The Annihilator: Part 3 – Chapter 27

HE WAS WAITING FOR her when she entered the room, his elbows on his knees, his eyes on the door.

Looking at him, after the space she’d taken, everything she’d been holding together crumbled.

He was up and around her before she could blink, his arms holding her tight, his chest against her face, and she breathed him in, shaking, shivering, sobbing.

‘I’m so mad at you,’ she told him between hiccups.

‘I know, flamma,‘ he spoke quietly, his words against her hair. ‘I know.’

‘And I’m mad that your plan worked,’ she grumbled into his chest.

He pressed a soft kiss to her head, before pulling back, pressing an even softer one to her lips. ‘I don’t regret doing what I had to do for us to be here.’

‘Do you regret anything at all?’ she asked him, their eyes locking together.

‘I regret that you were hurt.’

That was all. But she didn’t know why she was surprised. She knew who he was, how he operated, how his system worked. Somehow, in the midst of his extreme and her extreme, they’d struck a balance—where he took from her what she gave and she took from him what he gave. She couldn’t forget that. But she was still mad, and she needed him to be mad, to work this anger out of herself in some way.

She pushed him away, going to the shower, and was aware of him following her, his eyes curious on her changing expressions. ‘I’m feeling too much right now,’ she told him, stripping her clothes. ‘So much I feel like I’m going to explode without figuring a thing out.’

He tilted his head to a side. ‘What are you feeling?’

She locked their eyes in the mirror’s reflection, provoking him. ‘Imagine that I’m leaving you.’ She saw his body stiffen. ‘Imagine that this is the last time you’ll touch me.’ His eyes blazed. ‘Imagine that you can’t do anything to stop it. Think of that, and how pissed you’d be. Would you even be angry?’

‘I don’t know if it’ll be anger,’ he stated softly. ‘But if that ever happened, there would be absolute annihilation.’

She shivered, her hands gripping the counter. She needed something, something to calm the tornado inside her, she didn’t know what, and she looked at him, begging him to understand and give it to her.

He came to stand behind her, his eyes steady on hers. ‘Trust me still?’

With everything she was feeling, everything that had unraveled over the last few hours, she looked at him. Stupid fucking heart, still trusted him.

Taking her silence for the answer it was, he took a step closer, coming to loom over her. ‘Trust me still?’

The question, asked again, only told her that he wanted her answer verbalized.

‘Yes,’ she told him. She did. Despite everything, she did.

A soft kiss pressed to her head. ‘Good girl.’

Before she could say another word, she was bent over the counter, her breasts pushed against the sink, her ass out as he held her down with one hand on the back of her neck.

His other hand rubbed her ass cheek softly, the callouses on his hand stroking against soft skin, before he smacked it.

She yelped, her heart pounding as she looked straight into the mirror, her eyes locking with his.

‘You will release everything inside you, flamma,‘ he commanded her, his voice low. ‘Every time my hand comes down, you will release whatever you’re holding onto, and you will give it to me. Understand?’

Her chin began to quiver. ‘Yes.’

Eyes locked with hers, his palm came down on her other cheek, harder than the first. She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes, imagining herself letting go. She could let go. She could be free. She knew it because she’d had it, and she could have it again. The past didn’t have any control over her anymore.

His hand came down again, and a cry left her unbidden. ‘I hate you for keeping the truth from me.’

He rubbed her rump, before smacking her, right above her thigh. That stung, but it felt so good. ‘I don’t think my brother will want me after he gets to know me. There’s… no way.’

As the words left her, she began to cry.

He didn’t say anything, letting her put it all out. When she quietened a bit, he spanked her again, stirring another well inside her.

‘I don’t want to go back into Xander’s life and destroy him.’

And so it went.

Over and over, until every single secret and every single thought she held onto was out, the weight of the burden blank from her mind, her sobbing as she broke down. After countless spanks, until her ass was on fire and her mind at rest, she felt him pick her up gently and carry her to the bedroom, holding her close as she cried into his neck, letting out everything, releasing everything, letting go of everything that was holding her down, at least for a while.

