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ravengards-rogue · 9 months ago

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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thefallennightmare · 4 months ago

Text

The Coyotes Cry-Two

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: reverse harem/why chose in most parts of this story, violence, death, swearing, angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist, smut(very mature: P in V unprotected, masturbation, oral with male and female receiving, dry humping, knife play, blood play, period sex, Dom! Noah, mask play, choking, degradation, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, reverse harem which means one woman with multiple partners, sometimes together.)

Summary: Saoirse "Scar" McManus's life is turned upside down when her father and uncle marry her off to Noah Sebastian, the Ruler of The Concrete Jungle and Leader of OMNS, her old high school crush. A marriage based on secrets and lies comes back to destroy OMNS and The Concrete Jungle from within. When Scar has no choice but to step foot into the The Grey looking for help, she realizes the price of love comes in a nest full of darkness.

Authors Note: Well after four months, we FINALLY have an update! It is a very long one so buckle up. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning! This one probably wont be updated nearly as quick as JP will be. Maybe once JP is finished, I'll have more time to update this one!

*I do not own the rights/names of Connor and Murphy McManus. Or anyone mentioned to the Boondock Saints.

Tags[CLOSED]: @sammyjoeee @happi-goth @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @vinyardmauro @malice-ov-mercy @wheezybrenda @thisbicc @malerieee @mrs-zimmerman @srorgana1 @miserylovescompany1195-blog @embracethereaper42 @lizzieseveride @eclipseeetop @sundamariis @calleyx13 @krisslee18 @princessgh0st @aprosiacperson @xxrainstorm @ourdiabolikal-rapture @iamamatus @klutzy-kay24 @bngurngheart @idwt-money @rain-down-on-me @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715 @cncohshit @bleachampion @xserenax-13 @collidewiththesavannah @karenfranco @amelia-acero @tashka @themortaljessica @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @blueskylinesx @shadowseve @sorrowsofsilence @shilohrosechicken @flowery-mess @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @respectfulrebel @pathion @supersquirrel1996 @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelosmal @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @thatchickwiththecamera @whenthesummerdies @madomens

SCAR

Everything was so fucked.

How was my life bartered for a way of peace without my consent?

I understand it was something I had to do, for the family. But surely there had to be another way, right?

Wrong, if there was you wouldn’t be standing next to Noah Sebastian in an elevator as he was about to show you your new home. Not to mention, sharing a bed with him.

I nearly fell onto my ass when he told me that there was only one bedroom in his penthouse and we would be sharing a bed. I grumbled at my thoughts, crossing my arms over my chest; something Noah picked up on with a raised brow.

“Everything alright?”

“No,” I scoffed while facing him in the small elevator. “Everything is not alright. I have to get married to you without a choice, I have to share a bed with you, and not to mention, you just told me I have to work in your tattoo shop. In a matter of minutes, my entire life changed!”

My screechy voice echoed in the small confines of the elevator and Noah leaned against the back wall with a smirk on his face.

“You think this is funny?” I scoffed while crossing my arms over my chest. “My free will is gone and you’re laughing.”

Suddenly, his face sobered as he stood tall, with dark eyes staring down at me through even darker tendrils of hair.

“Let me make one thing clear, Scar. You have free will. You can come and go as you please but need to return. Just because we’re going to be married that doesn't mean you’re signing your life away.”

I blinked, mouth agape. “Scar?”

“I like it,” Noah shrugged as if he really didn’t see the problem with shortening my name.

“And if I don’t like it?” I still had my arms crossed but now I had my left hip popped out, showcasing the attitude I’ve had since birth.

Something flashed in his eyes just as the elevator doors behind me opened.

“Too bad, it stays,” he muttered before grabbing my bags and walking past me.

Turning slowly on my heels, I noticed that the elevator opened to a vast darkness, Noah’s footsteps echoing. I didn’t move, not even when he turned on the bright lights showcasing his large penthouse.

Our large penthouse, I corrected myself.

Slowly stepping off the elevator, I peered around my new surroundings. Currently, I was standing in the foyer, and to my left was a long hallway that I assumed led to the bedrooms. To my right was a wall that had two large bookcases built into it. I quickly made a mental note to browse Noah’s large collection and then took a few tentative steps into the open space before me.

It was an open concept of a kitchen and living room combo. To the left was the kitchen and I sucked in a breath at the gorgeous design. Black cabinets with gold fixtures. A kitchen island in the middle big enough to fit two Thanksgiving dinner spreads. I noticed that he didn’t have a dining room table, only eight stools that lined the kitchen island.

The living room was simple with a large forest green sectional couch, a fireplace, and a large television above it. Although it was still nicely decorated with fine things, there was still an empty feeling that crept over my bones.

“I find it hard to believe that this huge place only has one bedroom,” I said with my hands on my hips.

Noah, who was leaning his lower half onto the back of the couch with his arms over his chest, gave me a sly smirk.

“I never said there was only one bedroom.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. “So then why do I have to share a bed with you?”

He pushed himself up so he could look down at me. “There are three rooms. Besides our bedroom, one is my office, and the other is locked up. No one goes in there.”

“Are you hiding dead bodies in there?” I teased with a raised brow.

“No, that's what the room underneath the shop is for,” Noah deadpanned.

My lips parted, mimicking a fish, as the words died on my tongue. I knew given his line of work that Noah undoubtedly killed people. The rumors around town told me. I did my best to not be involved in my father's and uncle's nefarious dealings, but every so often my uncle would bring me in during one of their meetings, much to my father's dismay. My uncle thought I needed to know the inner workings of the Irish mob since I would take over one day. While my father didn’t want that for me. He wanted me to stay in the family home and continue to turn a blind eye to everything.

In the meetings I was brought in on, many of the men who worked under the McManus twins would tell them everything they knew about OMNS; which wasn’t a lot. Noah had done a fantastic job of keeping his dealings quiet, that was until recently when his friend Vincent showed up on his doorstep dead. After that, Noah made it his mission to find out who killed him by kidnapping my family's level drug dealers for information. None gave anything up until recently when Barry somehow managed to get OMNS a meeting with my family. If it wasn’t for that kid, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

I never fucking liked that kid.

Every time Noah’s name was brought up in those meetings, my stomach would flutter and my heart would hammer hard in my chest; exactly like in high school. From the moment my eyes landed on him freshman year, I knew that would sink his teeth in. We never ran in the same circles but when they did cross, I was rudely reminded by my mother of the reason why during graduation when she caught me staring at Noah from across the gym.

“Saorsie, stop ogling that boy. The Sebastian men are only trouble, he will hurt you the first chance he gets.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t ogling him, mom.”

She grasped my chin, forcing me to look at her. “I’m serious, stay away from Noah Sebastian. You’re too good for him, he would only lower your stature.”

I took those words my mom said to heart because I knew Noah didn’t feel the same. The only time he ever looked at me was with distaste because of our family's long-standing history. The McManus and Sebastian rivalry would be told in the history books one day but now it seemed as if the rivalry had ended with or upcoming unions.

To keep the peace.

“So the wedding.”

My eyes snapped up from admiring Noah’s long legs. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I figured you’d want to plan it since you didn’t get a say in the groom,” he jeered while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

“Honestly, I’d be fine going to the courthouse and signing the needed paperwork. Get this over with,” I admitted.

This made Noah’s usual stone face falter, his eyes softening. “If that’s what you want, Scar. I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

Clearing my throat, I stood up straighter after grabbing my bags. “Can you show me to our room? I’d like to unpack and go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah-,” Noah’s words were cut off by his phone ringing which he pulled out of his pants pocket.

His brows furrowed at the caller's I.D and when I peaked down at it, my heart dropped into my stomach.

“Who’s Lana?” I asked, my voice thick with jealousy.

His eyes flicked up from underneath his long lashes, a foxy smile playing on his lips.

Those lips that I’d been craving to taste ever since freshman year.

“She’s my assistant,” Noah informed.

“Does your assistant always text you this late?”

He brushed a loose strand of my fiery red hair behind my ear and chuckled. “Nothing is going on between Lana and I. She’s dating one of the artists in my shop. She was letting me know that my morning meeting was canceled.”

My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and I suddenly threw a thumb over my shoulder. “I think I’m going to get my stuff unpacked and head to bed.”

“Come on, I’ll show you-.”

Suddenly the elevator to his penthouse made a loud ding before the doors opened, revealing a man I didn’t recognize.

Noah, who was still towering over me, snapped his head up and his shoulders fell.

“Jesse? What’s going on?”

The man, Jesse, brushed back the curls from his face and sighed. “We need you at Limits. There’s a problem.”

My eyes bounced between the two men. “Limits?”

Noah ran a hand over the few hairs that peppered his jawline. “My nightclub.”

“I didn’t know you owned a nightclub,” I said.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Scar,” he shrugged with an indifferent look in his eyes before glancing back to Jesse. “Can you handle it? It’s why I made you the manager so you can deal with these kinds of things when I’m not there.”

Jesse hesitated for a long beat, his gaze flicking to me before settling on Noah. “You know I usually do, Noah. But there’s someone that is refusing to leave unless they talk to you.”

“Have Ash force them out,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes shut.

“It’s Vincent’s sister. She wants an update.”

His body went rigid, hands dropping to his sides, and I felt my heart drop slightly at that name.

Vincent.

Noah’s friend who was murdered.

