Tears stung the back of Genesis’s eyes as she struggled to untie the hard knots around Carlla’s legs. When they threatened to fall, she wiped them away with her forearm—but that only made them spill faster, streaking silently down her face. Her hands shook as she worked the ties, but it was no use.
The knots wouldn’t budge.
Frustration burned in her chest. She clenched her teeth, stood up abruptly, and wiped at her face again. Carlla noticed the tears this ti. Her smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of confusion.
Why was she crying?
Genesis turned around, and Kieran instinctively stepped toward her—but she recoiled so sharply, she nearly stumbled. She caught herself just in ti, taking several steps back. Kieran froze, startled. He hadn’t expected this. None of them had.
She looked away, refusing to et his gaze, and made her way toward Damon instead—carefully avoiding Kieran like a child steering clear of a monster she once adored but now saw clearly for what he was.
Damon turned his head as she stopped in front of him. She reached for his hand, and he instinctively tried to pull away. That hand of his was still important to him. But she held it, not tightly—he could still yank it free—but sothing in her touch made him hesitate. Maybe it was the raw vulnerability in her gaze. Maybe it was the unspoken plea when she pointed toward Carlla and the ropes still binding her.
She didn’t need words.
It was clear what she was asking.
When he didn’t move, she stomped her foot in frustration. More tears rolled down her cheeks, and it hit Damon like a blow to the chest. He hated seeing her cry.
Then Knight’s voice cut through the tension.
"Untie her. Now."
Both Genesis and Damon turned to look at him. Genesis imdiately let go of Damon’s hand, and he moved toward Carlla, crouching beside her to start untying the knots.
Genesis knelt beside him, helping as best she could. With each rope loosened, sothing in her chest constricted tighter. And when the last rope fell free, Damon stood and took a small step back, stealing a glance at Knight, whose face remained unreadable.
Carlla stood slowly. Her joints cracked from the long hours spent tied up. She hadn’t even taken a full step away from the dreaded chair when Genesis rushed forward.
She gently ran her hands over Carlla’s arms, her face, her sides—checking her for injuries like a frantic mother hen inspecting her chick. Carlla stood frozen at first, stunned by the sudden tenderness. Her heart raced.
Was this really happening?
A deep blush spread across her cheeks as she realized just how beautiful Genesis was up close—delicate features, tear-streaked but still stunning. She shook her head quickly, trying to will the heat away.
This wasn’t so et-cute mont.
This wasn’t even safe.
And yet... she was blushing. Over a woman.
She was straight. Wasn’t she?
But honestly, even a straight woman would blush being this close to soone like Genesis.
Genesis gently cupped her cheek. Her touch was featherlight, trembling, but filled with sothing real. Raw. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak—but no words ca. Just a shaky breath.
Her eyes—those wide, expressive eyes—were full of apologies Carlla hadn’t asked for.
Carlla swallowed hard, the irritation she had once felt folding into sothing else entirely. Confusion. Softness. Maybe... sothing more.
Behind them, Knight stood silently. Jaw tight. Eyes dark.
But it wasn’t Genesis’s tears that stunned him most.
It was the way she had pulled away from him.
Like he was the one to fear.
His fingers twitched at his side.
"Genesis," he said softly, stepping forward.
She flinched.
He kept walking, slower now, like he was approaching a frightened deer. Genesis raised her hand—not to stop him, but to sign sothing.
Her fingers trembled as she moved them.
"This... isn’t right."
He watched, heart suddenly heavy, as she signed again:
"You saved from that chair. And now... you tied soone else to it?"
He inhaled slowly, chest rising and falling, but his face betrayed nothing. Not guilt. Not anger. Just sothing quieter. Sothing uncertain.
"I wasn’t going to hurt her," he said at last. "It was just a warning."
Genesis shook her head, lips pressed tight. Her whole body trembled with the weight of it all.
A silence followed. Thick. Suffocating.
It was Carlla who broke it.
"You’ve got yourself a good woman, Mr. Blackwood." Her voice was calr now, more sincere. "Too good for... whatever this was."
She turned to Genesis, her tone softening.
"Thank you... for standing up for . And... okay, I’ll admit it—my question earlier probably ca off rude and blunt. I apologize if it hurt you."
Genesis gave a small nod, then offered Carlla a faint, sad smile—her eyes red, but still shining. She reached up to wipe her face again, but more tears spilled over, and she gave up trying to stop them.
Knight was the first to look away.
He turned toward Damon and muttered sothing under his breath. Damon nodded, then gestured to two other n. After a brief pause, they stepped forward and flanked Carlla. Her eyes widened—so did Genesis’s—and she imdiately looked at her husband. But he said nothing.
