever think I stood a chance? I wished I could rewind time and never look at Zel. I wanted to erase myself and all the pain I’d caused from her life.
My white eyes met my mirrored image.
How could you hurt her?
You’re so weak.
You’ve lost her.
You don’t deserve her.
I sighed heavily, hanging my head.
I never wanted to see Hazel again—not after hurting her so f**king much. Every time she came near me, I was the crux of every bad thing that happened to her.
It wasn’t fair. I wouldn’t do it anymore.
I wanted her gone.
Whatever progress she made the night she stabbed me had disappeared. Whatever sweetness we might’ve found in the greenhouse disintegrated. I’d hoped she’d broken through and set me on the road to recovery¸ but it’d just been a moment. One brittle moment that shattered the second it was over.
She’d turned me from killer to man—licking me so sweetly, giving me a gift no one had before and all I did in return was revert back to a useless miserable operative with no chance in hell of living.
I couldn’t ask any more of her. I couldn’t expect her to stay. Not now.
Minutes ticked by. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t risk returning to the bedroom.
Grabbing a small hammer from the vanity, I stepped into the shower. Kneeling, I searched for the seam of the secret escape hatch I’d designed. I would never again go into a room with only one exit. After a life time of cages, I knew the value of having two ways out. It meant the difference between surviving and dying.
The custom-made bench seat looked as if it was tiled and part of the shower, but with a few carefully placed taps of the hammer, the mortar cracked, breaking the false seal.
The escape hole only led to the next bedroom’s closet, but it gave me the freedom I needed.
The minute I crawled through the small space, I stood upright and buckled my trousers.
My c**k still throbbed with the fading orgasm. I cursed the sensitivity of my balls—hating the tingling from being deep inside a woman who I couldn’t help but destroy.
She’d never forgive me, which was fine as I would never forgive myself.
Opening the door to the corridor, I checked to see if Zel was around before charging toward the opposite end of Obsidian.
I wanted no chance of running into Zel. Jogging down the stairs, I entered the section of the house I hadn’t shown her.
The foyer held most of my creations. Birds and horses and every creature I’d ever met in the Siberian forests of Mother Russia. It was a zoo made out of bronze and copper.
When I lost my sight, the thing I missed most was sculpting—bringing animals to life even though they’d never draw air.
The contract I’d signed when my blindness had been discovered roared back to mind.
There are only two ways an operative may leave the Establishment.
Death.
Disability.
Upon leaving, the agent promises to never speak of said Establishment to anyone at any time for any reason. They solemnly swear to never talk about missions, details, or history. They must have their affairs in order and swallow the last instruction of duty.
Sharing of secrets is not permitted and the Establishment will not hesitate to carry out orders to erase both ex-operative and person who knows intimate knowledge.
The operative has exactly five weeks from removal to swallow his final task.
If this is disobeyed, the Establishment has full right to hunt, interrogate, and kill.
We are always watching.
Invincible. Impenetrable. Invisible.
Like the f**king schmuck I was, I signed it. I wanted out. I needed out. Every day, I lost more and more of my vision until I relied on a cane to move around. I already lived in hell, but now I lived in complete and utter darkness. I hated every moment of it.
Every day I begged for freedom—and fate finally listened by taking away my sight until I was useless to them.
I signed it.
I learned to read braille.
I left and never looked back.
For two years, I lived a life adrift from others. I opened Obsidian and hired Oscar to oversee it. Using my inheritance from my slaughtered family, I began a new life. I worked during the witching hours and slept while the sun protected me, basking my skin in warmth and safety my eyes couldn’t see.
And slowly, my vision came back.
The pressure of my past stopped crushing me; I believed the illusion that I was free—regardless of the fact that I was supposed to put myself down like a dog. I had everything I ever wanted apart from the privilege of indulging in another human for comfort. I thought I didn’t want it—that I was above such frivolous desires. But I wasn’t.
I wanted Zel like I wanted my next breath. I was dying to touch her. I’d give up my vision all over again if it meant I could kiss her and wrap my arms around her and be sure I’d never hurt her again.
I would undergo any operation or therapy if it meant I could just be normal. All I wanted was to provide and care for a woman who gave me all of herself. I hadn’t given anything in return, and I was sick of taking. Sick of being a mess. Sick of every damn thing.
I wanted to be a man for her. To shelter her, nurture her…learn to love her.
You’re a f**king idiot.
I’d just proved how wistful and fanciful such dreams were. I took Zel by force all because she touched me briefly.
You don’t deserve her.