“You should go,” I spoke softly after a few long moments of silence.

Eventually, Noah nodded and he caught the jacket Jesse threw him mid-air, slipping it over his thick shoulders.

“I won’t be long, I promise,” he assured me.

Suddenly, all of the anger I felt about my situation faded, knowing that there was someone somewhere else dealing with something worse; a murdered brother with no answers.

“I’ll be fine,” I gave him a small nod.

“Bedroom is the last door on the left. Make yourself at home.”

Noah and Jesse were gone in a flash, leaving me alone in the quiet penthouse. It was an eerie silence, the one that made your ears ring, and I let out a long steady breath. Even though this was my home now, it didn’t feel like it. Everything here felt like Noah, which wasn’t a bad thing. His scent lingered in the air and it brought a faint smile on my lips.

Snap out of it, Scarlett! Noah doesn't think of you that way.

My brain practically screamed at me and with a shake of my head, I gathered up my bags to find the last door on the left. My eyes darted into the open door of Noah’s office and briefly could see a large black desk, a computer set up that seemed to fit a gamer, and red neon lights.

I came to a halt in front of the closed door and curiosity peaked in my mind so I tried the door knob.

Locked.

“What the hell are you hiding, Noah,” I muttered to myself before finally reaching the last door on the left.

Now there was resistance filling my veins, making me unable to cross the threshold into the bedroom. While I was interested in seeing how Noah had decorated the bedroom, I was nervous because it would mean that everything was about to become real.

The second I stepped into that room and unpacked my things, this marriage was going to happen.

Before I could make my final decision on whether to run or stay, my phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Noah Sebastian: Hi, it’s Noah. I wanted to let you know that I cleared out some space in the closet and the bathroom for your things. I mean it when I said make yourself at home, Scar. What’s mine is yours.

I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my lips while I replied.

Me: I know it’s you, Noah. I’ve had your number saved since high school.

Before I could pocket my phone, a new text came through.

Noah Sebastian: You had it saved? I thought for sure my number would have been blocked.

Me: Tell me what’s in the locked room and I won’t consider blocking your number.

Noah Sebastian: Not a chance, Scar.

Rolling my eyes, I pocketed my phone and gathered up all my courage with a deep breath before walking into the large bedroom.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Who needs this much space for one person?”

The king size bed was directly in the middle of the room, up against a wall painted black. On either side of the bed were end tables, each with their own lamp. There were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle and now, with the late evening, it casted the room in a glow of moonlight.

There was a fireplace and what I thought was a picture above turned out to be one of those televisions that you were able to use like a picture frame. It was of some abstract colors, nothing that seemed to make sense to the human eye.

The hardwood floors creaked as I walked farther into the bedroom, noticing that there were clear walls where the fireplace was, showing the bathroom on the other side. I could see straight into the shower and bathtub from my spot in the bedroom.

On the other end of the room was a little sitting corner, made up of a long leather couch and two chairs.

The walk in closet was behind the couch and when I stepped inside, I let out a choked gasp.

“This closet is bigger than my bedroom at home,” I shook my head in disbelief.

Noah was true to his word.

There was more than half of the closet space empty, his clothes and shoes only taking up a small section of the closet.

With a sigh, I went about unpacking all of my things, spending a few hours arranging my clothes by types of shirts and pants. Shoes by heels or flats. Jewelry by necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

Rings.

Glancing down at my bare left hand, I tried to envision how it would look with a wedding ring and I couldn’t help but shudder. Everything was happening so fast and I didn’t even get the chance to let the news settle in yet that this whole arrangement was made without my consent.

Carrying my bag full of toiletries over to the even larger bathroom, I made a mental note to take a very long soak in the deep jacuzzi bathtub as I went about putting everything in its place. There were two sinks and with Noah already taking over the one on the left, I chose the one on the right.

As I was about to leave the bathroom, I caught sight of Noah’s cologne and pursed my lips.

Sauvage by Dior.

After spraying a quick spritz on my sweater, I went back into the closet to put away my suitcases. There was a small area in the far back that took a few finessing to make them fit but it caused something to fall off of a shelf next to me.

Miracle High School. 2013-2014.

It was Noah’s highschool yearbook.

“I haven’t seen one of these in so long,” I said while kneeling on the floor of the closet, opening the book in my lap.

Familiar faces stared back at me as I slowly flipped through it but came to a stop at one picture.

Me.

I was with my old group of friends, most of whom I didn’t talk to anymore, and the smile on my face was so fake. I thought I was happy back then, the facade I put on tricked even me. But after I graduated, I realized how much of a liar I had been. I had to put on this show of the privileged rich girl to appease my mother when in fact, I hated who I was. I despised being in the popular group and desperately wanted to hang out with the artsy kids because that's where I felt my heart deserved to be.

Just as I was about to flip the page, something else caught my eye; a written note next to my picture.

One look at your eyes and I cave in. One taste of the life now I crave it. So give me something beautiful. So give me something else. I need another miracle. I really need some help, I need a miracle.

I frowned, feeling my heart sink to the depths of my stomach, and looked for the picture on the next page.

Noah Sebastian.

Back in highschool, his hair was longer, down to the middle of his back. He did have tattoos, not as many as he did now, but the snake and apple tattoo on his neck poked out from the collar of his shirt. It was customary that all seniors took professional pictures for their yearbook photos but that wasn’t who Noah was.

His senior picture was one of him sitting in a computer chair with a gaming headset on and those adorable gold round glasses while throwing up the peace sign; showcasing those hand tattoos I spent countless hours staring at during our history class together.

Slowly closing the book, I set it back in its place on the highest self before leaving the closet. With a quick glance at my phone, I noticed it was nearing nine in the evening and even though I was exhausted, my stomach growling reminded me that I skipped dinner earlier.

Once back in the large kitchen, I found the remote for the television and turned it on. I had to flip through the channels until finally landing on The Crow and then went about searching the cabinets and fridge for food.

“Does this man not eat?” I groaned when I saw how bare everything was.

Me: You have nothing to eat in this big ass penthouse.

I expected Noah not to text back right away, figuring he was busy dealing with what was happening over at Limits, so when my phone buzzed a few seconds after I sent the message, my heart fluttered.

Noah Sebastian: What are you in the mood for? Indian? Italian? Greek?

You.

Shaking the thought from my head, I typed out my reply.

Me: I’ll just run out and pick something up.

Before I could even lock my phone, Noah’s response appeared on screen.

Noah Sebastian: The Concrete Jungle is not safe at night. Please stay inside. I’ll order whatever you want. My treat.

Pursing my lips, I glanced up to the window, seeing the tall buildings outside, and thought about it for a moment. The Concrete Jungle was Noah’s domain, he created it. But if he said it was dangerous in the dark, I had to believe him.

Me: Greek. One gyro. Hold the veggies. Extra feta cheese and tzatziki sauce.

Me: Large fries and a Dr. Pepper.

Me: We also can’t live off of fast food every day. How can I cook something with one cracked egg, baking soda, and stale ass bread?

While I waited for his reply, I decided to snoop around the penthouse. Off of the kitchen was his laundry room and for a moment, I thought about switching his loads but decided that I should leave it. A guy like him had someone come clean and do his laundry. Just as I was about to take a shower, my phone went off from its spot on the bathroom counter.

Noah Sebastian: I’ve made more with less. But we can go shopping tomorrow, you can get whatever you like.

I thought about replying with a witty remark but knowing that he was probably dealing with something deep at Limits, I decided against it.

Me: You’re going to regret saying that.

Noah Sebastian: So far, when it comes to you I haven’t regretted anything.

My heart jumped in my throat as I read those words a few times over and with a sigh, I locked my phone. I didn’t bother asking him when he would get back because I had a feeling whatever was happening, it wasn’t something that was considered a quick chat.

By the time I was dressed in my pajamas, there was a loud buzzing coming from the elevator of the penthouse. For some reason, there was a fear that filled me from being here alone and not knowing who was slowly rising up the elevator.

Me: Were you expecting company? I think someone rang the buzzer for the elevator.

My bare feet padded down the long hallway and once I stood in front of the elevator, my heart began to beat wildly. I wasn’t exactly dressed for company, wearing a pair of white cotton shorts and a loose tank top.

Noah Sebastian: It’s your food, Scar.

Oh.

Me: Oh, right.

I wasn’t sure why I was so on edge about the possibility of someone coming into Noah’s penthouse without me knowing. Maybe it was because no one knew about our arrangement so it could have been a late night fuck buddy? Maybe it was because Noah was one of the most feared mafia bosses and ruled the Concrete Jungle so someone was coming to get their revenge.

Noah Sebastian: No one can come upstairs without the code. The delivery driver left your food with Gary, the doorman. He’s been working at OMNS Legacy Villas for years and he’s the only one with the code. You can trust him.

I snorted at that word; trust. There were only two people in my life I could trust and they sold me off for a peace treaty.

Me: Trust isn’t a word that’s in my vocabulary.

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a paper bag in the middle of it. With a quick swipe, the scent of Greek food tickled my nostrils and my stomach grumbled to life. I spread everything out on the large kitchen island and went about eating in silence while watching the movie. It wasn’t until I noticed the time on the large clock on the far end of the wall that it was almost eleven in the evening and without a new text from Noah, I thought about texting him but figured I’d be bothering him.

