Burn for me

Chapter 3:The Aftermath

RAYNE'S POV

I got us a room and we entered. The door clicks shut behind us, and the sound echoes in the silence.

I am not going to waste any time. I scan the room, my eyes moving over the expensive furniture, the large bed, the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything is perfect. Exactly how I like it.

I go to the closet and open it up. The toys are all there. Whips. Chains. Cuffs. Blindfolds. Everything I need. Everything I want.

I look back at him to try to read his expressions. His green eyes are wide, fixed on the contents of the closet. His lips are parted. His breathing is shallow.

He is so cute. He did not flinch, but something was definitely on his mind. I can see it in the way his fingers twitch at his sides. The way his throat moves when he swallows.

Everyone I bring here tries to run after seeing this closet. They scream. They cry. They beg. They try to escape.

But not him.

He definitely is a bold one, and I like that. It is getting me horny. The thought of him being different, being special, being brave—it sends a rush of heat through my body.

And I definitely want him in control.

I get to my knees. The carpet is soft beneath my legs. The weight of what I am about to do presses down on me.

It was hard to say, but he heard it.

"Master."

He did not react. He just stood there, staring at me. His green eyes unreadable.

I clear my throat and try again.

"Master."

I look directly into his green-lit eyes. I am not expecting much. Nobody ever lets me be submissive. They are too afraid. Too weak. Too broken.

But is it so weird? To want this? To want someone to take control for once?

I might have to kill this guy after all.

I was getting ready to stand up, ready to end this charade, ready to accept that he is just like everyone else—

He suddenly got up and took a whip from the closet.

My heart stops.

He holds it in his hand, the black leather glinting in the dim light. His green eyes are burning with something I have never seen before.

"Get on the bed," he orders.

His voice is firm. Commanding. It sends a shiver down my spine.

I saw no fear in his eyes. I liked it. I obeyed and got on the bed.

I lie down, my body stretched out, my red hair spilling across the pillows. I look up at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

I would not mind if he hits me with the whip. He looks hard already. When is he going to notice that?

Is this guy a sadist? That is so cute. Does he even know what is happening right now?

Suddenly he ordered me to jerk off.

I froze. Not because I was not going to do it, but because he was smirking. That cocky, knowing smirk. It made me self-conscious.

My hand moves to my belt. I unzip my pants. I start rubbing myself through my boxers.

He watches me. His green eyes are fixed on my face, on my hand, on my body. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch.

It was amazing. I might get addicted to it.

We were both having the best night. The heat. The passion. The control shifting between us like a dance. He was so confident, so commanding, so perfect.

Until he passed out.

He held out for so long while being drunk. His body finally gave out, his green eyes fluttering closed, his breathing evening out.

What else could he do to me if he was sober? The thought sends a rush of excitement through my body. I had to find out.

I ordered clean up. The staff came and went, silent and efficient. I personally cleaned him. His body is warm and soft beneath my hands. I wash him carefully, gently, treating him like something precious.

I dry him. I dress him in one of the hotel robes. I tuck him into the bed.

I stand over him, watching him sleep. His face is peaceful. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

I guess I am not going to kill him after all.

I do not even know his name. I never asked. But I am sure we will cross paths again. Or I will find him myself and make him my plaything.

I leave a note and some cash on the nightstand. My handwriting is quick, messy.

"I did not kill you after all, doll."

I grab my jacket and leave the room. The door clicks shut behind me.

I still got a dealer to find. And I do not let my prey survive. He is so dead for standing me up.

I get into the car. Dante is in the driver's seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

"Sir, you look refreshed," Dante says. His voice is careful, respectful, but there is a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Oh, shut up, Dante," I snap. "I did not kill him." I lean back in my seat, running my hand through my loose red hair. "And I already warned you to stop calling me 'sir' when we are alone."

Dante smirks. "Yes, sir. I mean—Rayne."

I roll my eyes. "Do you have any intel on the dealer?"

Dante's expression turns serious. He reaches for a tablet on the passenger seat and hands it to me.

"We better hurry, Rayne," he says. "He is planning to run away from town. He has been making moves, selling off assets, booking transport out of Talber."

My jaw tightens. My fingers grip the tablet. The screen shows satellite images, text messages, flight records. Everything we need.

Father is not going to let that slide.

Ughhhh. I am not going to be killed over some dealer.

"So he wants to do this the hard way?" I say, my voice low and dangerous. I set the tablet down and reach for the compartment beneath the seat.

"Where are my guns, Dante?"

