Page 55 of Psycho Saviors

As Tyrone released his hold on him, he slumped forward in the chair, sobbing pitifully, and I gritted my teeth. I felt Julian's hand on my back, a silent reassurance that I was safe here, at least for the moment. I took some small comfort in that.

Tyrone turned to Cristian, his expression hardened into a cold mask. "Do you want to do the honors, brother?" he asked, his voice carrying across the warehouse.

Cristian stepped forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he took in the sight of Angelo's mutilated face, blood and the remnants of his eyes oozing down his cheeks. Cristian glanced at me, his gaze lingering for a moment before he nodded at Tyrone, accepting the offer with a chilling smile.

I buried my face into Julian's chest, knowing I didn't want to witness what was about to follow.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as Angelo's screams filled the warehouse. The sound was jarring, the repetitive cries making me flinch each time, my heart pounding with the pain and terror echoing in them.

I focused on Kenny, one hand finding his small body and my fingers gliding through his fur in an effort to soothe my frantic heart.

The screams eventually subsided, giving way to an eerie silence that was almost worse than the sound of Angelo's agony. I couldn't bring myself to look, but I knew he was dead. The sticky wet sound of the knife plunging into his body had ceased, replaced by the heavy breathing of Cristian.

"This is the darkness of our world, Scarlet," Tyrone's voice rang out, strong and clear despite the bloodshed that had just unfolded. "Bloody, brutal, raw."

I should have been terrified. I should have been shaking, screaming, demanding to be let go. But as I huddled against Julian, I found a strange sense of calm washing over me. This man, Angelo, had been ready to have me killed or used as currency in their twisted world. He would have ended my life without a second thought. His death was a direct result of his own actions, and while I knew this shouldn't be something I could accept so easily, I couldn't find it in myself to feel bad for him. Sure, his screams had hit me hard, but now that it was over, any sympathy for him had evaporated as the reality sunk in.

Slowly, I turned my head, my cheek brushing against Julian's chest. My eyes fell upon the lifeless body of Angelo Russo, a man who'd ruled a rival family, now nothing more than a bloodied, battered corpse. He was no longer a threat to me, to Julian, to any of us.

I lifted my gaze, first to Cristian, who stood there, his chest heaving, the knife still gripped tightly in his hand, blood splattered across his face like war paint. His eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something beyond the rage and the violence—a flicker of concern, perhaps?

Then I turned to Tyrone, whose dark eyes were locked on me. They narrowed as he took a step closer, the corners of his mouth turning down in a contemplative frown. He sauntered over, each step deliberate and full of purpose, and I found myself holding my breath.

As he approached, Julian's grip on me tightened ever so slightly. I refused to cower, to show any sign of weakness in the face of the man who had just orchestrated a murder right before my eyes. A murder for me, of the man who'd stolen me from them.

I was surrounded by violence, by men who wielded death as easily as others might wield a pen. And yet, in this moment, I understood their world, their methods.

Sometimes survival meant being the one left standing when the dust settled. The one with the most blood on their hands.

26

TYRONE

Icrossed the gap between us, my heart pounding with a ferocity that surprised me, my blood roaring in my ears. The need to feel her body after beating Angelo senseless became a calling I couldn't resist. I kissed her, unable to understand why I sought to claim her in this moment after the murder of a rival mafia head. Was it the sense of power and justice filling me? Fueling me to take what was mine?

Of course she had to look at me like that, a hint of pride and relief in those depths. She was proud of the atrocity I'd just carried out? Of how I’d gifted my brother the final nail in the coffin of this wretched man? She wasn't afraid of what we'd done or distraught over Angelo's death. No, I had a sneaking suspicion she was more than that. Darker than that. She wanted to pretend she was normal, but I could see the truth now. She was as dark and chaotic as we were, wicked to the core.

She'd swum through the darkness of this world, and she was not about to be broken by it.

I had no idea why I felt this way, but I succumbed to the need within me, unable to fight it. Her lips were a fiery contrast to the cold brutality that had just unfolded, and they parted for me with an eagerness that sent a jolt straight through to my core.

Cristian was there too, his face a grotesque canvas of someone else's blood. It should have terrified her, but instead, she was caught between us, her body a battleground for our desires.

Cristian's lips were on her neck, his hands deftly peeling away the layers of her clothing like a man starved. I couldn't resist any longer; I needed to claim her, to make her understand she was ours—irrevocably, undeniably ours.

I picked her up, the world around us a blur as I moved to the hood of the car. It was cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin as I pressed her against it. My lips found hers again, the kiss wild and untamed, fueled by the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. My hands, usually so precise, fumbled with my own clothing, eager to bridge the gap between us.

I don't know when it happened, when she became the center of my universe, but in that moment, as I entered her, nothing else mattered. The warehouse, the body cooling behind us, the empire we'd built—it all faded away. It was just the two of us, locked in this moment. I fucked her senseless there, with an intensity that bordered on madness, on the hood of that car, with the echoes of violence still hanging in the air.

“That’s right, baby, you take this cock,” I growled as I gripped Scarlet’s hips bruisingly, driving into her ruthlessly. She gasped and clawed at my shoulders, but I didn’t relent.

Her gaze skittered around, from Angelo’s body, to my brothers, then back to my face. She looked torn and confused, but she didn’t fight me in this moment, as if she knew how badly I needed her, to feel her body, to plunge inside her.

“You. Are. Mine.” Each word was a declaration, emphasized by deep thrusts inside her, jerking her on the hood. I kissed her neck, sucking on her sweet skin to leave my mark.

“Tyrone.” My name was a whisper on her lips, but it was the last push I needed. I drove into her without restraint, our hips slamming together with force as she whimpered and clung to me.

And when I finally came, my body sated and my breaths coming in ragged gasps, Cristian was there, waiting for his turn. I pulled out of Scarlet, her own chest rising and falling, her legs trembling. Cristian took my place, his hand circling her throat and pinning her back on the hood as he buried himself inside her.