Once I cleaned up my mess from dinner, I stood in front of the large windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle. Bright lights bathed over the dirty streets, littered with not only trash but crime as well. On the far end of the corner, I watched as a drug deal went down followed by an attempt at a carjacking. With the angle of how high up the penthouse was, I could see down to Under The Right Lights Tattoo; closed up for the night.

“How did I go from studying animal biology to working in a tattoo shop?” I grumbled to myself while pushing off of the windows.

“Talking to yourself?”

Whirling around, I saw Noah standing in the middle of the living room with his hair a disheveled mess and blood splatter over his shirt. I blinked rapidly, trying to assess the situation in front of me.

“I-,” I pointed to the elevator. “I didn't hear you come up.”

Noah had his hands hiding in the pockets of his black dress slacks and I couldn’t help but picture how they were covered in blood.

“I took the back staircase,” he shrugged before gliding over to the kitchen and popping a few of my leftover fries in his mouth.

I shifted on my feet, watching how unbothered he was.

“You have a back staircase?”

Noah’s eyes flashed to me. “We have a back staircase for times like this. I can’t exactly walk through the lobby looking like this.”

“Right,” I pursed my lips while nodding.

A weird silence fell between us, I was unsure what to do or say, so instead I continued to stand there watching him as he watched me with his nostrils flaring.

“Why do I smell my cologne?”

With a red hue covering my pale skin tone, I cleared my throat. “How did it go at Limits? Get everything sorted out?”

Something flashed in the darkness of his eyes as they flicked over my body. “Are you unpacked?”

“No, we’re not doing that,” I said while stepping closer to the kitchen island so I could stand across from him.

It created a barrier between us.

“Do what?” Noah asked while leaning his long arms over the edge of it.

I did my best not to gawk at his muscles as they rippled and the way the tattoos just seemed to fit him.

“If we’re going to be married, you’re not going to hide anything from me. I grew up in this life, Noah. You don’t need to keep me away from it.”

A sly smile spread to his lips. “We are getting married, Scar. There’s no if.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not asking to be a leader next to you but all I want is honesty.”

Those almond eyes watched me for another long beat before he gave a curt nod.

“Tonight went south; fast.”

I pulled out a stool to take a seat, resting my elbows on the counter. “Were you able to give Vincent’s sister any answers?”

“No,” Noah pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “When I told her the only information I have is that someone in the Irish mafia killed him, she wouldn’t listen. She’s insistent that it’s the Italians.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

I leaned back into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest which made my breasts perk up over the top of my shirt; something Noah tracked intently with his eyes.

“The Italians haven't stepped foot in your or my territory in almost a decade. They know it would start a war,” I explained.

“You seem to know a lot,” he raised a brow, still standing across from me.

“While my father did his best to keep me out of it, my uncle constantly brought me into meetings. He wanted me to take over when they’re gone,” I said.

“Well, Vincent’s sister surprised all of us when she told us she had some Italian tied up in her trunk,” Noah grabbed water from the fridge, popping it open with an attractive ease.

My eyes doubled. “How did she manage that?”

“No fucking idea. This guy had no ties to the mob, nothing. So I had to pay him a lot of money to keep quiet,” Noah said with a grimace on his face.

“Where did the blood come from?” I pointed to his shirt.

That earned a slight chuckle from him. “Fucker had a nose bleed when I tried to scare him off. All over my good shirt.”

Noah’s words prompted him to slip into the laundry room off the kitchen and return with a basket full of his clothes. As he spread them out on the large counter, I watched in surprise when he began folding them.

“Is it the housekeepers' day off tomorrow?” I joked.

“No housekeeper. I do all the cleaning and cooking,” he informed me.

Well don’t I feel like a judgemental asshole.

Drumming my fingers along the marble, I motioned to the bedroom. “I’m going to head to bed, since we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Noah paused the folding so he could gaze up at me through his long lashes.

“Noon at the courthouse. Are you fine with going out to Limits for a small celebration? The guys were adamant on it.”

I shrugged while hopping off the stool. “That’s fine, I guess. Gives me a reason to get all dolled up.

“I’m going to finish up the laundry then go into the shower. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Noah smiled.

My heart fluttered in my chest at the sight of it so all I did was nod before retreating down the long hallway towards the bedroom.

Even though it was a comfortable bed, I found it hard to sink into the black sheets because of the new place. Any time I slept away from home, it was a restless night. My brain couldn’t calm down and tell myself that I was safe. So I lay there with the forest green blanket pulled to my chin and eyes screwed shut hoping it would help the sleep take me.

Noah’s quiet footsteps echoed on the hardwood as he stalked inside of the bedroom. I watched as he disappeared into the closet and reemerged with a pair of pajama pants. The confidence that radiated off of him as he stepped inside the bathroom was one that made anyone envious. Due to the window that peered into the bathroom, I could see Noah beginning to strip out of his clothes, oh so slowly as if he knew I was watching him. He didn’t bother to turn on the bathroom light, the moonlight breaking through the windows casting him in an aura made for the Gods.

I sucked in a breath when he stepped into the large shower, his large back and perk ass on display for my eyes to drink in. The large Jesus portrait tattoo that lined the entirety of his back glistened as the water droplets fell down to the swell of his ass.

“A Thiarna cuidigh liom,” I groaned while dragging a hand down my face.

I was supposed to be upset with this arrangement and I probably would have been if my future groom wasn’t built the way Noah Sebastian was.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve had a huge crush on him since freshman year.

Grumbling at the voice in my head, I forced myself to face the other way in bed in an attempt to get some sleep. While floating in and out of consciousness, I swore I heard the softest melody emanating from the walls of the bedroom. It wrapped around me like a blanket, cradling me with endless comfort, and I felt every worry slip through my fingertips. The weight shifted slightly to pull me in closer but did nothing to disturb the comfort.

NOAH

My knee bounced with so much agitation, I feared it shook the entire penthouse. I sat in my computer chair with my fingers steepeled underneath my chin, memories of earlier replaying in my mind on a constant fucking loop.

The slight hesitation in the ballpoint of the pen before she signed her name on the marriage certificate.

I knew Scarlett wasn’t too fond of this arrangement but there was a part of me that wasn’t expecting the hesitation, especially after last night.

“Scar?” I asked, just above a whisper.

Her sleeping form held the pillow close to her chest but I frowned, not getting into bed yet. She was asleep in my spot. I chewed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not to wake her because I slept in that spot every single night for the last eight years of living in this penthouse.

But standing there at the end of my bed, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath and the soft snores emanating from her plump lips made everything I’d formally known change.

I slipped into bed behind her with every intention of lying opposite of her but almost immediately, her hand found my bicep in a soft embrace and I vowed not to move at all that night. It was a simple touch but enough to make my heart race.

It was foolish to think that it meant something. Scarlett didn’t feel the same, she’d made it clear that she was here against her will. The first chance she had, she would take it to run off with someone more qualified for her love. It didn’t matter for me to try because I’d never been worthy of Saiorse Scarlett McManus.

Saiorse Scarlett McManus-Sebastian.

I glanced down to my left hand, the black band a sight I was still getting used to. I wore rings all the time, just never on that finger. While she had been getting ready for tonight, I had Matt run to the best jewelry store in the Concrete Jungle to pick up the sets of rings I had put a rush order on. My ring wasn’t anything special, and to be honest neither was Scar’s. Due to the short time frame, I had to make due with what I could. A simple gold band with a small marquise diamond. I knew it wasn’t her style but for now, until I could get her something better later on, this would be fine.

The small velvet box weighed heavy in the pocket of my pants and I knew if I didn’t give it to her soon, it would burn a hole.

A soft knock at my office door pulled me from my thoughts and when I peered over the computer at who stood in the doorway, my heart felt heavy in my chest. Scar stood there with her hands behind her back, almost shy as I drank in her appearance.

Her red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing the sharpness of her cheekbones.

Her make up was minimal but dark enough to make her green iris shine bright.

The dress she wore managed to hug her figure perfectly. It was a deep olive color that stood out against the paleness of her freckles skin and cut low enough at her breasts that it didn’t leave too much to the imagination but somehow covered her modestly. My gaze traveled up the slit on the dress where her toned legs poked through.

“Noah?”

I snapped my eyes up to her face, a low hum rumbling in my chest. “Yea?”

“Is this alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I frowned.

Scar shrugged and in that moment, I could tell by the pain she held behind her smile that she was struggling with something internally.

“It’s stupid,” she sighed, ready to leave the room until I grabbed her hand.

“Hey,” my voice was soft. “Nothing you say is stupid, alright?”

Those emerald eyes bounced between mine. “With Cory, he didn’t like me wearing things like this.”

The ex.

“You can wear whatever you’re comfortable with,” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, electricity shooting through my system before reluctantly dropping it.

Scar cleared her throat before rubbing her palms on the side of her silk dress and motioning to me. “Ready to go?”

I peered down to my black pants and plain black shirt, suddenly self conscious I wasn’t dressed up enough for her.

“I can change if it’s not-.”

“No!” She said quickly before catching herself. “You look good.”

A sly smirk came to my lips and with this sudden surge of confidence I pulled out the velvet box from my pocket and heard Scar suck in a breath. The prior nerves were back and I couldn’t stop the way my hands shook as I opened it.

“It’s not much,” I sighed. “Given I had less than twenty four hours to get you a ring, this was the best I could do.”

Scar didn’t say anything as her bright eyes watched me slip the ring on her left hand.

