Page 25 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

I grab his face and kiss him hard. “Soon.”

He stares at me, rapidly trying to blink the hunger away.

“Let’s get everyone safe, and then, I’ll let you tie me up and do whatever you want.”

“You’ll do that?” Pix asks, shocked.

I shrug. “Of course. It will be hot and fun.”

Pix moans and squeezes my cock.

“You have to let go, Omega.”

He does so reluctantly and leads us back to the group. We don’t say anything, but his hot looks scorch my skin and leave me daydreaming of what’s coming.

Raptor

Ishove away from Sage, snatching up my clothes and pulling them on.

“Are you angry?”

I freeze, my shoulders stiffening as I stare at the forest in front of me. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I could kill him. Maybe.

Maybe I want him to hurt me.

“No, not angry. Not at you.”

And it’s true. I’m furious at myself, furious at us for being so dumb, for going to that place and getting hurt again, even when we all knew better.

I close my eyes, thinking about him again. Those familiar eyes, the way he’d looked at us like we were just things, just objects. That we had no chance of besting him. It wore us down. There was a long time, many, many years, where we did his bidding with no hope of escape, with no dreams of freedom.

“Do you know how it works with Father?” I ask Sage in sharp, bitter tones.

“No. I don’t.”

“Why hasn’t anyone asked?”

“Because no one wanted to drag you back into those memories. We care too much to do that.”

I peek at him, then look away, snowed under by the shame and guilt that has my anger burning stronger than a pyre.

“Father trains a person and makes them a killer. He is prolific because Father is not a single entity but many. He hires people who become as devoted to him as cultists. He calls them his Flock.”

Sage’s eyes widen.

“Everyone answers to The Father, but we are all a limb, a finger, a muscle. That’s what I am, nothing but a part of him. How can I be anything else?”

He grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. “You were and always will be more than what he made you.”

I stare at him, the words silencing the anger, leaving me feeling hollow and empty.

“Sage,” I whisper.

“He’s a monster. But monsters can be killed. He’s human, despite what he’s made you believe, despite how unstoppable he appears, Father is human, and if we can get close, we can make him bleed, and if he can bleed, well, my dearest love, he can bleed out.”

I can feel a bubble of anxiety that can only be from Merle. The others are pillars of strength and rage, different variations of it, but we’re all in agreement. We hate Father, and we want him dead. It’s the only way we will ever be free, ever be able to mend and be whole.

Sage is right.