Damn right I didn’t. I didn’t deserve anything more than a hole in the f**king ground.
The switch inside had flicked on and drowned out everything else. I was inflicted—therefore I had to inflict. Simple. Powerful. Unfightable.
Moving through the house, I didn’t know where I would go. I doubted Poison Oaks would indulge my needs so soon. I’d have to resort to more rudimentary methods and lurk in an alley once again.
The anticipation of a fist to my jaw gave me the willpower to keep moving and not bash my head in with the small rabbit statue sitting on the side table.
Wrenching open the door, I sucked in the early afternoon air. Gulping in freshness, I tilted my head up to the sun.
The sun.
Shit. No clubs would be open to fight at this time. No alleys would be dark enough. I had nowhere to go to purge my body and punish myself. I needed a physical release, not just a few lines of a razor blade. Even the tools in my workshop wouldn’t give me the wallop I hungered for.
Where could I go to find redemption?
My brain filled with images of Zel again as I stalked around the side of the house toward the garage and my black Porsche.
Her beautifully firm ass as I drove into her. Her gorgeous cascading hair and heart shaped face. The way she looked at me afterward told me exactly what she thought.
Her eyes screamed the truth: I was diabolic. Not fit to be around others. And definitely not worthy of her.
I’d never forgive myself for drilling murderously into her like she was an enemy I needed kill.
Squinting in the glare, I stopped short.
Shit, I hated what I’d done so much, my vision was compromised. A slight film covered my gaze. I’d contaminated myself with horrendous actions toward a woman who deserved a kingdom.
I needed to leave that instant. I didn’t want to watch her go. I’d severed the connection between us, and there was nothing but the cold-hearted mistress of conditioning.
It was over.
I’d wanted to know so much about her. She could see the truth through all my bullshit and knew so much more about me than I did about her. The secrets she kept hidden were so deep inside I had no chance of deciphering them.
All I knew was the driving force behind everything she did was grief.
I sniffed back my tears and hardened my heart. I was wrong to think we had anything special. Fox had eloquently shown me how stupid I truly was. It was over. I was done. This would be the last time he hurt me.
Shutting my emotions down, I let him f**k me. I switched off every sensation and waited for it to be over. I preferred to ignore what was happening and pretended none of this existed.
You brought this on yourself.
I told myself to shut up. I’d only done what I thought might work. I poured all my effort into him only to be thwarted in the worst possible way.
His h*ps thrust harder and instead of trying to get away, I pushed back, deliberately impaling him harder.
He gasped. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh, God.”
Wanting it over, I squeezed my inner muscles around him, rocking back, giving him everything I had left.
His breath came faster, harsher as he thrust again and again. He was violent and cruel, every stroke measured for pain rather than pleasure. He bumped against the top of my pu**y, hurting me with urgency.
Curling over me, his back smothered mine as he sunk teeth deep into my neck. I screamed as he thrust again, filling me completely.
Then he came.
Hot, wet streams spurt deep inside. On and on and on.
His hands on my h*ps clenched hard and teeth bit down on the sinew between my neck and collarbone.
And then it was over and his ragged pants turned to agonized curses. “Fuck.”
He pulled out, stumbling to his feet in a rush. The sound of his zipper and belt were the only noises apart from our harsh breathing. Everything ached. Bruises throbbed.
“Fuck!” he roared, prowling around me with his trousers undone and desolation in his voice. I didn’t dare move, but I did flip onto my side and curl up into a little ball. Hiding my nakedness, nursing my shame.
Fox dropped to his haunches in front of me. The veins in his neck stood out as he breathed hard through flared nostrils. He reached out to touch me, but then stopped. His groan held every sadness and regret in the world. “I’m so f**king sorry, Hazel.”
I didn’t say a word. I had nothing to say.
I was done.
Fox stood up and moved away. Looking back at me, I knew without a doubt he would find some way to f**k himself up with pain. He looked lost and terrified. He looked like a man ready for death.
I tried to make myself care. I tried to find compassion deep inside but I was empty.
I’d already given him everything and had nothing left.
Fox stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
The instant he was gone, I sat up and let the torrents of tears run down my cheeks.
Gathering my discarded clothing, I dressed, and turned my back on Obsidian Fox for the last time.
Chapter 12
No one knew.
No one.
Not my handler or my contact.
But it was the thing that granted me freedom.
It was nature bringing down a predator. It was life giving me a second chance.
It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly, gradually, as if the atrocities I’d done stained my eyes until they no longer wanted to witness my sins.