It may have been small but it fit her like a glove.

“It’s fine, Noah,” she reassured me with a quick smile. “I’m not into gaudy and unnecessarily huge rings.”

We stood there in the ever growing silence of my office, the roaring flames from the fireplace the only thing that eased my worries. The orange hues of the fire casted Scar in a golden halo, the sight of the angel in front of me enough to still my heart.

Angel.

“An-.”

“Noah!”

Both mine and Scar’s head snapped over to the hallway right outside the door to my office, seeing Matt standing there.

“Everything alright?” I asked, knowing the panicked look in his eyes.

They shifted to Scar’s where they lingered for a moment too long.

“Matt,” I called his name softly but with enough force; a warning.

“Sorry,” he shifted on his feet. “There’s an issue downstairs in the shop. A client that won’t leave.”

My shoulders fell with an exaggerated groan. “Can’t you handle it?

He rolled his eyes, almost insulted that I doubted his ability. “You know I have no problem with that but they’re not here for us.”

My brow peaked. “Then who are they here for?”

Matt’s eyes darted to Scar who pointed at herself, dumbfounded. “Me?”

“It’s your dad and Uncle. They’re here with some asshat named Cory, who is the one refusing to leave.”

The all too familiar feeling of anger and jealousy festered low in my gut at hearing not only where her father and uncle downstairs in my shop, but so was the asshole ex.

“What are they doing here?” I asked her, trying hard to keep my voice calm.

She shrugged. “I have no idea! I talked to my dad earlier and told him that the papers were signed. He said congratulations and he’ll send a gift at some point.”

Rubbing a hand on my jaw, I gave a curt nod urging Matt to lead the way. The heels of Sacr’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she followed behind me. The ride down the elevator was quiet, filled with my deep and even breathing. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed a few things.

Matt’s eyes darted over to Scar, lingering on the side of her face.

Scar played with the new ring on her finger while she muttered something to herself. Something plagued her mind, it was clear in the way her shoulders were slumped and something continued to twitch in her cheek.

“Did you want me to handle him?” I asked once the elevator stopped at my shop.

Her head tilted up to me, my question lingering in her mind. I found myself getting lost in the greens of her eyes, swimming in the pool of the gold specks in them.

“No. It’s probably better I do,” she sighed.

When the elevator doors opened revealing the closed tattoo shop, I extended an arm to let her walk ahead. We walked down the back hallway, passing my office, the gym, and bathrooms before the sight of all of the closed down booths appeared. On the other side of the front counter stood the McManus brothers and Cory, who was red in the face due to screaming about something.

“She was mine!”

“Calm down, son,” Conner McManus lit a cigarette, puffing out the smoke.

“You can’t smoke in here,” I said with a stern tone.

His dark eyes snapped over to me before tossing down the cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot.

“Cory, what are you doing here?” Scar asked after her father left a soft kiss to the side of her head in greeting.

“Your dad told me you’re married?”

I took a deep breath, trying to let Scar handle this on her own, but both Matt and I flanked behind her; just in case.

The McManus brothers shared a look before Conner threw a thumb over his shoulder. “He showed up at our place drunk rambling about wanting to see Saorise so we brought him here. He’s your problem now.”

“Congratulations on your nuptials. Let’s hope for a time of peace,” Murphy reminded, giving a small smile to his daughter.

With a nod, I dismissed them from my shop and soon it was Cory alone with the three of us.

“I told you I was to be married off,” Scar’s brows furrowed. “I called you earlier this week to tell you and your exact words were,"What do you want me to do about it?””

Cory chuckled darkly. “I thought you were fucking with me to get back at me for Tory.”

She flinched. “Tory? What does Tory have to do with anything?”

Cory held a bottle of vodka loosely between his fingers before bringing it to his lips, downing the rest of it in one go.

“Because I fucked her,” he replied while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I took a large step towards him, not being able to hold back my anger any longer, but Scar’s soft gasp halted me.

“Yo-You what?”

Cory snorted when he took in the look of hurt on her face. “I mean, it wasn’t anything serious. Just a good fuck, something to pass the time while you were in school.”

My hands shook at my sides, something Matt noticed because he rested a hand on my shoulder.

“She wants to handle it,” he uttered in my ear, reminding me.

I snapped my eyes over to him but it did nothing to deter the hand on my shoulder. The gun in the holster of my pants began to get heavy. I kept a hard gaze over Scar’s head, directly at Cory, who seemed unphased by the scene he was beginning to create.

“You fucked Tory?”

Scar’s voice and face were unreadable which caused me great panic. I wasn’t sure how she would react or if this news even bothered her. I knew they didn’t date long and according to my intel it didn’t seem to mean much. But even so, finding out you’ve been cheated on during your relationship hurts.

Cory snickered at the distressed look on Scar’s face. “You have no right to act like this, Saorise. You married another man.”

Her eyes flicked over to me but mine never left his face, watching him through the thin slits.

“I didn’t have a choice! My father and Uncle made me. If I did have a choice, I would have moved far away from here years ago,” she sneered.

My heart sank low and my shoulders fell slightly when I gazed down at her. Deep down, I knew she still wasn’t happy about our situation but to hear her continue repeating it cut deep. It was like I was in highschool all over again, fawning over the popular girl who didn’t bat an eye.

“I was going to marry you, Saorise. I had a ring picked out,” the bottle slipped from Cory’s fingers and clattered to the ground at our feet; the leftover alcohol splashing on my shoes.

I grumbled in displeasure.

“Was that before or after you fucked Tory?” Scar took a step towards him.

“Scar,” I warned.

“Scar? What the fuck kind of name is that? Her name is Saoirse,” Cory laid a hand on my shoulder, trying to push me.

Ultimately failing as I barely moved. My veins were filled with hurt from her constant reminders that she didn’t want to be married to me but now, I was filled with sheer anger.

“We call her Scar,” I informed him through gritted teeth.

Cory rolled his eyes. “You guys are all fucked up. I’ve heard the rumors about OMNS. You think you can keep Saoirse safe from that?”

Matt took a large step toward him but was halted with my hand to his chest, both of us sharing a look; one that we’ve shared many times before.

“Take Scar upstairs,” my voice was low and even.

Some would say it even scared them.

Matt gave a curt nod and gently grabbed her elbow but she ripped it from his grasp, those green eyes shooting daggers into me.

“Excuse me? What happened to me handling it?”

I ignored her, letting my stubborn side win, and motioned towards Cory all while keeping my hands in my pockets. “You can leave through the same door you stepped through.”

“Fuck you!” He spat, now pushing me in my chest with both hands, causing me to stumble slightly. “Saoirse is mine! You can’t just fucking take her because you signed some bullshit paper agreement with her father.”

My left brow raised. “Last time I checked, a marriage certificate isn’t a bull shit paper agreement.”

“Noah!” Scar stepped in front of me, blocking my path to Cory. “I told you I can handle this myself.”

“Then why is he still here? Did you invite him?” I asked, eyes flicking down to her and doing my best to keep my composure.

“Fuck off!” She stomped her foot, showing how angry she was getting.

I had to admit, it was kind of cute seeing her bratty side come out.

“You said it yourself you won’t dictate what I do in this marriage. I am my own person.”

The way she said marriage caused something to stir low in my gut and I knew it wasn’t anything good. That all too familiar feeling of my hands shaking in my pockets and my heart beat wildly in my chest usually ended in one way.

Death.

Matt knew this. He’d been by my side since the early days and he’d seen first hand what happened to the people that were on the receiving end of it.

“Alright, time to go,” Matt said before picking up Scar, tossing her over his shoulder.

“You mother fucker! Put me down!” She thrashed in his arm, her no match for his strength.

As her screams faded down the hall towards the elevator, I looked over my shoulder to call back to them.

“Keep it up, Scar. Matt has permission to smack that pretty little ass.”

They stood in the middle of the elevator, her still thrashing about on his shoulder, so Matt gave a wicked smirk with a wink just before the doors shut.

“It’s not even worth it, man. Her holes aren’t even that fuckable.”

My eye snapped back to Cory, who was slightly swaying on his feet, and now one hand rested behind my back to graze over the handle of my gun. My voice wavered only slightly, going undetected by the drunk man in front of me.

“What did you just say?”

He hiccuped, the vodka now settling in his bloodstream. “Her cunt isn’t that great. She just lies there like a board. You’re better off fucking a pillow.”

I swallowed thickly with a finger now on the trigger. All I could see was red.

Blood.

His blood staining the floor of the underground and hearing his pleas of sorrow as I dragged the knife across the flabby flesh of his throat.

“You should have come to me to talk about marrying her!” He poked a weak finger to my chest. “She’s mine.”

I blinked for a long moment, letting out an even longer deep breath in the exact exercises my therapist taught me. I couldn’t do anything up here due to the cameras I had littered throughout so instead, I cleared my throat while extending a hand behind me.

“We’ll, why don’t we step into my office to work out a deal,” I suggested with a playful smirk.

Cory smiled with triumph and straightened out his polo. “The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

The knife hidden in my sock itched with the need to slice flesh.

SCAR

“You mother fucker!” I pounded on Matt’s broad back as we rode the elevator back up to the penthouse.

“Try all you want, Saoirse. But did you forget Noah’s warning?” He teased me.

My face was directly in sight with his round ass and with a playful smirk, I pinched it, causing him to yelp out and dropping me to my feet.

