Chapter 18: His Angel: Chapter 18

Imagine my sanity exploding when I get to the room and Everly’s gone. The bed’s empty, sheets bunched like she fought her way out, and my pulse slams into my throat, rage roaring up my gut like a goddamn furnace.

I’m choking on air as I snatch the radio off the table, my grip so tight the plastic creaks.

“Talon, where the fuck is Everly?” My voice tears out, each word a jagged edge slicing through the quiet.

Static buzzes back, then a voice slips through. “Calm down, baby Del Rossa. Your girl’s just gone for a swim.”

I freeze. “Poppy?”

“I prefer Rabbit, you prick.” Her tone’s silk wrapped around a blade, like she’s grinning through the line.

My fist balls up, knuckles cracking, and I snarl, “Where’s Everly?”

“Outside by the pool. Chill, she’s fine.” Poppy’s voice lilts, teasing, but a sharpness lurks underneath.

“Thank fuck.” I exhale hard, air rushing out like I’ve been gut-punched, relief flooding my chest, but it’s a flicker, snuffed out fast.

“You might wanna haul ass there from the east side, though,” she adds, casually as if she’s picking lint off her shirt.

I’m already moving, boots slamming the hardwood. “Why?”

“Got a peeping pervert sniffing around.”

My blood ignites, wild, molten, every muscle locking tight as I barrel down the hall. “Someone’s watching her?”

“Uh-huh. One of ours—recognized the gear. Greedy bastard’s eyes all over your girl.” Poppy’s tone cuts deeper now, a razor’s edge in her calm. “Want me to pop him?”

“No.” I growl it out, voice thick with venom as I hit the stairs. “Keep your scope on him—don’t let him fucking twitch ’til I’m there.”

“Got it, boss man,” she quips, and I hear the faint click of her rifle adjusting. “Make it quick. I’m itching to pull the trigger.”

Adrenaline surges through me as I tear through the mansion, my mind a screaming storm of fury and possession. Each thud of my feet is a war drum, pounding out a dark, twisted beat I’ve danced to too many times.

The night air slams into me as I burst outside, cool against my flushed skin, but my blood’s boiling—hot, vicious, a need to rip and tear clawing at my veins. What dumb fuck dares to look at her like she’s meat on a hook?

The moon hangs fat and low, casting a silver sheen over the grounds. It’s too damn peaceful for the predator I’ve become.

There, lurking in the shadows near the pool, I spot him. And what do you fucking know, it’s Wyatt—the fresh-faced punk I almost killed once before, drooling over her like a goddamn degenerate.

He’s crouched behind the bushes, a black smear against the shimmering water, his eyes locked on Everly as she swims, wearing a yellow bikini tiny enough to call it a suggestion—barely there, entirely mine, and a middle finger to modesty.

Her skin glistens like a vision, her body cutting through the water like a blade wrapped in silk. That yellow bikini clings tightly, hugging her curves like it’s begging me to rip it off with my teeth. Each stroke pulls her arms taut, muscles flexing under that wet sheen, moonlight bouncing off her skin in a dance that’s got my cock twitching. Her hips roll with every kick, ass breaking the surface just enough to taunt—round, firm, a goddamn tease swaying in rhythm with the waves.

I stay back, unnoticed, glancing at Everly to see water streaming down her back, tracing the dip of her spine like it’s jealous of my hands, and her tits—fuck—press against that thin fabric, nipples pebbling under the cold, screaming for my mouth.

She’s a siren in motion, all fluid heat and dangerous grace, every inch of her a live wire sparking my blood.

And this fuck, Wyatt, is staring at her like it’s open season.

I move silently, lethally, feet whispering over the grass, closing the distance with a wolf’s precision. My heart doesn’t just pound; it rages, a battering ram smashing my ribs and control fraying to threads.

By the time I’m a breath away, my hands are weapons, fists itching for bone, fingers curling for the knife at my hip.

It’s when he reaches inside his pants that I finally lose my shit.

With a shadow’s speed, I strike, one hand clamps over his mouth, fingers digging into his ugly motherfucking face, muffling his gasp as I yank him back. The other draws my blade, cold steel kissing his throat, pressing in until his pulse jumps under the edge—wild, alive, and about to end.

