Page 39 of Dark Therapy

“Thank you,” I murmured, my heart heavy with unspoken words as he turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I let out a shaky breath, my heart racing once more. I pressed my back against the door, feeling the cool wood against my skin, desperately trying to steady my racing thoughts.

The moment of peace that had come with Jake’s presence quickly dissipated, leaving me alone with the haunting knowledge of Damien’s threat. I glanced at the phone still clutched in my hand, the screen dark and silent, but I knew that the danger wasn’t over.

TICKET TO HELL

Damien

The night clung to me like a second skin, thick and suffocating, as I leaned against the rough bark of a tree outside her house. The faint, warm glow spilling through her living room window made my stomach churn. She was there—withhim. Every muscle in my body coiled tight enough to snap. He was too close, his hand touching her like he had any damn right to.

My knife was a comforting weight in my hand, the blade gleaming faintly as I let it drag across my palm, just enough to feel the bite. It whispered promises to me—sharp,deliciouspromises. The sliver of moonlight caught its edge, a mocking reminder of how easy it would be. One clean swipe.One.

I pulled out my phone, the live feed from her house filling the screen like some sick reality show. Cameras I’d installed without her ever knowing—they gave me her every move, her every breath, even when she thought she was safe.Safe. The word was a joke. No one was safe, least of all her.

She tilted her head toward him, her lips curling into a laugh that made my ears buzz with static. He leaned in, his hand sliding to her waist like it fucking belonged there.My fucking waist. My fucking laugh. My Millie.

And then—then the bastarddared. His hand slid up her neck, his mouth grazing hers, and I felt it—my pulse spiking in my chest like a bomb. My grip on the knife tightened, the blade trembling against my skin. The thought of splitting his throat open, feeling the hot spray of his blood on my hands, sent a twistedthrillthrough me. I wanted to watch his face drain of life, his stupid fucking smile replaced with fear as he realized he’d fucked up touching what wasmine.

It would be easy—too easy. Slip through the door, carve him open in a heartbeat, and let him die choking on his goddamn arrogance. I could almost hear the wet, gurgling sound he’dmake, the way his body would collapse at her feet. She’d cry, scream maybe, but she’dlearn. She’d fucking understand.

I held myself back, the fire roaring in my chest, threatening to consume me whole. But no.Notyet. I forced it down, every sharp, violent impulse clawing to be let loose. She didn’t know I was here, didn’t know how fucking close she was to crossing a line she’d never come back from. This game—mygame—was just getting started. I felt a manic grin tug at my lips, the thrill surging up my spine. Patience, Damien.Patience.

The knife in my hand was a lifeline, its cold, unyielding weight grounding me, reminding me who was in control. Her? Him? The world outside that window? They didn’t fucking matter. They were oblivious, blind to the storm sitting just beyond their reach. The anger thrummed under my skin, sharp and hot, but I’d learned to wear it like a second skin. Waiting was an art. I hadperfectedit.

Through the screen, I watched her let that bastard touch her, his hand on her waist like he thought he had a claim. My stomach twisted, my pulse hammering in my ears. I wanted to rip that hand off—everyfuckingfinger—and shove them down his goddamn throat. But where was the fun in that? Where wasthe satisfaction in simply taking what was mine without giving her a choice?

No, no. I wasn’t some impulsive animal. I was methodical, deliberate,righteous. I wouldn’t kill her little plaything without first giving her the chance to save him. After all, what would be the point if she didn’t know what it meant to hold his fate in her hands? To realize that with a single word, she could bring him back from the edge—or let himfall.

It was so much moredeliciousthis way, watching her struggle with it, watching her wrestle with the choice, knowing that she’d see the monster within me and, despite her best instincts, still bedrawnto it. It was inevitable, really. She was already too far gone, whether she knew it yet or not. This was just a reminder. A lesson in power.

I’d make her understand that she couldn’t outrun this. She could play house, laugh with her little friends, pretend she was safe, but we both knew the truth. She belonged tome. Her choices, her fears, her desires—all of it was mine to twist and shape.

So yes, I would give her the choice.

With my gaze locked on the screen, I watched as she laughed, the soft light illuminating her face as she leaned into him. I could feel the anger simmering, like a low, dangerous hum vibrating beneath my skin. The little pet excused himself, disappearing down the hall, leaving her alone for a moment.

Perfecttiming.

I dialed her number slowly, each press of the button deliberate, savoring the anticipation of hearing her voice. The phone rang only once before she picked up. I could practically feel her hesitation through the line.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, cautious, as if she already sensed something was wrong.

I let a beat of silence linger, enjoying the tension, the way thefearcrept in when she wasn’t sure who was on the other end. Then I spoke, my voice low and venomous.

“Millie.” I let her name drip from my lips, a twisted mockery of affection.

She inhaled sharply, a sound that made my pulse quicken with satisfaction. “Damien…” Her voice shook, barely above a whisper.

I closed my eyes, letting her trembling voice echo in my mind, wrapping around me like a noose I was more than happy to tighten.Fuck. The way she said my name—soft, broken, dripping with fear—sent a jolt straight to my cock. It wasn’t just a name. It was surrender. It was power. It was a goddamnsymphony, and I was the conductor, savoring every shaky, desperate note.

“Damien.” Just that. One word.Onefucking word, but it was enough to unravel me, to stoke the fire that already burned too hot. Her voice was laced with fear, maybe even hate, but fuck, that just made it better. Made her mine in ways she didn’t even realize. Every little tremor, every goddamn breath, was a gift she didn’t know she was giving me.

I licked my lips, the blade in my hand pressing hard enough against my palm to sting, grounding me in the chaos she stirred. The thought of her whispering my name like that again, but louder, rougher,needier, made my blood fucking sing. She could fight it all she wanted, hate me, curse me, scream atme—but she’d still come apart for me. She’d still whisper my name with those perfect, trembling lips while I made her fucking forget every other word she knew.

Goddamn, she didn’t know what she did to me. She had no idea howdeepthis ran, how much of her was already mine—her fear, her anger, her goddamn defiance. They all belonged to me, tangled up in that one broken whisper.Fuck. It was enough to make me want to kick her door down and take her right then and there, make her scream my name until it was the only fucking thing left in her vocabulary.

She thought she had a choice. She thought she could run, hide,resist. She didn’t fucking understand yet. But she would. Oh, shewould. Because I wouldn’t stop. Icouldn’t. Not until every breath, every thought, every goddamn piece of her wasmine.