Crying, in his arms, she passed out.

***

She stirred awake to see him sitting with his laptop on the desk, looking at the screen in the darkness of the room, his face lit up by the glow from the monitor.

Turning, she wrapped the sheet around herself and padded over to him.

‘Come here,’ he spoke, opening his arms and letting her sit on his lap, caging her in as he turned her back to the screen, and kept working through some numbers.

She blinked, not understanding what she was looking at, but she let him work through it, semi-napping on him.

‘Remember when I told you about my friend who ran away?’ she asked him, feeling him still beneath her at the question.

‘Yes,’ he waited for her to continue.

She stared at the screen, remembering mindlessly. ‘The man she escaped from, he kept me with him for a few years. He… he was the first.’

He was still, utterly still, but remained silent.

‘He called me tonight.’

His hands were turning her around on his lap before she could blink, his devilish mismatched eyes intense on her. ‘Who?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know his name. But he said… he threatened to kill you, to kill my brother. He… said he wanted to keep me again.’ Her voice trembled on the last words, and his grip on her jaw tightened.

‘Not happening.’

Two words, spoken with such ferocity she felt it seep into her bones.

‘He’s in The Syndicate?’

She nodded. ‘I think so. He addressed me by my real name.’

He gazed at her for a long second. ‘Then you will have him at your mercy.’

She never, ever wanted to see him again.

Dainn pressed a kiss to her neck, turning her around to face the monitor. ‘Full disclosure—I found your friend who ran away.’

Lyla watched as he opened a folder, clicking on a photo. It blew up to show a beautiful girl, her eyes shining with happiness as she grinned at the camera. Lyla blinked, touching her hand to the face on the screen, remembering the girl who had left her behind. But she was happy.

‘Where is she?’ her voice cracked, her heart full for the little girl who had found a good life for herself.

A long pause in his reply made her turn her neck.

‘She died. The bald man killed her.’

Her hand dropped from the screen, her shoulders slumping. For the first time since the fire, she felt glad that he was already dead, because the coil of fury inside her made her want to murder him again. Fuck.

‘She was adopted by a family, but originally she had been the daughter of the Shadow Port mafia boss.’ The information rolled over her as he brought up an image of Morana, the girl with the glasses. ‘Morana Vitalio was replaced by her.’

Another photo came on, this one with Morana and a man holding her.

‘That’s your brother, Tristan,’ he told her, letting her soak their images.

‘I saw them that night, you know,’ she whispered, her eyes scanning as another photo took its place. ‘The night I tried to…’

‘I know. They were there that night following a lead. That’s what I tapped into.’

The photo changed, this time to include a young boy with the couple.

Her mouth parted, her eyes misting as she took in every single detail of his grown-up face. He was beautiful. So beautiful.

She wrapped her arms around herself as the photos changed, a slideshow of different shots of him, and Lyla took them all in, saving the precious visuals in her memory, her heart bursting with love and loss and happiness for him.

She burrowed into the solid body at her back, breathing though her mouth to control the flood of emotions inside her. He didn’t know what he had given her, didn’t know what he had done for her, for six years, day after day, night after night. For a man who said he didn’t feel, he had raised a boy and sent him to his family, looked over him from afar while keeping her safe throughout. He had stayed with her when she’d been broken and given her all the tools she needed to gather the pieces. He had glued the pieces together and kissed her scars, making her belong in a way her heart had hungered for so deeply.

For a man who said he didn’t feel, he sure loved her a fucking lot.

She turned her face to him, her heart in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

He said nothing, just held her, his eyes searching hers.

She pressed her lips to his and he took over, kissing her in the way she loved, in the way of claiming and owning and keeping.

And sitting in the arms of the devil she loved, not knowing what the future held for her, she felt hope. She felt safety. She felt love.

Whatever the future held, with him at her side, she would be okay.

They would be okay.