And that’s when my heart is crushed and stomped on.

My nose twitches from the fury flowing through my veins. How could she say that?

For a moment, she turns her head to me. “I’m sorry, Miles. I can’t.”

And then she lets go of my hand and runs inside.

***

Present, a few days later …

She consumed me.

She ruined my life.

And I will destroy her in return.

Growling, I pick up the nearest pot of flowers and smash it into the wall. Fuck. That feels good. I need to feel the rage again, so I can connect with my thirst for revenge. Fucking with her has sucked out a bit of my will to hurt her, and I don’t get why. I thought humiliating her like that would make the revenge sweet as hell. Instead, it only made me hungry for more.

I can’t stand the thought of having her near me, but I can’t stand the thought of letting her go. As much as I despise her, I still have these uncontrollable urges when I’m around her. I constantly lust after her. All I think about is tasting those sweet, delicious lips, burying my cock in her wet, yielding pussy, and claiming her as my own. Just as I should have done a long time ago.

Fucking hell. I’m a weak son of a bitch.

I pick up another vase and throw it at the wall, watching it shatter it into a million bits. The wall dents, but my pent-up rage is still not under control. I can’t stop thinking about her, and I hate it. I fucking hate it!

Why do I torture myself like this?

Grinding my teeth, I shake my head and knock on my temple with my fist. “Keep yourself together, Phoenix. You can do this. You can punish her. You can make her bleed. Remember what she did,” I tell myself over and over again.

Memories of her smiling as she sees me in jail get me fuming and ready for the next attack. Maybe I had a moment of weakness. Maybe I do want to fuck her until she can no longer stand. Maybe I still want to hear her scream my name. But now, I can use my filthy lust to my advantage. Her body is my playground, and I’ll use it in whatever way I deem necessary to get the job done. If it means carving her with my knife, I’ll do just that. If it means shoving my cock into her throat and making her come from my voice alone, I’ll do just that.

Sex isn’t just to feel good. I can use it as a tool to make her feel like a dirty whore. It’ll be my weapon of choice. My cock will bring her to her knees. I’ll have her begging for mercy before she dies.

I can hear her call out my name over and over again from the attic, but I’m far too busy casually strolling around her house to check the place out. It’s enormous and out of proportion, much like her inflated ego. Must be due to all that money she got from that asshat husband who cheated on her before he was killed.

I have to admit, she’s done quite well, even though she married that asshole. I guess being a manipulative, conniving bitch can get you places. Much like her mother, the wicked witch. Oh, they’re all the same, those women … they’d kill for power. Not just figuratively.

It’s probably why I feel so disgusted when I look at Vanessa. What she’s capable of blows my mind, and yet it’s funny because I’m capable of the exact things when it comes to protecting what I love.

In her case, it was money.

In my case, it was power.

I guess the two go hand in hand. No wonder we’re together again after all this time. We’re like flies on a shit pile, attracted to the same filthy stench.

Aiming for Phillip’s portrait, standing next to a box of his old books, I shoot his face off, shattering the glass in the process. Upstairs, Vanessa is screaming her lungs out, probably afraid that I’m killing someone else now. She can think that; it will only add to the fun I’m having.

As I walk into the hallway leading up to the front door, I notice the huge portrait hanging on the wall. It’s a giant picture of Vanessa in a different floral dress, a big hat, and high heels, cupping her fake blond curls while she smiles at the camera as if she’s some kind of celebrity. Maybe she is, but I don’t give a damn. All that matters is that she’s in a cage, sulking, and covered in my cum. Such a fitting image for a girl like her.

I aim and fire, filling the canvas with holes. The pretty picture is gone; ripped sheets and a chipped frame is all that’s left. Not so pretty anymore. Just like her heart.

“What’s going on?” I hear her yell.

I don’t respond because I enjoy the look on her face when she doesn’t get what she wants, and I’m sure she’ll gaze at me that way when I come back up to the attic. Her looks always got her what she wanted, but not anymore. Not with me.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and I frown as I turn around. Who the fuck would come to this place?

I walk to the door and peek through the hole in the wood. It’s a girl, barely twenty, and she’s holding a bunch of papers and a phone. “Vanessa?”

She clearly has some business with my Princess, but I’m not interested in people minding my business. However, if she’s here, that means she knows something’s wrong if I don’t open the door. I don’t want anyone sniffing around this place. Mulling it over, I decide to open the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” I say with the biggest, fakest smile I’ve ever conjured.

“Um … excuse me, who are you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, seeing as I’m in this house and you’re standing outside, I should be asking you that question.”

She makes a face as if she’s not amused. Whatever. I like my wicked sense of humor.

“I’m Paige, her assistant. She’s not picking up her phone, and we’ve got some things to discuss.”

“Okay …” I scratch my head for a second. “How did you get past the gate?”

“I have a key,” she says, holding it up.

Interesting.

“Who are you again?” she asks.

I cock my head. “I didn’t say, but let me ask you a few questions.”

“Why.” She peeks over my shoulder. “Vanessa?”

Sighing, I say, “She’s busy. But anyway, you work for her … you’re still so young, damn. I didn’t realize Vanessa had such a young assistant.”

I spot a hint of a smile. “Yeah, I’m kind of good at what I do. Now, can you let me pass?”

“I can tell that you’re rather meticulous in what you do,” I say with a wink. “So, Paige. Are you still in college or something?”

She folds her arms. “No. Finished last year.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I say. “I never even finished high school.”

“Hmpf.”

She doesn’t seem too impressed. Not the point, either. I just want her details, and I’m not stopping my interrogation until I’m a hundred percent sure that she’s not a threat. Not that I wouldn’t kill her. Hell, I don’t give two shits about this person I just met, but I do want to know if someone would come and look for her if she went missing.

“So, you live on your own, Paige?” I ask.

She frowns. “Um … yeah … I guess. Not with my parents, at least.”

I place my hand on the door. “Sorry, if that’s creepy. I’m just asking because I think you’re rather … cute.” I almost bit my tongue there, but I made it through that sentence. Whew.

Her cheeks flush, and she sucks in her lips. “Oh … Thank you,” she murmurs. “Well, yeah, I don’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.”

“Awesome.” I give her my flirty smile, and after a wink, she’s completely hooked. I know how to charm a girl. I also know how to fuck one up. “I wouldn’t want to live with my parents either, bringing home a guy like me.” She giggles a little when I lean in. “And I definitely want to come to your place.”

“I don’t have parents, so no problem there,” she says, muffling a laugh.

“Oh, well, isn’t that convenient.”

She makes a face. “Excuse me?”

“Did they die?” I ask, grabbing her arm.

She leans away from me. “Yes …”

“And no other family?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I just want to know if I can fuck you without people asking you how you got so worked up. When I fuck a girl, I do it so hard that you’ll see the marks for days to come.”