“Did you just pinch my ass?” He asked dumbfounded while rubbing the spot I pinched.

I shrugged. “It was right in front of my face. I can't help it if you've got a nice ass.”

His face flinched, not expecting my boldness. “Noah definitely has his hands full with you.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave him my back to finish the ride up in silence. I could feel him behind me, eyes burning over my entire body, and my tough resolve began to slowly slip away. The day had gone straight to hell the second I woke up and found myself wrapped in Noah’s warm embrace. I spent an excruciating long moment tracing over the tattoos on his chest with my eyes, burning them into memory.

Ever since I watched him in the shower last night, I felt this undeniable burn between my legs that needed to be touched, licked, bite, and fucked. Not even the moment in the shower this afternoon while Noah was running a few errands before our courthouse appointment extinguished this burn.

When I cried out his name as my orgasm engulfed me, it made the flames burn higher.

“You seem on edge,” Matt’s deep voice pulled me from thoughts of Noah naked.

“I wonder why,” I grumbled under my breath.

He chuckled, the sound bringing an ease to the tension around us.

“Noah will be fine,” he assured me.

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” I admitted while stepping off the elevator when it opened to the penthouse.

Turning on my heels, I noticed Matt still standing in the elevator, unmoving.

“Are you not going to come inside and watch me?” I teased.

His eyes raked over me from underneath his hat, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

“Tempting. But I’ve got other things to do.”

I didn’t have time to think of what that other thing was before the doors shut, leaving me alone in the large penthouse. I continued to grumble obscenities under my breath as I stalked towards the bedroom, ready to change into a pair of sweats and spending the rest of this awful day on the couch reading a book.

And not think of your husband’s ass in the shower.

Groaning at the little voice in my head, I threw on a pair of sweats, not bothering to take my makeup off, and dragged my feet down the long hallway again to the large bookshelves that were right next to the elevator. Noah had a large collection, might as well help myself to one or two.

Black fingernails skimmed over the spines of the large collection, humming a soft tune to myself, until one caught my eye.

A New World.

When I went to pull it out, excited to read my favorite book, it wouldn’t budge. Instead, the bookshelf began to creak and groan before slowly opening into the wall.

“No fucking way,” I scoffed. “He would have a secret door that leads to a dark staircase.”

I thought about it for a moment; go down the stairs to see where it led or play dumb to the fact that I ever saw it. But suddenly, something from yesterday popped in my brain.

“I took the back staircase.”

Noah made it a point to say that he takes this staircase when he’s unable to walk through the lobby of the penthouse. Meaning wherever his staircase led, it was meant to be hidden.

“Fuck it,” I muttered with a shrug before taking the stairs, one step at a time.

It was lit with a muted yellow glow so I had a hand on the wall to guide me in case I were to tumble down. With each tentative step, voices grew closer and closer until I heard what sounded like flesh on flesh and then pained cries.

When my footsteps halted at the bottom of the staircase, I felt my heart jump into my throat and stomach fall out of my ass with the sight in front of me.

“What the fuck!”

NOAH

“Wait please!”

Ignoring the pathetic cries falling from Cory’s mouth, I sunk the knife deeper into the already gaping wound in his thigh, twisting and turning it in all different directions. The sound of blood squelching brought a sinister smile to my face as I watched the sheer pain on his face. Tendrils of my dark hair fell into my eyes but I didn’t dare brush them away.

“You have a lot of nerve coming into my shop and talking about my wife that way,” I said.

Cory did his best to thrash in the chair he was tied up in but ultimately failed. “Fuck you!”

I cocked my head to the side, still having a tight grip on the knife in his thigh. I felt a presence behind me as I was crouched at the knees, knowing Matt was also watching with his own sinister smirk. I’d done a number on Cory already, his face barely recognizable from the blood that covered it and not only did he have a wound in his thigh, his arms and chest were littered with small yet painful slices from my blade.

“I’m done with him,” I said while slowly rising to full height, aged knees popping in and out of place.

Matt handed me a small handgun from one of my large collections and when I cocked it, Cory’s eyes went white as a ghost.

“Wait!” He choked on his own blood. “I have information!”

The grip on my gun never faltered but I did raise a brow at him. “What could you possibly know that would interest me?”

Deep, uneven breaths fell from Cory’s lips and I knew that I only had a short window with him before he succumbed to the wounds; more importantly, the one on his side. Matt made a comment of how deep I went with the knife but all I saw was red, Cory’s comments from earlier urging the knife deeper.

“The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

“Its-,” he coughed up blood, spewing it all over himself and at the ground near my shoes. “About Saoirse’s mom. Her death.”

That made my gun falter a bit but I kept my tough resolve apparent. “Her mom died years ago. Why do you think I would spare your life when it was already a solved case?”

Underneath the blood that pooled from Corey’s mouth was a sinister smirk as he leaned his head back.

“That’s what they want you to think.”

Matt, who had slowly slipped behind Cory, and I shared a look before he asked the next question.

“Who’s they?” Matt wondered.

Cory did his best to shrug due to being tied up. “The ones who did it.”

I let out an agitated groan before dropping the gun onto the metal table next to me, the noise caused Cory to jump. It had been an extremely long day and the last thing I wanted to do was stand here while he ran us in circles with this so-called information. There were many things I would much rather be doing.

My wife.

Shaking the thought from my head, I stalked over towards the far end of the underground to where I held all of my variety of tools; immediately reaching for the pair of rusty pliers.

Twirling the tool in my hands, I noticed a look of fear flash in Cory’s eyes just before I flicked my own towards Matt, giving him a silent order. He wrenched Cory’s head back by the roots of his hair, keeping him in place, gloved fingers smearing his own blood all throughout.

It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit to start wearing gloves during these kinds of meetings. Not only for the fear of leaving fingerprints behind but because blood was a bitch to wash off.

“Cory,” I clicked my tongue against my teeth. “I’m getting really fucking tired of your voice.”

He blinked, trying to fight against Matt’s grip on him. “Wh-what are you going to do?”

I sinisterly looked at the old pliers in my hand and shivered with delight. “I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

Screams of pain echoed loudly in the underground, but never making past the concrete walls, as I yanked his tongue out of his mouth. Cory writhed in the chair as his words were muffled as I nearly clipped the pliers with his tongue.

“One last question,” I said without an ounce of waver in my voice. “Does Vincent’s death have anything to do with Mrs. McManus’ death?”

The pupils of Cory’s eyes bled black and even with both mine and Matt’s grip on him, I felt the softest of nods. Something inside of me burned low with the revelation that my best friend was possibly killed by the same person that killed Scar’s mom.

“This is for everything you said about my wife.”

With the pliers clamped around Cory’s tongue, I ripped it with such force, blood spattered across my shirt, down to my shoes. His cries sounded like pure bliss to my ears as I let the limp muscle and pliers clatter to the dirty ground at my feet.

Matt pushed himself away from Cory, wiping his hands on the back of his sweats, before tossing me a rag.

“You got some blood on your face,” he pointed to his cheek.

With a disgusted groan, I wiped the blood away and ripped away the destroyed shirt now. It would have to join the burn pile. As I discarded my gloves into the same pile, I continued to ignore the mess of a man in front of me. Blood pooled down Cory’s chin and over his bare chest. But the satisfaction I thought I would feel after causing him this much pain was non-existent. I wanted him to suffer for everything he said about Scar but mostly the fact he had the nerve to cheat on her.

Matt immediately noticed the look in my eyes, having seen it one too many times before.

“Noah, let’s end this. It’s not like he’s physically able to tell us anything else,” he suggested.

I scratched at the tattoos on my chest absentmindedly, doing my best to calm the beast inside of me. I was alway calm with dealings like this, the more level headed one of our group. But Cory’s words about my wife continued to tease me and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Rage consumed me as I laid fist after fist into Cory’s flesh; anywhere I could.

His stomach.

His chest.

His face, over and over again.

It was as if the rage had blinded my vision, making the only thing I could see was pure darkness. His muffled groans and the sound of flesh on flesh was muted by the pounding of my heart in my ears.

“What the fuck!”

Chest heaving, I whirled around on my heels to see Scar standing on the far end of the room where the hidden staircase led. The soft features of her face were contorted with agony as she took in the sight in front of her.

Cory’s near lifeless body at my feet, still tied to the chair.

Matt sat on the metal table, dangling his legs in the air, as he browsed something on his phone.

And me, standing above the mess I created with blood on my hands; literally. Scar’s lips were parted, the softest off breaths falling from them, and her pupils were dilated with sheer fear.

No.

Not fear.

Arousal.

“Cory!” Scar bellowed before taking a step towards him, causing me to block her path.

“Now you care for him?” I sneered, wiping his blood over my chest.

“N-no,” she stammered while shifting on her feet. “I just-. I didn’t expect to see this when I came down here!”

Matt snorted from his spot on the table. “What did you expect to see, Scar? Us having a picnic?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck off, Matthew.”

“It’s Matt,” I corrected. “You need to go back upstairs.”

Now her fury was directed towards me and she poked a nail into my bare chest, doing her best not to gawk at the tattoos and blood.

Ultimately failing.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Noah!” She poked me again. “You brought me into this fucked up world, the least you can do is let me see it!”

I cocked my head to the side, slowly licking my lips, and took a tentative step towards her. The chill of the underground brought goosebumps to my skin but the reminder of how her finger felt poking my skin bathed me in warmth.

