Savage Heart (Wreck & Ruin 2)

All the plans were set, every possible outcome discussed, and everyone was preparing. It was the last day before we either all died, or we all won. There was no other alternative to those two.

My chest squeezes at the former possibility, at the possibility of Wren and Lex’s baby being raised without her mother and father, at the possibility of my brother not getting his life with Eleanor, or me and Hunter working through our past without this great looming shadow above us.

“There’s something I want to do,” I say to Hunter at a little past ten PM.

“What’s that?”

“If we win tomorrow, if we finally end it, I don’t want anything from my past still alive.”

He frowns, “Not if, but okay? What do you want to do?”

“Are you attached to your house?” I ask.

“Not particularly.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The city is quiet as Hunter drives us back to the house, the roads practically empty except for the odd taxi. Hunter remains silent, the radio off and the only noise filling the car is the sound of the tires on the road.

He doesn’t ask questions, I think he knows what I have planned anyway since he saw me putting the shit in the car before we left.

We pull up and park on the road, the house dark at the side of the street. This whole road sleeps and as I get out the car, I make sure to close the door quietly.

“Cameras are off,” Hunter murmurs, standing and leaning against the car, crossing his arms.

“Thank you.”

I open the trunk and take out the large bottle I had stashed in there, accepting the house keys from him as I walk by. The door creaks open and silence greets me. The darkness is thick, but I don’t switch on any of the lights, even if the fear of it makes my palms sweat.

My footsteps echo down the halls until I stop, facing the door that would lead me down to those cells beneath the house. The cells housing those men who hurt me so fucking badly.

I press my thumb to the pad, unlocking the door. Glancing behind me, I see myself still alone. He would come if I called but I wanted to do this alone. I needed to.

I step inside, fighting the instinct to turn around, to run.

I wouldn’t let my trauma and my fear control me anymore.

The lights illuminate my path and I take casual steps down, further and further beneath the house.

“Hello!?” One of the men call. I was surprised they even had the energy to speak. The smell of piss, vomit and shit stuffs itself up my nose and I suppress the gag that works its way up my throat. I find them in the same place as they were before, skinny and dehydrated, practically dead. Actually, one was dead, he hangs from the wall, skin grey and sunken, eyes staring directly ahead. The others were still alive, two barely and one more lively than the rest. The cop.

“Are you here to help?” He asks, “Please.” He clearly hasn’t realized who I was.

“No,” I say softly, “I’m not here to help.”

His blood shot eyes widen when he sees me.

“I’m here to punish.”

“Please,” the cop begs, “Please, I’m sorry.”

I laugh, “Apologies don’t make it better. You know, sometimes sorry just isn’t enough.”

I unscrew the lid of the bottle, the smell hitting me hard as I walk towards them, pouring the shit all over the floor. I douse the place before beginning the walk back up, pouring as I walk. When I get to the top, I continue through the house, heading to the kitchen where I put the lid on and place the bottle on the table.

The click of the oven is loud in the otherwise quiet house, the spark igniting the gas on the hob on all four rings. I lean down and blow each one out, keeping the gas flowing and turn back to the door to the cells. I open it only slightly and light the match, throwing it inside, igniting the fuel I’d dumped on the floor. It catches instantly but I don’t stick around to watch it burn. Instead, I prepare another match and throw it down at the kitchen before sprinting for the door, letting the whole house catch. It goes up quickly, the trails of liquid catch in each room. It would blow soon, and I wanted to be far away from it when it did.

I run to Hunter who catches me and grips my face, slamming his mouth onto mine.

“Mm,” he growls, “That was fucking hot.”

“Literally,” I laugh, turning back to watch the flames growing, the cracks of things burning up loud and echoing down the street. “We need to get out of here before it blows. We don’t need to be seen in the area.”

He grins, “I’m going to fuck you the moment we’re clear.”

“You have issues.”

He grabs my hand and pushes it at his groin, showing me exactly what I’ve done to him, “I have an issue that you need to fix.”

