Chapter 105
This chapter contains descriptions of sexual abuse, physical and psychological violence, which may be extremely sensitive and disturbing to some readers. It is recommended that if the subject matter affects you, you consider skipping the chapter.
Lucian Moreau.
I did it.
After so much effort, I finally managed to separate them.
The Reaper… He’s here, right in front of me.
Having him this close, feeling the heat of his body, is more than just a triumph–it’s a conquest.
A trophy.
Seeing that dazed, intoxicated look in his eyes, dulled by drugs and alcohol, only makes me more excited.
-He’s trying to erase that boy from his mind, drowning himself in chaos, but little does he know… I can help
him rise again.
He doesn’t need that insecure little brat.
He needs me.
When I kissed his neck with soft, lingering touches, his scent was intoxicating–a mix of nicotine, alcohol, and something else… something addictive. Something that made me want to lick every inch of his skin and
drown in that smell.
He’s fucking gorgeous.
Touching him, having him here, even if just for a little while, was enough to send me into a frenzy.
His pupils were blown wide. Huge. Dark. Lost.
He was completely wasted, but even like this… he radiated power.
A power that both drew me in and terrified me.
Then, suddenly… he laughed.
A low, hoarse, bitter laugh, dripping with mockery.
I froze.
“Ah… You’re fucked,” he said, his tone slow, dark, almost lazy.
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For a second, I didn’t get it.
But then… His hand lifted, thumb brushing over my lips.
The touch was soft, but an electric jolt shot through me, making me shiver from head to toe.
1 leaned in, my body moving on its own, craving him.
I was going to kiss him.
I needed to kiss him.
Before I could react, the empty bottle in his hand smashed straight into my face.
The impact was brutal.
Glass collided with bone, and the pain hit like an explosion.
My body flew backward.
I hit the floor, dizzy and disoriented, and a warm stream slid down the side of my face.
Blood.
Hot, thick blood pouring from my forehead down to my jaw, dripping onto the filthy floor.
I looked up, dazed, and met his eyes.
So cold.
So empty.
So dangerous.
My heart raced.
My hands trembled.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t move.
He stared at me like I was nothing.
Less than nothing.
And then… the kick came.
Without warning.
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A direct blow to my stomach.
A doubled over, the air ripping from my lungs.
I coughed violently, nearly throwing up, the pain folding me in half.
Before I could catch my breath, his hand grabbed my hair, yanking it with savage force. The roots screamed, and a guttural cry tore from my throat.
“This is all your fault… for making my bunny fight with me,” he snarled, his voice thick with hate but disturbingly steady.
The slap that followed cracked across my face. The taste of blood flooded my mouth.
My cheek burned, throbbing with every heartbeat.
“You wanted me so badly… Instead of giving up, you messed with his insecurity. You made him doubt me.” His teeth clenched, each word heavy with fury.
He was unraveling. Wounded. And using my body as his release.
“H–He doesn’t deserve you…” I stammered, desperate, broken. “He doubted you… He didn’t believe…
My voice was weak, cracking between shallow breaths.
“He doesn’t deserve you, Reaper… I would never doubt you. Never.”
He tilted his head, giving a dry, humorless laugh.
“And who the fuck are you to say who deserves me?”
Then… he stomped on my leg.
Hard.
A sickening crack echoed through the room.
The scream that tore out of me was primal.
Shredding.
The pain lit every nerve on fire.
My chest heaved in agony.
Breathing became impossible.
My mind spiraled into panic.
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Everything spun.
Everything burned.
Everything suffocated.
My heart felt like it might burst through my ribs.
Anxiety.
Fear.
Despair.
How could I have been so stupid?
I thought I could control him.
That he’d notice me.
That maybe… Just maybe… He’d see me.
But he doesn’t see anyone.
Except for that damned newbie.
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