His body jerks, muscles locking as the truth hits; he’s fucked, and I’m the devil cashing him out.

“You like watching her, huh?” My voice is a guttural snarl, low, venomous, the knife digging deeper, blood beading along the steel. “Think you can eyeball my woman like some filthy fucking rat?”

He mumbles against my hand, but I shove the blade harder, silencing him.

“Tell me, Wyatt, why’d you reach for your cock? Wanted to jerk off while watching her?” I hiss against his ear. “You think because you had an hour of small talk with her, you can make yourself come thinking about her?”

Jesus, the thought alone has my knuckles turning white around the hilt of my blade, my adrenaline spiking sharply like a beast momentarily chained.

The taste of rage is coppery, foul; it burns at the back of my throat, and I swallow against it. Wyatt’s grating, muffled pleas are barely more than a buzzing irritation.

Wyatt tries to break free, but I merely tighten my hold. “I got a sniper aiming at your motherfucking forehead right now. Run, and she’ll take you out.”

Right on time, Poppy’s voice crackles through the radio clipped to my belt. “Want me to take the shot? He’s squirming like a worm on a hook.”

“Hold off,” I mutter, not breaking my glare from Wyatt’s wide, panicked eyes. “This fucker’s mine.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she whines, but I hear the grin in it. “Make it pretty. I’m watching.”

I tighten my grip, his back against my chest, one of his arms locked under mine while I keep the knife steady against his windpipe.

“You think you can gawk at her like some sleazy teenager with a tiny dick?”

His eyes bulge, terror flashing, and I feel that dark thrill surge, the power over his life pumping through me like a drug.

“No one gets to lust after my woman. No man gets to even think of her in any way other than ‘she belongs to Isaia Del Rossa.’”

I rip my hand off his mouth and he gasps, a ragged plea spilling out.

“Please, boss, I didn’t—” but I cut it short, slamming the knife deep into his throat.

The blade bites flesh, a wet crunch as it tears through muscle and cartilage, hot blood gushing over my fingers. His body convulses, wild, useless, gurgles choking out as I twist the steel, carving a bloody path down then ripping it out with a sickening yet satisfying squelch before stabbing it into his eye socket.

“Fuck you,” I growl, wrenching the knife free, his body slumping as I drive it back into the other eye, blood splattering over my face. “You don’t look at her. You don’t breathe near her.” Blood slicks my hands, warm, thick, and I’m consumed with red-hot madness as I take the blade and start carving her name in his chest, slow, dragging it out like he can still feel it.

E-V-E-R-L-Y.

It’s jagged letters dripping red, a mark for hell to read.

I step back, chest heaving, and wipe the blade on my shirt, leaving his twitching corpse sprawled in the dirt—mauled, marked, a warning to any fucker who forgets who she belongs to.

“That’s what you get,” I mutter, spitting on his ruin, “for wanting what’s mine.”

Poppy’s voice crackles through the radio. “Well, shit. That was a masterpiece. I’m turned on.”

“Tell Davian he can thank me later,” I grunt, pocketing the knife, my eyes flicking to Everly—still swimming, oblivious, her strokes cutting smoothly through the water. “Anyone else out there?”

“Nope,” Poppy says, voice sharp now. “All clear.”

“Good. Keep your position, just in case.”

“Oh, come on. I told you I was turned on. This Rabbit needs to get eaten.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Right, because carving her name into his chest didn’t give you a hard-on,” she retorts, a teasing note in her voice.

“Enough, Poppy.”

“Killjoy,” she scoffs before clicking off.

I radio Talon, telling him there’s a clean-up on the east side of the house, then I take a moment to catch my breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from my veins. But the thrill’s still there, licking my skin with a devil’s tongue, seeping deep into my bones.

Pulling a cigarette from my pocket, I light it up and inhale the sharp smoke, letting it settle right at the bottom of my lungs. The world seems to tilt on its perilous axis as I exhale slowly, watching the curling tendrils of smoke disappear into the fading evening light.

My gaze flits back to Everly. She’s still oblivious to the violence, to the life I just took, flipped on her back and floating effortlessly, so at peace in a world that hardly allows it.

She says she understands, that she likes how possessive I am, that my obsession turns her on. But I don’t think she fully comprehends how black this darkness really is.

I don’t think I do either.