Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

The helmet traps the heat, turning each breath into a slow burn, but it only sharpens my senses. I dismiss the sweat gathering beneath the padding, focusing on the bastard sprawled on the floor. He’s gasping, with a dark pool of blood spreading beneath his carcass and inching toward Ginevra.

She’s crouched a few feet away, her eyes locked onto the scene. Horror twists her features, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

I drop to my knees beside him, gripping the knife. Julian’s gaze locks onto mine, frozen in a rictus of terror. After slicing through his shirt, I press the blade against his abdomen, savoring the way he shudders, the way those eyes widen with dread.

The same eyes that dared to lust after my Ginevra.

“Thought you could have her?” I say through the voice changer.

Blood bubbles between his lips. “Who are you?”

“The man whose property you touched.” I drag the knife across his belly, feeling the resistance as it slices through skin and muscle. Blood spurts, warm and thick, soaking my gloves before falling in rivulets down his sides.noveldrama

The asshole beneath me convulses, his breath coming in ragged gasps. This is just a fraction of the torment he inflicted on my Ginevra.

Leaning closer, I bring my helmet to his ear, reveling in the way he chokes on his own panic. “You thought you could touch what’s mine?”

I jab the blade into his side, twisting it deep, making his body jerk with a pained sob. Each stab I deliver is a punishment for every twisted thought he had about my property. He’s paying for that pathetic attempt at blackmail, his hands on her precious body, his sick obsession.

Crouching just feet away, Ginevra lets out a strangled cry, but she doesn’t move, seeming frozen in horror. I continue slashing, filling the room with the satisfying sound of tearing flesh and the wet gurgle of Julian’s desperate attempts to breathe.

The blood spreads, reaching her feet, staining the hem of her skirt. Her terror is a living thing, feeding my need to make this bastard suffer.

This isn’t just about punishing him— it’s about sending a message. No one touches her. No one scares her but me.

Not wanting her to view Brisket as a hero, I slice into his abdomen, and the skin parts like wet paper. Then I plunge my hand into the wound, curling my fingers around his intestines. He convulses with a garbled scream as I yank out a length of his guts, letting them spill across the floor. But it’s not enough. I dig deeper, encountering the barrier of muscle, and slice through it with the blade. I work my fingers into his chest cavity, until I feel the slowing beats of his heart. With a sharp yank, I tear it free.

Screaming, she scrambles backward and slips in the blood. Then she rounds the corner, filling the air with the sound of retching.

Good. She should be afraid. She should be disgusted.

As the scents of blood and bile seep through my helmet, Ginevra’s footsteps disappear further into the apartment. She’s going the wrong way if she wants to escape.

Julian’s twitching slows, his breath turning into a wet rattle. I yank my blade free and wipe off the blood on his ruined shirt. The light flickers out of his eyes, leaving behind a broken carcass.

Rising, I step over his body, my attention shifting to where she disappeared. As I round the corner, I find her doubled over, stumbling into the bathroom. In a few rapid steps, I wedge the door open before it shuts.

“Get away from me,” she screams.

I shove into the marble-tiled room, pleased at how she skitters backward. She presses herself against the wall, her eyes wild, searching for an escape that doesn’t exist. Her breath hitches in uneven gasps, her body locked in a rigid stance, as if caught between fight and flight.

“This is what you wanted. I murdered that man for you.” Raising a hand, I offer her his still-twitching heart.

Horror flashes in her eyes, and I wonder if she blames herself for the man’s death. She shakes her head, trying to form words, but they catch in her throat.

“B-Bob,” she whispers. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t. You don’t understand.”

I grab her wrist and shove the organ into her palm. “I have paid your price with his blood. Now, you’re mine.”

She flinches, letting the heart drop to her feet.

I reach for the bottom of my helmet, pretending to unfasten it. Eyes widening, she grabs my hands.

“Stop!” she cries.

The corner of my lips lifts into a smile. She no longer sees Brisket as a savior.

My hand falls away, and I step back.

Her screams weaken to breathless sobs, leaving only revulsion and fear. With a sudden burst of panic, she tries to dart past me toward the bathroom door. I pull her into my chest.

“Where’s the appreciation, little Ginny?” I growl into her ear.

She wriggles in my grasp. “Let go of me… Please.”

“Are you an ungrateful little cunt? Or are you ashamed to admit your pussy is wet? I killed at your command, and I will do it again. Say the word, and I’ll deliver you another heart.”

She stiffens.

“Now, get on your knees and thank me.”

Ginevra hesitates, her features flickering with realization. The man she once thought would save her is bent on tearing away the last shred of her dignity. She opens her mouth but fails to produce words. What can she say when her nighttime hero has turned into a monster?

“What’s wrong, little Ginny? Have you forgotten how to play?”

She falls to her knees and bows her head, as if submitting might shield her from more cruelty. I thread my bloody fingers through her hair and yank her head back so I can look her full in the face. Tears stream down her cheeks, her pretty features contorted with agony.

She clamps her mouth shut as if holding back a scream, but I tighten my grip on her hair until she hisses. “Please… Stop.”

I release her with a shove hard enough to make her sprawl across the floor. “Next time I see you…” I pause, letting her anticipate the threat. “I’m taking that pussy.”

She crumples into herself, hugging her knees in a tight ball of sobs.

Satisfaction thrums through my insides, and I nod. My message is clear. She’s seen what Brisket can do, and the terror in her eyes confirms that this masked man is no longer her savior. Now that I’ve shattered that illusion, she’ll have no choice but to come to me.

Without a word, I step over her, out of the bathroom, and down the hallway leading to where I left Riva’s corpse. I exit through the roof garden and head toward the service elevator.

My work is done. If this isn’t enough to have her running into my arms, then the loan sharks I’ve stationed outside her house will do the job.

Soon, Ginevra will be mine.