It took a victim to uncover my one weakness. And I would be forever grateful.
I f**ked up a mission, and my target showed me I suffered a handicap.
Something I hadn’t even noticed.
The news spread, and my handlers booked me in for Lasik and other supposed miracle cures. But it was no use. The doctors said there wasn’t anything wrong with me. It was all mental.
I was going blind.
I bashed my head against the back of the bathroom door, willing away the cold lecherous orders; ignoring the overriding urges I’d never be free of.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My mind wouldn’t stop whirling with images of Hazel on her knees while I drove manically into her. The red burn on her cheek from pressing her face into the carpet. The sounds of her cries and pleas.
I’m a bastard. No, I’m worse than that. I’m a soulless machine.
Today was not a good day. I woke to a strong wave of conditioning. The first of every month had been a special recap for operatives. A day we were made to cement our training with yet more grotesqueness.
I warned her!
I f**king warned her to keep her distance and yet she kept pushing and pushing and pushing.
I spun around and smashed my fist against the door. Gritting my teeth against the pain licking my knuckles, I glanced in the mirror.
I was f**king wild. Out of control. A rogue operative who should’ve taken the pill two years ago and ended his miserable life. The scar on my cheek itched with memories, hurtling me back to then—to a place I never wanted to return.
“Hold him down.”
My twenty-one-year old heart tore itself into pieces as my handler held up a short crescent moon blade. I’d forged it. I’d hammered the steel into creation. I was well-known for being one of the best metal smiths in the society. And now it would be used against me.
“I obeyed. I did what you said.”
My handler paused beside me, looking down with eyes devoid of emotion. “You didn’t though, did you, Fox. You think you can flaunt the rules. You can’t. You belong to us, and you kill whoever we say you will.”
The two men holding my shoulders against the table grunted as I fought. But it wasn’t any use.
The sharp tip of the knife entered my mouth, moving to rest behind the soft smoothness of my cheek.
“Every time you look in the mirror you’ll see what happens when you try to fight the control.”
His wrist flicked up and pain exploded in every crevice of my body. I screamed and choked on my own blood as my cheek gaped in two.
I hated him. I wanted to f**king kill him and every Ghost here.
Throwing the knife to the floor, he ordered, “Sew him up. No morphine.”
The bathroom swirled around me; phantom pain ached in my badly sewn up cheek. The flesh inside my mouth felt rough and foreign. Infection after infection had turned a neat line of stitches into a tattered mess.
I’d forgotten the message they’d scarred me with. My thought patterns weren’t my own; my body obeyed no one but the programmed rules and commands.
Why did I ever think I stood a chance? I wished I could rewind time and never look at Zel. I wanted to erase myself and all the pain I’d caused from her life.
My white eyes met my mirrored image.
How could you hurt her?
You’re so weak.
You’ve lost her.
You don’t deserve her.
I sighed heavily, hanging my head.
I never wanted to see Hazel again—not after hurting her so f**king much. Every time she came near me, I was the crux of every bad thing that happened to her.
It wasn’t fair. I wouldn’t do it anymore.
I wanted her gone.
Whatever progress she made the night she stabbed me had disappeared. Whatever sweetness we might’ve found in the greenhouse disintegrated. I’d hoped she’d broken through and set me on the road to recovery¸ but it’d just been a moment. One brittle moment that shattered the second it was over.
She’d turned me from killer to man—licking me so sweetly, giving me a gift no one had before and all I did in return was revert back to a useless miserable operative with no chance in hell of living.
I couldn’t ask any more of her. I couldn’t expect her to stay. Not now.
Minutes ticked by. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t risk returning to the bedroom.
Grabbing a small hammer from the vanity, I stepped into the shower. Kneeling, I searched for the seam of the secret escape hatch I’d designed. I would never again go into a room with only one exit. After a life time of cages, I knew the value of having two ways out. It meant the difference between surviving and dying.
The custom-made bench seat looked as if it was tiled and part of the shower, but with a few carefully placed taps of the hammer, the mortar cracked, breaking the false seal.
The escape hole only led to the next bedroom’s closet, but it gave me the freedom I needed.
The minute I crawled through the small space, I stood upright and buckled my trousers.
My c**k still throbbed with the fading orgasm. I cursed the sensitivity of my balls—hating the tingling from being deep inside a woman who I couldn’t help but destroy.
She’d never forgive me, which was fine as I would never forgive myself.
Opening the door to the corridor, I checked to see if Zel was around before charging toward the opposite end of Obsidian.