“Does this turn you on, Scar?” I teased with a low voice.

There was a slight hesitation before she scoffed, locking her hands on her hips. “No!”

Her voice was high pitched, almost scratchy, and it was something I remembered from highschool she would do this exact thing when she was lying. I raised a finger to her, twirling a piece of auburn hair around it.

“Admit it, Scar. Even you’ve thought about it. Dragging your knife across someone’s flesh. Their screams of despair and pain bring a sense of comfort, maybe even arousal,” I breathed into the crook of her neck.

She swallowed thickly and I tracked the way her bottom lip caught between her teeth, desperately wanting to know how they tasted.

“You’re sick!” her eyes snapped up towards mine.

I grinned, dark tendrils of hair falling into my even darker eyes. “If I’m so sick, then how come your hand is reaching for my belt?”

Scar cursed when she realized her fingers were brushing against the buckle of my belt and hurriedly jumped away from me. Her eyes darted back to the scene behind me, lingering on the slowly dying body at my feet.

“Did you rip out his tongue?!” She gasped, covering her mouth.

I kicked the limp muscle on the other side of the room carelessly. “Bastard kept talking about you. I needed to teach him a lesson.”

Matt slipped off of the table and reached for one of the smaller pocket knives we had hanging on the wall behind him. Twirling it between his fingers, he nodded towards Scar.

“Do you want to finish him off? A little payback for him cheating on you?”

For the briefest of moments, she thought about it with the way her gaze lingered on the sharp blade before falling down to Cory, who had passed out from the pain. Scar was facing an internal battle inside of her between what was right and wrong. Well, what she thought was wrong. Nothing I did in the undergrounds of the Concrete Jungle was wrong. I did it to protect what I’ve created here and to protect the ones I love.

“What do you say? Or are you too much of a pussy to get the job done?” I taunted, hands buried deep into the pockets of my dress slacks.

Scar’s lips recoiled as she violently shook her head. “If I would have known you were like this, I wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage!”

My heart sank to the depths of my stomach but I continued to hold my demeanor, not allowing her to know how her words continued to affect me.

“Fine,” I shrugged with a sigh. “You have two choices. Stay here and watch or go upstairs and wait for me.”

“Wait for you? For what?” She blinked.

Not uttering a word, I turned on my heels back towards Cory and kicked his abdomen, waking him from his slumber. Words were muffled as he tried to fight against the binds, weakly due to the blood loss, so Matt bent at the knees next to him.

“We’ll make it quick,” he shook the knife in front of Cory’s face, whose eyes flared with fear.

I didn’t have to see if Scar went upstairs, I could feel her presence behind me as she stalked closer. The ghost brush of a hand on my lower back made my spine stiffen and when I glanced over my shoulder, I raised a brow at her.

“Curious cat, eh?”

“Fuck off, Sebastain!” She pushed away from me and I could hear her footsteps amcking against the concrete as she ran up the hidden staircase.

“Did you want the honors, boss?” Matt’s voice caused me to turn my head back towards him.

“He’s all yours,” I said, the urge to hurt him not present. “Have Ash help you clean up. But once you’re finished, do me a favor and look into what he was rambling on about earlier.”

Matt gave a quick two finger salute. My heart was no longer in this game of torture and mutalation. It was vying for the woman upstairs and wanting to make things right with her. The usual sick thrill I got from watching a kill meant nothing as I followed Scar’s footsteps.

SCAR

I lay in bed with my back turned towards the door, trying my darndest to erase the image of Cory on the flood from my brain. While I never loved him, it still struck something inside of me to see him so broken on death's door. Yet, the way Noah looked towered over him, shirtless and the blue lights of the underground emanating him in neon glows now made something burn inside. My pussy ached as I remembered how the blood looked smeared across Noah’s tattooed chest and for the quickest of moments, I wanted to lick it off of him.

“You’re so fucked up!” I groaned while pressing my palms into my eyes, hoping to rub away the vision from my mind.

“Talking to yourself?”

Snapping my eyes open, I saw Noah leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, thick arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a dream with the setting sun's rays blasting through the large windows and casting him in a peachy glow. His belt and button were undone, showcasing the hard V line of his hips as his pants hung low, and I found myself staring at the few dark hairs that peaked out from the waistband of his briefs.

“If you want it, Scar. All you need to do is ask,” Noah teased while pushing himself off the door frame and stalked into the bedroom.

Rolling my eyes, I sat up in bed and pulled my knees to my chest as I watched him walk towards the bathroom.

“Did you kill him?”

My words made Noah pause, the muscles in his back flexing, but he didn’t look towards me. “Will you cry if I tell you the truth?”

“I don’t love him. Never had. But that doesn't mean he deserved to die, Noah!”

Now he whirled around on his feet, dark eyes staring daggers into me.

“He cheated on you, Scar! Bragged about how the only good hole you had was your mouth. Claimed you would lie there stiff as a board,” Noah ran a hand through his hair.

I pulled my lips in a tight light after I was about to say something but when he took a large step towards me, I realized he wasn't done yet.

“Did you really think I would let him get away with talking about you like that? My wife. In my shop?!”

His eyes were wild as he loomed over me in the bed and my stomach flipped at his words.

My wife.

“I-,” my voice faltered, unsure what to say.

Noah’s nostrils flared, his anger radiating off of him in droves, and he leaned farther over me causing my body to fall to the bed. Tattooed arms locked me in on both sides of my head and I felt his scorching breath fanning over my lips. We were so close that if I titled my head up just a tad, I would finally be able to figure out what he tasted like; a thought that had been plaguing my mind since highschool.

“Let’s make one thing clear here. You’re mine, angel. Anyone who disrespects you will pay a price, regardless of who they are,” Noah pressed his hips against mine.

I sucked in a breath when his cock brushed along my pussy, over the silk fabric of my pajama shorts. I’d change once I came back upstairs, ready for the day to be over, not caring it was just before six in the evening. My hands shook at my sides, unsure what to do with them, so Noah grabbed them and pinned both of them above my head; both wrists fitting in one of his hands.

“Wh-what did you call me?” I choked out, suddenly realizing what he said.

His nose brushed along my jawline, breathing me in.

“Angel,” Noah almost purred.

I swallowed thickly, doing my best to keep my strong hold against him even though it was faltering with every brush of his cock against me. He was slowly dry humping me and I was giving back to him with even strokes. There was still dried blood across the tattoos on his chest, painting them in crimson, and I could still smell the lingering copper scent.

“What if I don’t like it?” I panted, nearly gone in bliss.

He groaned while grazing his teeth along my jugular. “Too bad because it stays. Angel.”

With one of his hands still keeping mine locked about my head, his other slipped underneath my nightshirt to graze over my blazed skin. We were like a couple of horny teenagers that found their first moment alone with each other with how frenzied our movements were against each other. My orgasm was building slowly, the familiar tingling sensation in the base of my spine. It was so close, I could taste it on the tip of my tongue and I wanted nothing more than to scream out his name as I came undone underneath hNoah.

“How wet are you, angel?” He flicked his tongue against my earlobe. “I bet you're soaked just from this.”

I nodded, too far gone now to try and fight against him. I needed this release more than oxygen and it was almost as if Noah understood because his hand slipped between us to tease my folds over my shorts.

“I fucking knew it,” he chuckled darkly. “How bad do you want my cock, Scar?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to give away how bad I actually wanted or how I’ve wanted it since freshman year. Instead I raised my hips up towards his hands, a silent beg falling from my lips.

“Use your words,” Noah demanded before smacking my pussy.

“Shit!” I cried out. “Fuck you.”

He wrapped one of my legs around his back so he could press his clothed cock over my core at a different angle and it was everything I needed for the coil to snap.

“Oh god,” my body convulsed underneath Noah as I let my orgasm overcome all of my senses.

White hazy stars danced at the edges of my vision.

I could taste the blood from Noah’s chest as I lapped at it, unknowingly.

All the noises around me seemed to fade away. The only thing I could hear was Noah’s grunts as he continued to dry fuck me.

At some point he let go of my hands and my nails scratched at the large Jesus portrait against Noah’s back, working myself through the aftershocks.

The scent of his cologne hung along the edge of my nose as I breathed him in.

“That’s such a good girl, Scar. You sound so pretty when you cum,” Noah praised while dragging his teeth along the side of my neck.

My jaw fell slack when I finally came down from my high and Noah began rising the hem of my shirt up over my stomach.

“You can lie all you want, Scar. But what you saw downstairs turned you on,” he flicked his eyes up at me from his new position over my belly.

“You’re crazy,” I breathed, letting my eyes flutter shut.

“For you-.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

My head snapped over towards the doorway where I saw one of his men leaning against the same spot Noah had been minutes prior. I vaguely recognized him as one of the members of OMNS; his long hair down past his shoulders and the cross earring hanging from his ear. The accent immediately told me who it was. I tried to scurry away from Noah, only for him to hold onto my hips with a vice grip, him sitting up against the back of his calves.

“Need something Joakim?” Noah made no effort to fix his pants or briefs as they were askew. I didn’t miss the agitation in his voice.

Joakim's eyes lingered at us for a moment before he motioned towards me. “Her fathers estate has been calling the lobby of the apartments. Apparently, her uncle wants to have her over for dinner tonight to celebrate the nuptials.”