"The guns are here, Rayne."

I look at the bag Dante hands to me. A black leather bag. Heavy. I unzip it and find all my weapons inside. The metal glints in the dim light of the car. Cold. Deadly. Perfect.

I pick out my best ones. A shotgun. Solid. Reliable. It fits perfectly in my hands. I take daggers too, strapping them to my thighs, my waist, my ankles. I need to be ready for anything.

Dante arms himself. A pistol. A rifle. He checks the ammunition, his movements quick and efficient. He has been doing this for years. He trained me. He knows exactly what he is doing.

We get out of the car and go to the location.

On the way, all I could think about was... him.

How he embraced my submission without disgust. How he looked at me with those green eyes, fierce and commanding. How he smelt—like whiskey and something sweeter underneath. His body on top of mine. His hands on my throat. His voice ordering me around.

His green eyes. Sexy. Commanding. Perfect.

I shake my head, trying to focus. I need to concentrate. There is a job to do. A dealer to catch. A traitor to punish.

But his face keeps flashing in my mind. The way he smirked. The way he held the whip. The way he said my name.

I snap back into reality as we get to the location.

It is a dark garage. Abandoned. Mostly empty. The concrete floor is cracked. The walls are covered in graffiti. The only light comes from a single flickering bulb overhead.

This guy is so dumb. He came to a place where we can end him without any witnesses.

We enter the garage and notice we are being watched.

I freeze. My hand moves to my gun. My eyes scan the darkness.

"Dante, do you feel that?" I whisper.

"Yes, boss." His voice is low, tense. "It seems like three or four."

I nod. "Let's split up. I take the right side."

Dante nods and moves toward the left. He hates fighting up close. Ever since I have known him, he has been a long-range fighter. He trained me for years. He is my mentor. My second-in-command. My only true ally in this world.

We separate. I move into the shadows, my footsteps silent on the concrete. The darkness wraps around me like a cloak. I am in my element.

I head towards the narrow corridor and look inside the shed. The door is half-open. I slip through, my gun raised.

I walk in. The air is stale. Dust hangs in the air. I scan the room and feel the presence of one person.

I know exactly where the person is hiding. Behind a stack of old tires. In the corner. I can feel their heartbeat. Their fear.

But I want to see the person before I strike.

My one rule is not killing children or pregnant women. Everyone else is fair game.

I go to the place the person is hiding.

A knife comes swinging in my face.

I sense it fast enough to dodge. The blade slices through the air, missing my throat by inches. I spin, my body reacting on instinct.

He is fast for a normal civilian. Fast and desperate.

I quickly swing back and take out my dagger. The metal sings as it leaves the sheath.

I am not going to let him get away. But I need him alive. I need to know who was protecting the dealer.

The dealer was our ally. Finding people protecting him means he betrayed or played us. And I hate the sound of that. Betrayal is the one thing I cannot tolerate.

The fight doesn't last long.

I am faster. Stronger. More experienced. I disarm him in seconds, knocking the knife from his hand. I grab his arm, twist it behind his back, and force him to his knees.

"Who sent you?" I growl.

He spits at my feet. "Go to hell."

I smile. Cold. Dangerous. "I have been there. It is not that bad."

I tie him up, my movements quick and efficient. His hands are bound behind his back. His ankles are tied together. He is not going anywhere.

A few moments later, Dante walks in.

He is carrying the injured dealer. The dealer's face is bloody. His arm is bent at an unnatural angle. He is groaning, barely conscious.

Dante has a weird look on his face. His jaw is tight. His eyes are dark.

"We need to get away from here fast," I say.

We tie both of them up and put them in the car booth. The trunk slams shut. I slide into the driver's seat. Dante gets in beside me.

I start the engine and pull away.

"Dante, that took so long," I say. "What happened?"

Dante is quiet for a moment. Then he turns to me, his expression serious.

"Rayne, I think something is wrong. The dealer looked like bait."

I stiffen. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. "What do you mean?"

"The ambusher. The way he was waiting. The dealer being injured but not killed. It was too easy, Rayne. Too clean." Dante's voice is low. Urgent. "We need to tell your father."

"No!" I say sternly. "Whose side are you on, Dante?"

Dante meets my eyes. "Yours. Always yours. But this is bigger than us. If the dealer was bait, then someone is setting us up. Someone wants us to make a mistake."

I shake my head. "I can handle this."

"Rayne, you cannot handle this alone."

I look at him. My eyes harden. My voice drops to a whisper.

"Watch me."