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To making her mine.
Physically, she’s already mine. Our parent’s innocent and perfect daughter is no more. Now, she’s ruined and tainted. Imperfect, just like me. But that’s not enough. I want to own her in every fucking way, and I don’t care what it takes.
Tatum is beside me. She’s quiet and tense, her eyes wide as she looks out into the darkness. She doesn’t know what’s coming, not really. She thinks she does, but she’s wrong. She has no idea how deep this goes, how far I’m willing to take her. But she’ll learn.
Tonight, she’ll learn.
We’re at a secluded spot just outside the city, a place I found a long time ago, perfect for getting away. For escaping. It’s isolated, far from prying eyes, and the only sound is the distant hum of the highway and the rustle of leaves in the wind. The moon is high tonight, casting everything in an eerie, silvery light that makes the shadows seem deeper, more menacing.
Everything since what happened this morning has gone fucking perfectly, but as I look at her now, I can see it—the way the high is wearing off, the tension creeping back into her shoulders. The darkness is clouding her eyes again. She’s starting to slip away, and I can’t let that happen. Not tonight. Not after everything we’ve done.
I reach into my pocket, feeling for the small bag of powder with my fingers. She needs this, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. It’ll take the edge off and make everything smooth again. I want to see her like she was this morning—wild, free, and mine.
“Here,” I say, my voice low, coaxing. I pour a small bump onto the back of my hand, holding it out to her. “This will help, Tatum. I can tell you need it.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking between my hand and my face. I can see the battle raging inside her, the guilt, the desire, the need to numb the pain. She wants to be strong, to resist, but I know her better than that. I know how deep the hurt goes, how much she wants to escape it.
It’s a battle I’ve struggled with more times than I can count.
“Come on, Tatum,” I murmur, my tone gentle but insistent. “Just one more. For me.”
Finally, she caves. Her breath hitches as she leans in and parts her lips. She snorts the line off my hand, and I watch her closely, completely captivated by the way her pupils dilate, and her body relaxes almost instantly as the drug takes its hold. It’s a goddamn beautiful sight. Seeing her give in. Bearing witness to her as she just lets go of everything, for me. Her shoulders drop, the tension melting away, and she looks up at me with those wide, dark eyes, all the fear and doubt fading into the background.
“There you go, baby,” I whisper, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “Feel better now?”
She nods, a slight smile tugging at her lips, but it’s laced with something darker, something desperate. It’s like she’s clinging to the edge, and I’m the only thing keeping her from falling. I’ll keep her here, with me, on the edge of chaos, no matter what it fucking takes.
I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, tasting the salt of her skin feeling the warmth of her breath against my lips. “That’s my girl,” I murmur, knowing that as long as she’s with me, as long as she needs this—needs me—she’ll stay. “You trust me, right?”
“Yes,” she says, but it’s too soft, too uncertain.
“Say it again,” I demand, my tone hardening, making it clear this isn’t a fucking request.
“Yes, I trust you,” she says, stronger this time, but I can still hear the doubt. It’s okay. She’ll learn. She’ll fucking learn.
“Good,” I say, my lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Because tonight, you’re going to prove it.”
Her brow furrows in confusion, but she doesn’t ask questions. Not yet. She’s still too scared, too uncertain. I can work with that.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out the blade I brought for tonight. The knife is cold in my hand, the sharp edge gleaming in the moonlight. I see her eyes widen when she sees it, her breath hitching in her throat. She thinks she knows what’s coming, but she has no fucking idea. Tonight will be easy, but this is just the beginning of my plan.
This is just the start of my destruction of everything that holds her together. Everything that hides who she’s really meant to be.
“We’re going to do something,” I say, my voice calm, almost casual. “Something that’ll bond us forever. Something that’ll make you mine in a way even you can never escape.”
She stares at the knife, her face pale and eyes wide, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t run. She’s too far in now, too tangled up in me to break free. And she knows it. That’s the beauty of it.
“What… what are we doing?” she finally asks, her voice barely more than a whisper, but there's an edge to it, a tremor that wasn’t there before.
“You’ll see,” I say, stepping closer, the knife in one hand, my other reaching out to cup her cheek. Her skin is cold, but there’s a flush of heat beneath it, a sign of the adrenaline and the cocaine pumping through her veins. “But first, you need to understand something.”
“What?” she breathes, her eyes darting between mine, searching for answers for some kind of reassurance. She’s jittery and restless, the drugs heightening everything, making her pulse race and her breath quicken.
“That nothing fucking matters but us,” I say, my voice low and deadly serious. “Not the rules, not what’s right or wrong. None of it. The only thing that matters is you and me and what we do together. No one else fucking counts.”
She nods quickly, her pupils blown wide, the doubt still clinging to her but fighting against the high, against the need to trust me, to follow me into this darkness. I need to strip that away, and I need to show her that she belongs to me in every way that matters.
“You say you want this, Tatum,” I say, my thumb brushing over her lips, watching as her breath hitches, her eyes glazing over slightly. “But tonight, you’re going to prove it.”