Both Noah and I shared a look, knowing that it couldn’t be true because we saw my dad and uncle a few hours ago and neither of them made it known they wanted dinner tonight. Plus, if they did, they would call my cell phone, not the lobby.

Smacking his leg, Noah reluctantly rolled off of me allowing me to sit up and fix my hair and hopefully cool down my heated cheeks. I wasn’t sure how long Joakim had been watching us but from the sly smirk on his lips, I had a feeling it was before my orgasm.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Scar,” Noah sat on the edge of the bed, hair a disheveled mess and pants still unbuttoned.

While I expected to see his cock thick and hard, it nearly shocked me to see a faint wet spot staining the gray briefs; not from my arousal.

“I’ll be fine. Maybe it was a last minute dinner he wanted to set up. I’m sure he’s curious about the Cory situation,” I said.

Noah’s brows peaked. “What are you going to tell him?”

I shrugged. “It was handled. They don’t need to know the details.”

“Let me come with you. Since it is a dinner to celebrate us,” he spoke while rising from the bed, however Joakim shook his head.

“You’re needed at the M.I.N.D Clinic. Something happened with one of our extended guests.”

Noah sighed with even more agitation than before and pinched his eyes shut. “Fine. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you in the living room in ten minutes.”

“Wiat!” I grabbed his arm before he could retreat into the bathroom. “The M.I.N.D Clinic is real?”

“Yes,” his lips pulled down at my surprise. “It’s been a running establishment for the last three years. How have you not known about it?”

I shrugged. “There were rumors in my neighborhood about what you do in the Concrete Jungle but none of us knew for sure. The M.I.N.D Clinic allows you to go through your memories, right? Relieve them?”

Noah nodded but then his eyes widened when he realized what I was getting at and firmly shook his head. “Absolutely not, Scar. It can be a dangerous place there. We’ve had a resident with us for the last 118 days because he’s trying to remember his wife who is currently on her deathbed. The M.I.N.D program, while it is one I’ve programmed myself, still has its flaws. If you find yourself too deep, you won’t be able to pull yourself out.”

“But-!”

“No, Saoirse. Do not ask again,” Noah snapped, using my first name to let me know he meant what he said.

Holding up my hands, I nodded. “Fine. I’m going to change and head to my dad’s. I’ll be back later.”

“Take Joakim with you,” Noah said as I walked away from him. “I’ll bring Nicholas with me.”

Joakim nodded towards him but gave me a playful wink as I walked past him towards the walk in closet. “No offense, Joakim. But I can take care of myself. It’s just a dinner, no need for protection.”

Waving off Noah’s protests, I closed myself inside of the closet to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not bothering to get dressed up for this last minute dinner, and drove down the familiar but darkened roads back to my fathers estate. I tried calling him once I got in the car to confirm but got his voicemail after three rings. Even though I knew it was nothing, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart beat increased the closer I got, something not sitting well with me. I couldn’t even enjoy the earlier thought of me coming apart for Noah without the fear of what I was about to walk into looming.

How could I allow myself to let Noah take that part of me? I had told myself over and over again before moving in that I would not fold that fast for him, yet there I was begging for his cock like a horny teeneager.

I mean, you were horny. You did love what you saw in the underground.

Grumbling at my thoughts, I took the familiar turn around the bend, my old neighborhood less than a mile away. Yet I was blinded when a pair of bright headlights came barreling towards me.

“Shit!” I cursed before wrenching the steering wheel to the side, causing my car to skid close to the edge.

Right in perfect sight of the car that t boned into me. All I could remember was the sound of metal on metal and glass breaking before being plunged into darkness.

JOAKIM

“Did she make it?” I asked Noah who had stepped inside of his office at the M.I.N.D Clinic.

While he was busy tending to the resident and his wife, I’d been sitting at his desk, looking over the numbers in the books. We had made a decent increase in revenue the last six months, along with a lot of our other businesses. We no longer had to worry about where money was coming from to cover the expenses of the underground, yet it was still nice to be aware of where the money was going.

Noah shook his head and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his black jacket. His black turtle neck had been pulled up high, covering the snake tattoo on his neck.

“She didn’t make it. He claims he kept having visions of her dying over and over again while he was under,” Noah fell into the chair across from the desk with a deep sigh.

“What happens now?” I wondered while leaning farther back into my own chair.

“He paid out for 150 days, he’s going to honor the rest of his contract. To be honest, I don’t think we’d be able to make him leave,” he ran a hand through his locks, brushing them away from his face.

We sat in silence for a moment until his deep voice reverberated in the air.

“How much of that did you see? Back at the penthouse?”

I gazed away from the computer screen to see a faint redness creeping along Noah’s defined cheekbones and snickered.

“Enough to know why Scar has been on your mind since highschool,” I clicked off the program before shutting down the computer.

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t expect to fall into her so quickly, Jolly. She has this way of pulling me in and I’m so afraid that I’ll fall even harder than the last time when she realizes I’m not what she wants.”

I kicked my feet up on the desk, ignoring the way Noah glared at the action.

“She doesn't have a choice, Noah. As long as both sides want to keep the peace and stop a war from breaking out, she has to remain married to you.”

I could tell my words did nothing to ease the anxiety in his mind so I continued. “Plus from what I saw and heard, she’s into you more than you think.”

Noah’s lips parted to speak but was interrupted by the constant shrill of his phone ringing and he dug it out of his pants pocket.

“It’s Scar,” he muttered before answering. “Hey, did you make it-.”

It was silent for an eerily amount of time and with the way his face changed from neutral to fear to pure anger made me sit straight up in the chair now.

“Where are you?” Noah made a simple motion with his hand, one I understood, and quickly I made my way over to the other end of the office, yanking one of the books off of the book shelf.

The shelf next to me creaked open from the middle, showcasing a large array of different kinds of weapons. After I grabbed one of the handguns, making sure it was loaded, I grabbed one of Noah’s favorites and tossed it to him. He caught it without even looking, still on the phone with Scar.

“It’s alright, angel. Joakim and I can be there in ten minutes. Have you called the cops?”

Angel?

Cops?

What the fuck was going on?

“Don’t. I’ll call the guys to meet you there. Folio can get there in five with his bike. Just stay out of sight, alright?” Noah said while grabbing another gun, giving me a sideways glance.

You can never be too safe.

Once he hung up, he worked out a text message, no doubt to our group chat, and then slipped on his leather gloves.

“Is she alright?” I asked as we made our way through the hidden door of the office that led to the back alley.

“I don’t know,” he spat out through gritted teeth.

Neither of us said a word as we slipped inside of the sleek black car, Noah speeding off before I even buckled my seat belt.

SCAR

The sound of metal scraping along the concrete was loud in my ears as I stood frozen, gazing at the sight in front of me. In an instant, everything changed and I couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if I didn't make it out.

If I was at the bottom of the ocean with what was left of the crumpled piece of metal. The face behind the mask was the last thing I saw before swerving my car out of the way and tumbling over the edge.

I let out a choked sob as the tears finally fell from my eyes and I didn't bother to wipe them away. Fear etched its way deep into my bones and my body shook uncontrollably. Until a faint shadow in the darkness appeared through the fog and the fear stilled, only for a moment.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I sobbed, cradling my arms to my chest, hoping to hide the injuries from him. "I didn't know who else to call."

Noah stepped out of the thick fog and immediately cradled my face, eyes scanning for every visible injury he could see.

“Are you alright, angel?”

The tenderness in his voice did nothing to ease away the pain weighing my body down. I shook my head, tears still falling.

“I should have called someone else. I know you’re busy and you wanted me to be with a guard but I didn’t want to be a bother,” I rambled on.

Noah’s thumb grazed over a deep wound on my cheek, gathering up the blood. “You always call me, Scar. Always.”

I blinked through the tears but eventually nodded.

“The car came out of nowhere! The only thing I could see was a masked person driving before it crashed into me,” I sobbed but then pointed a shaking finger towards the cliff edge twenty feet from us. “My car hung on the ledge for a few minutes and I climbed my way out, barely making it out before it fell into the water.”

Noah’s grip on my face tightened before he pulled me into his chest, large hands leaving soothing circles against my back as I cried.

“It’s alright, angel. I’ve got you. You’re alright,” he cooed.

“Everything hurts. I think my arm is broken,” I continued to sob. “I should go to a hospital.”

“No,” he pulled away from me slightly so he could glance down at me through the darkness, only illuminated by the lights from his car. “Hospitals will ask questions. I’ve got a doctor on call that will meet us back at the penthouse to look at that arm and stitch up your wounds.”

Suddenly exhausted from the aftermath of the crash, I numbly nodded before collapsing into his arms. Noah cursed before picking me up bridal style to carry me over to Nicholas’ SUV. He arrived seconds after Noah did.

“How is she?” Nicholas wondered while Noah laid me down in the back seat.

“We need to get her back to the penthouse, now. Have the doctor meet you guys there. I’m going to see what I can find,” Noah ordered.

I reached for his hand, keeping him from leaving. He stood in the open doorway of the car and peered down at me with concern in his almond eyes.

“Please don’t leave,” my voice shook.

While I did grow up in the mob life, I never was exposed to it in this kind of magnitude. There wasn’t a doubt in any of our minds that this whole night had been a hit on me or Noah. But we weren't sure who had set it up.

His clenched jaw eased before letting out a tender breath. “I need to figure out what happened. I won’t be long.”