I wanted no chance of running into Zel. Jogging down the stairs, I entered the section of the house I hadn’t shown her.
The foyer held most of my creations. Birds and horses and every creature I’d ever met in the Siberian forests of Mother Russia. It was a zoo made out of bronze and copper.
When I lost my sight, the thing I missed most was sculpting—bringing animals to life even though they’d never draw air.
The contract I’d signed when my blindness had been discovered roared back to mind.
There are only two ways an operative may leave the Establishment.
Death.
Disability.
Upon leaving, the agent promises to never speak of said Establishment to anyone at any time for any reason. They solemnly swear to never talk about missions, details, or history. They must have their affairs in order and swallow the last instruction of duty.
Sharing of secrets is not permitted and the Establishment will not hesitate to carry out orders to erase both ex-operative and person who knows intimate knowledge.
The operative has exactly five weeks from removal to swallow his final task.
If this is disobeyed, the Establishment has full right to hunt, interrogate, and kill.
We are always watching.
Invincible. Impenetrable. Invisible.
Like the f**king schmuck I was, I signed it. I wanted out. I needed out. Every day, I lost more and more of my vision until I relied on a cane to move around. I already lived in hell, but now I lived in complete and utter darkness. I hated every moment of it.
Every day I begged for freedom—and fate finally listened by taking away my sight until I was useless to them.
I signed it.
I learned to read braille.
I left and never looked back.
For two years, I lived a life adrift from others. I opened Obsidian and hired Oscar to oversee it. Using my inheritance from my slaughtered family, I began a new life. I worked during the witching hours and slept while the sun protected me, basking my skin in warmth and safety my eyes couldn’t see.
And slowly, my vision came back.
The pressure of my past stopped crushing me; I believed the illusion that I was free—regardless of the fact that I was supposed to put myself down like a dog. I had everything I ever wanted apart from the privilege of indulging in another human for comfort. I thought I didn’t want it—that I was above such frivolous desires. But I wasn’t.
I wanted Zel like I wanted my next breath. I was dying to touch her. I’d give up my vision all over again if it meant I could kiss her and wrap my arms around her and be sure I’d never hurt her again.
I would undergo any operation or therapy if it meant I could just be normal. All I wanted was to provide and care for a woman who gave me all of herself. I hadn’t given anything in return, and I was sick of taking. Sick of being a mess. Sick of every damn thing.
I wanted to be a man for her. To shelter her, nurture her…learn to love her.
You’re a f**king idiot.
I’d just proved how wistful and fanciful such dreams were. I took Zel by force all because she touched me briefly.
You don’t deserve her.
Damn right I didn’t. I didn’t deserve anything more than a hole in the f**king ground.
The switch inside had flicked on and drowned out everything else. I was inflicted—therefore I had to inflict. Simple. Powerful. Unfightable.
Moving through the house, I didn’t know where I would go. I doubted Poison Oaks would indulge my needs so soon. I’d have to resort to more rudimentary methods and lurk in an alley once again.
The anticipation of a fist to my jaw gave me the willpower to keep moving and not bash my head in with the small rabbit statue sitting on the side table.
Wrenching open the door, I sucked in the early afternoon air. Gulping in freshness, I tilted my head up to the sun.
The sun.
Shit. No clubs would be open to fight at this time. No alleys would be dark enough. I had nowhere to go to purge my body and punish myself. I needed a physical release, not just a few lines of a razor blade. Even the tools in my workshop wouldn’t give me the wallop I hungered for.
Where could I go to find redemption?
My brain filled with images of Zel again as I stalked around the side of the house toward the garage and my black Porsche.
Her beautifully firm ass as I drove into her. Her gorgeous cascading hair and heart shaped face. The way she looked at me afterward told me exactly what she thought.
Her eyes screamed the truth: I was diabolic. Not fit to be around others. And definitely not worthy of her.
I’d never forgive myself for drilling murderously into her like she was an enemy I needed kill.
Squinting in the glare, I stopped short.
Shit, I hated what I’d done so much, my vision was compromised. A slight film covered my gaze. I’d contaminated myself with horrendous actions toward a woman who deserved a kingdom.
I needed to leave that instant. I didn’t want to watch her go. I’d severed the connection between us, and there was nothing but the cold-hearted mistress of conditioning.
It was over.
I’d wanted to know so much about her. She could see the truth through all my bullshit and knew so much more about me than I did about her. The secrets she kept hidden were so deep inside I had no chance of deciphering them.
All I knew was the driving force behind everything she did was grief.