Damon was the one who spoke. "They’ll take you ho."
Carlla gave a dry, awkward smile. "Um, no need for that. I can take myself ho. I’ve had enough trauma today, courtesy of your charming team."
Damon didn’t blink. "It’s not up for debate."
Genesis’s frown deepened, but Carlla knew there was no point arguing. The escort wasn’t for her safety—it was to make sure she kept quiet.
Carlla placed a hand on Genesis’s shoulder and gave her a smile that, despite everything, was genuine. "Thanks again. And I guess I did end up apologizing. Anyway, I’ll be fine. This is your husband’s version of making ands." She glanced quickly at Knight, then looked away just as fast—his eyes made her skin crawl.
She turned and walked toward the door. Genesis watched her go. Knight, however, was watching only Genesis.
Outside, Carlla was led to a sleek black car—unmarked, inconspicuous. As she climbed in, Damon appeared, leaning against the doorfra.
"Listen carefully," he said, voice low. "You got lucky today. Because she is who she is."
Carlla narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
Then, softer, almost like a warning disguised as kindness: "Go ho. Forget this ever happened. And pray you never cross him again."
With that, he slamd the door shut.
Carlla sat there, heart pounding. There was definitely more to Kieran Blackwood than t the eye.
She wouldn’t breathe a word of this.
Not because she was afraid.
But because she wasn’t done yet. She was going to uncover more about him.
And maybe...just maybe, she wanted to see that pretty wife of his.
In the Car...
Genesis slapped Kieran’s hand away from her thigh and pressed herself against the car door, but no sooner had she done that than he calmly placed it back, as if nothing had happened.
His other hand tapped nervously on his lap. He wanted to twirl his knife. Or his gun. Or sothing. He didn’t like sitting still, especially not when she was pushing him away.
She turned to him with a glare and shoved his hand off again. This ti, he t her eyes.
"Why, Princess?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, lips pouted. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her body language scread it: I’m mad at you.
He nodded, like that was so kind of progress. At least she was responding. It made him slightly less tense. But he still didn’t understand what he had done wrong.
He only wanted to please her.
He slid his hand back onto her thigh, this ti slipping higher, into the soft warmth of her inner thigh.
"We can still be mad at each other," he murmured, voice thick, "and still touch."
She shot him a look like he’d completely lost his mind. Her skin shivered beneath his dragging nails.
Then he leaned in—and without thinking, pulled his knife. She didn’t even notice at first, not until he began to twirl it between his fingers, right as he licked the shell of her ear.
"I live to please you, Princess," he whispered. "But I only did that because I can’t stand seeing you hurt."
His grip on her tightened, making her thighs instinctively close around his hand, trapping it. She wanted to shove him off, remind him what he did was wrong—but her brain was going soft, lting under the intensity of his touch.
Then, with terrifying gentleness, he took the dagger’s handle and rubbed it along her skin. Her eyes widened—but strangely, there was no fear.
"I hate it when you cry," he said. "It makes my chest feel... off. Like sothing’s crawling under my ribs. You shouldn’t cry unless I make you cry."
The tip of the knife touched her chin, tilting her face up to et his gaze.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Her hands were splayed against the door, nails digging into the velvet seat behind her.
He dropped to his knees in the backseat—one hand between her thighs, the other cradling her jaw like porcelain in one palm and prey in the other. His breath hitched.
"I’d carve up the whole damn world for you, Genesis," he whispered against her throat, pressing the flat of the blade to her collarbone. "Just point. You wouldn’t even need to speak."
He kissed her neck—soft at first. Then a bite, sharp enough to leave a mark.
"I beg for your attention," he murmured, dragging his lips up her jaw. "I lose sleep when you look away. When you flinch from like I’m the monster they say I am... baby, I am. But I’m your monster."
The knife clattered beside her on the seat. His hands gripped her waist, hard. He buried his face in her shoulder and exhaled like he was trying not to scream.
"Look at ."
His voice cracked.
And Genesis, heart racing, breath uneven, finally looked down at him.
He was on his knees.
Begging—without saying the word.
"Touch ," he said hoarsely. "Please. I don’t care if you’re mad. I don’t care if you hate . Just... touch . Remind I still belong to you."
And that’s when she realized the truth.
He wasn’t trying to scare her.
Not really.
He was trying not to fall apart.
And the worst part?
Her fingers twitched.
Butterflies.
Not the good kind.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that makes it hard to breathe.
The kind that makes you forget how dark it all really is.
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