“Folio is already looking,” I explained while slowly sitting up, grimacing at the pain that shot through me.

Just then, Folio popped up behind Noah, a cigar hanging loosely from his lips.

“What did you find out?” He whirled around, fanning out the smoke.

“The driver,” Folio adjusted his leather cut off. “Put up a nasty fight at first, damn near scratched my eyes out.”

At the mention of the scuffle, I did notice three red marks down the side of his face and over the Jesus tattoo on the side of his neck.

“So is he dead or alive?” Noah asked, aggravated.

I could tell in the way his shoulders tensed underneath his jacket that he was ready to take care of this by himself.

Folio smirked before pulling the cigar from his mouth. “She is alive. Got her in the trunk of your car.”

Very quickly, Noah barked out orders to all of his men before they all piled into their respective cars. He motioned for me to lay down again, resting my head in his lap as Nicholas drove us away from the scene. I could hear the rumble of Folio’s bike next to us while Joakim and Matt rode in Noah’s car that had the culprit tied up in the trunk. I knew that there were other cars behind us but I couldn’t care at that moment because Noah’s fingers worked through the blood matted knots of my hair.

“We’ll get you cleaned up and looked at. I’m going to have a conversation with this driver,” he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the car in front of him.

“I want to be the one to do it.”

Noah’s eyes fell down to mine, heavy with exhaustion, but I forced them open.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

It nearly took me off guard that he didn’t argue with me but I recovered quickly.

“She nearly killed me, Noah,” I squeezed his knee, adjusting myself so I could take a small nap. “I’m going to find out why.”

SCAR

I stood in front of the woman who lay slumped in front of me, her words replaying in my mind over and over again. None of it could be true. There was no way; not possible.

We all arrived to the penthouse about an hour ago and while Noah brought me upstairs to get checked out and cleaned up, the rest of OMNS were busy dealing with her. I had a broken arm that was currently being held up by a sling and a wound on my forehead that needed to be stitched up, covered with a bandage. Besides those and a few bumps and bruises, I would live; much to the dismay of the woman at my feet.

It wasn't easy for me to shower by myself but I made due, not wanting Noah’s help. Even with our moment earlier this evening in bed, I wasn’t ready for him to see me naked yet.

The doctor prescribed me some meds for the pain but I declined, never liking the idea of pain meds after seeing my friends in high school abuse their parents. I’d gladly suffer for a few weeks rather than get addicted. As soon as I was dressed in a pair of leggings and a tank top, I had Noah help me back into the sling before both of us took the hidden staircase down to the underground where my prey sat waiting for me.

Nicholas and Folio had already roughed her up a bit for me and I couldn’t ignore the way it brought a giddy smile to my face seeing the woman a bloody mess. When she saw both Noah and I descended the stairs, pure ice cold fear filled her pupils and began rambling off nonsense.

Nonsense about my mother.

Once we arrived, Noah dismissed Nicholas and Folio, leaving just us three alone.

"Pl-please," she blabbered while spitting out blood. "You have to believe me! I saw it!"

“That’s not possible. She’s been dead for years. You saw her doppelganger or some shit,” I sneered while kicking her in her face, watching her rear back against the chilled concrete floor.

Thankfully I remembered to slip on my black boots before coming down here.

“I know what I saw! She was seen with Vincent!” The woman continued to spew bullshit.

According to Nicholas, he found out some details about this woman. She worked for the Italians and was set out to veer my car off of the road because they were upset that the deal for my hand in marriage was made with Noah and not one of their prospective sons.

As if I would ever get in bed with the Italians.

“You’re saying whatever you can think of to prolong you walking out of here alive,” I rolled my eyes before reaching for the knife that Noah had laid out prior to us coming down here.

I told him that I wanted to be the one to integrate her, he could hang back and watch in case things got out of hand. But before we came down here, he showed me how to properly use a knife.

“Keep a light grip on the handle but firm with the blade against their skin,” he breathed against the back of my neck as he stood behind me in our bedroom.

He held the blade against the sensitive skin of my neck and I held my breath, not due to fear but arousal. The scene also had an effect on him because I could feel Noah’s cock against the swell of my ass.

“It’s all true! Two weeks before Vincent showed up on OMNS doorstep, I saw him with your mother! At some sleazy German bar, they wanted to meet on neutral ground to discuss something.”

I paused twirling the knife in my hand and watched as the woman rose to her knees, holding out her hands.

“Discuss what?” I questioned, absitmindly playing with my wedding ring.

I couldn’t believe that it was still the same day that Noah and I signed the marriage certificate. It felt like days ago.

The woman hesitated before wiping the blood away from her broken nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t exactly know.”

Sighing, I yanked her head back by her hair, exposing her neck to the neon lights adorning the ceiling. I had no plans on killing her, that wasn’t me. Yet again, this whole torturing of a victim wasn’t me either, but given the circumstances I allowed myself this.

But realizing I could only hold her head back with my good arm, unable to hold the knife against her throat, I groaned before pushing her down the ground again.

My eyes snapped over to Noah leaning against the concrete wall, the bottom half of his face covered in the black mask. Dark tendrils of hair fell into his face but his hands were covered in blood so he refused to push them away.

“I’m suddenly bored. There’s no need to question you any longer. Have fun with her, Noah. I’m going to bed,” I grumbled, slamming the knife on the table as I walked past him, who still hadn’t uttered a word or moved a muscle.

“Noah looked into your mothers death! He sent Matt to find out more information,” the woman called after me, halting my footsteps. “It’s all over the Concrete Jungle that your mother was seen with Vincent. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift.

My head snapped over to Noah, ignoring the suddenly sinister laugh falling from the woman's mouth.

"Is it true?" I asked him, venom in my voice.

All he did was blink once but that was answer enough.

Yes.

I scoffed. “Were you planning on telling me?”

One blink.

Yes.

I pointed to the woman. “Does she have anything to do with my mother?”

This time, Noah didn’t blink which again told me his answer.

He didn’t know.

The woman watched the interaction between Noah and I, shaking her head wildly. "You can't believe him! He's lying!"

I cocked my head at her with narrowed eyes. There was a large and warm presence behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder, Noah was now standing behind me; physically and metaphorically.

"Noah's my husband. He has no reason to,” I said.

The woman's face was covered in blood, her right eye swollen shut but I wasn’t sure if it was from our beatings or from the car accident she caused. But I could see the briefest hint of fear in them when my fingers grazed over the handle of the gun Noah extended towards me.

"No, you're not like him. Please!” She begged while wrapping her arms around my hips, holding onto me.

The part of me that didn’t like the dark side of the mob life called to me, overpowering the thrill of seeing her weep at my feet and gently, I removed her grasp around me.

“I’m done,” I spoke flatly, pushing her away from me.

Mentally, I was exhausted from the everlasting day and was ready to call it a night when dark laughter pulled me back to the pathetic excuse of a woman.

“Your mother was right. You never could hack it in this business. I’m shocked your father signed you over to Noah Sebastian. He needs someone that can get their hands dirty. Maybe he’d be better off with me-.”

It all happened so quickly, barely having time to actually register what happened until it was too late. Me scurrying back over towards Noah, who still held the gun outstretched and my finger on the trigger, firing off two rounds directly into the woman's skull; right between the eyes.

The ringing in my ear due to the gunshot was deafening as I stood there motionless, unable to process any coherent thought or word. It wasn’t until I felt callused fingers around my wrist, pulling my attention away from the dead body at my feet and to the dark eyes of Matt, filled with concern.

“Let’s get you upstairs, Scar,” he gingerly led me back towards the hidden staircase, too far gone in a state of shock to realize Noah had begun cleaning up my mess.

NOAH

“Scar?” I called out into the dark penthouse.

After I finished cleaning up the mess in the underground thanks to help from Ash and Bryan, I made my way upstairs to check on Scar. Matt had taken her upstairs over an hour ago but I hadn’t heard how she was doing. It’s never easy, your first kill, so I knew the feeling of disgust and dread she had to have been feeling.

As I walked down the long hallway towards our bedroom, ignoring the one room that always remained locked, I paused momentarily just past the doorway of the bedroom when I heard soft cries echoing from the shower.

“Scar?” I called out again, this time with more fever as I ran into the bathroom, the sight stalling my heart.

She was curled up in a ball, still in her clothes and sling, soaked to the bone as she cried out. There was a frigid chill in the air, indicating she’d run through all of the hot water, but that didn’t stop me from kicking off my boots and stepping into the shower with her; clothes and all.

“Noah!” She cried, immediately pulling me into her, burying her face in my soaked black shirt.

“Shh,” I brushed my lips across her forehead, the bandage covering her stitches barely hanging on. “I’ve got you.”

“Am I?” Scar choked out, fisting at the fabric. “Am I a monster now?”

My heart shattered, pieces falling into the depths of my abdomen but I shook my head. Cupping her cheek, I forced her to look up at me, water droplets hanging onto her long lashes.

“No, angel. You’re a fighter. You did what needed to be done,” I held her closer to me, allowing her to cry out the guilt and anguish she felt.

She might have felt like a monster right now but I knew that she would evolve into something greater, far exceeding the expectations her family set against her. They were right when they thought she couldn’t run the McManus empire. Because she was made to run OMNS with me by her side.

First things first, however, we needed to have a talk with Matt and figure out what he found out about her mother's death.

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