I lick his bottom lip, “Let’s go.”

While I know it’s impossible, I swear I hear screaming as I climb into the car and Hunter drives. It echoes inside my head until right when we hit the end of the street, a deafening boom splits the night and the screaming stops.

We’re five minutes from the house when I see the first firetruck and cop car, but they speed by, not giving us a second thought. Hunter always remained one step ahead and the house wasn’t linked to him, no one would ever suspect us.

Hunter drives a little bit further before he promptly turns left, heading down an incredibly dark road and pulls over.

“Get out,” he orders on a growl, “Get out and bend the fuck over the hood.”

My eyes widen at the feral way he’s looking at me, at the hunger and need burning within his eyes.

I do as he commands, climbing from the car, knees shaking. I don’t bend though, I stand and I wait for him, watching as he slams the door and strides towards me with determined, heavy steps.

“I said bend,” He spins and forces me down, my chest pressed against the hood.

“Hunter,” I try.

“You send me crazy, Snow,” he growls, “Fucking insane!”

He’s not gentle as he tugs the waistband of my leggings down and then my underwear, exposing me to the cold. His hands smooth down my spine before he swipes his fingers through me, his movements punishing, working me up until I’m ready for him. My chest heaves with my breaths, the cold biting at my skin but I’m far from being cold.

Only when I’m wet and panting does he release himself, sliding one hand up my spine to hold the back of my neck as he shifts and lines himself up, pushing into me hard. I thump against the hood of the car, his groan echoing into the darkness around us.

“Shit,” He hisses, “Fuck, Snow, fuck.”

The main road is right ahead of us, cars and emergency service vehicles speed by, heading to the fire I just caused but he doesn’t seem to care. Doesn’t care we could be seconds away from being caught. He pounds into me, cock sliding in deep with each thrust.

“Fuck, I can’t, Snow,” he breathes, “I can’t stop.”

“It’s okay,” I pant, “Come for me.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he swears on a groan, fingers flexing on my neck, “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Yes,” I hiss, feeling myself almost there, almost at that edge except he slides in once more and stills, his groan filling the night as he empties himself before collapsing down onto my back. We breathe for a minute, him still seated inside and his come slipping down my legs. He kisses my back once before gently removing himself, helping to pull my trousers back up. The ache was unsatiated but having him undone, it was the sexiest thing, hearing those damn moans. My thighs tremble as I stand and kiss him, letting him guide me back to the car. I wince as I feel his wetness in my underwear, the stickiness against my skin.

His hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white as he drives us back. He doesn’t appear to be any less tense, any less worked up despite him fucking me over the hood of the car and when we get back to the hotel, he practically drags me through the lobby and to the bank of elevators. There must be something on his face warning people to steer clear because the people still awake give us both a wide berth, going as far as to not get into the same elevator as us.

When the doors close I’m quickly pressed against the wall, his tongue in my mouth, fingers in my hair.

“Crazy,” he murmurs.

“I should be worried violence turns you on this much,” I feel his smirk on my skin.

“I have some making up to do,” he whispers, “I think we’ll start in the shower.”

“It’s okay.”

He pulls away, “It is not. Let’s get one thing clear, Isobel, when we fuck, you will always finish and if you don’t, I will make you again, and again until you fucking realize I own this body and it’s orgasms. What I want, I will get. I want your screams and your moans, and I want your cunt clenching around my cock. Do you understand?”

I nod slowly, swallowing.

“Good girl,” he kisses me just as the doors open and he ushers me out, towards the door and our large hotel room beyond.

He does exactly as promised, guiding me into the shower where he proceeds to worship me like I was his queen. His mouth between my legs, fingers buried inside while I ride his face. And when I scream for him, he only proceeds to go at me harder, faster, but he doesn’t stop there. He fucks me in the bed, bringing me to that place once more, tasting my pleasure on his tongue.

“Everything will change tomorrow, Snow,” he tells me later that night when we’re both exhausted and spent, “Everything will be different.”

And for the first time, I believed him.