Chapter 127 - ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN

Chapter 127: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN

DAMIEN

She whimpered in her sleep and my cock jerked against my zipper.

The bruises on her hips from his fingers—I pressed into them, replacing his grip with mine, digging my nails in until crescent moons appeared in her skin. The soreness between her thighs—I spread her legs wide and washed her there too, fingers pushing inside her again, claiming her cunt even as I cleaned it. I couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t stop pushing my fingers inside her just to feel her wet heat grip me.

By the time I finished, I was painfully hard. Had been since the whole game planned by my fucking sister. I couldn’t help myself. I’d been waiting too long.

I lifted her from the water and carried her back to the bed, then I stripped off my ruined clothes. My cock sprang free, thick and angry, already leaking at the tip. I wrapped my hand around myself and stroked, staring at her unconscious body on the bed.

Her arousing tits, nipples pink and hard from the baby. Her lips parted slightly. Her thighs spread, her cunt just visible where her legs were apart.

I jerked myself faster, rougher, imagining it was her hand. Her mouth. Her tight little cunt gripping me like it used to on the island.

I thought about the first time I’d fucked her. How she’d cried and fought and begged me to stop. How her body had betrayed her anyway, getting wet despite her terror, coming on my cock even while tears streamed down her face. The memory made me groan, my hand moving faster.

She’d relearn how to crawl to me on her hands and knees, open her mouth for my cock without being told.

"Fuck," I groaned, my balls tightening. "Fuck, baby girl, I’m going to—"

I came hard, groaning her name, my release splattering across her face, her tits, her stomach. Ropes of cum painting her skin white. I watched my seed slide down her cheek, across her lips, pooling in the hollow of her throat.

I reached down and smeared my cum across her skin, rubbing it into her face like lotion, making sure she was covered in me.

"Now you’re clean again," I murmured, scooping more of my release from her stomach and pushing it inside her cunt with two fingers. "Take Daddy’s cum. Let it sink into your skin. Let it fill up this pussy."

I fucked my cum deeper into her, watching her body twitch and respond even in her drugged sleep. Added more. Pushed it as deep as it would go. I wanted her filled with me when she woke up.

Soon it would be inside her properly. I’d be pumping her full of cum from my cock instead of my fist. But for now, this would do.

I grimaced at my own impatience, then dressed her in one of my shirts. I walked to the drawer to grab the first aid kit, although the bullet had grazed me, if I didn’t tend to it any sooner, I might have to meet Vincenzo in hell.

I sat in the chair beside the bed and worked, half an hour had passed by the time I was done.

So I just watched her breathe and remembered.

The auction. The night everything went to shit.

I’d been so fucking confident. So certain my plan was perfect. Angel displayed on the stage in her white dress and nothing else, the bidding climbing higher as the richest perverts in the underworld fought for the chance to own her. The whole thing was a theater—I was always going to win.

But then the tip came. Too late. Far too fucking late.

Vincenzo was planning something. Something big.

I barely made it to the underground exit when the building came down. The blast threw me into a concrete wall hard enough to crack my skull. Fire everywhere. Screams. The smell of burning flesh that I realized was my own.

I’d been trapped for three days. Buried under rubble. The council members who’d attended—all dead. My men—scattered. My empire—vulnerable.

But I’d survived.

Kovacs, my second in command who hadn’t been at the auction, found me eventually. He got me to a private hospital where doctors worked around the clock to keep me breathing.

And the whole fucking time, Angel was with Vincenzo. Falling in love with him. Calling him Daddy. Forgetting everything I’d taught her. Forgetting I loved her first.

Martha’s reports had kept me sane and driven me insane in equal measure. The old housekeeper I’d planted in Vincenzo’s mansion years ago, feeding me information about Angel’s recovery. Her growing attachment to the man who’d stolen her from me.

I’d let the jealousy and rage fuel my recovery when the pain made me want to give up.

Vincenzo had corrupted her. Turned my willing girl back into something that hated me. All the work I’d done on the island—the conditioning, the pleasure and pain woven together until she couldn’t tell the difference—was undone in a few weeks.

Fucking weeks.

Now we’d have to start over again.

Angel’s eyelids fluttered.

I leaned forward, heart pounding. I’d thought about this moment since I survived the explosion. Dreamed about seeing those baby blue eyes open and focus on my face. Imagined the love, the submission, the adoration that used to fill her expression on the island. The way she’d look up at me like I was her whole world. The way she’d whisper "Daddy" with devotion dripping from every syllable.

Her eyes opened.

And there was nothing.

Blue eyes staring at the ceiling. She was looking right through me like I wasn’t even fucking there.

"Angel." My voice came out rough. "Look at me."

Nothing. I got no response. She was vacant, staring at nothing with those empty eyes.

Cold spread through my chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

"Hey." I grabbed her chin and forced her face toward me. "I said look at me, baby girl."

Her eyes moved to my face, but there was no recognition in them. No fear or hatred. No love. Nothing at all. She was looking at me like I was something that existed in her peripheral vision but didn’t warrant attention.

What the fuck?

This wasn’t my Angel. My Angel was fire and fury. My Angel looked at me with murder in her eyes, with hatred that burned so hot it made me hard. My little girl fought me every step of the way and made breaking her the sweetest thing I’d ever done.

This... this was an empty shell. A doll someone forgot to wind up.

"Say something." I shook her, fingers digging into her shoulders.

Nothing. Just those vacant blue eyes and that slack expression.

Panic clawed at my chest. I shoved it down viciously. I didn’t panic. I didn’t doubt. I didn’t feel anything except rage and desire and the absolute certainty that the world would bend to my will.

But fuck, this was wrong. This was all wrong.

"Where’s my girl?" I grabbed her face with both hands, forcing her to look directly at me. "Where’s the Angel who said she’d kill me? Huh?"

I brought my face close to hers.

"You want to know what I did to you while you were unconscious? I washed you. Every inch. I jerked off on your face. Came all over your pretty lips while you were passed out. Then I pushed my cum inside your pussy. You’re full of me right now, baby girl. Dripping with Daddy’s seed."

I watched for a reaction. Horror. Disgust. Anything.

Nothing.

"Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you want to claw my eyes out?"

Nothing. Just emptiness.

I released her and sat back, my jaw so tight I thought my teeth might crack. This couldn’t be happening. I didn’t survive fire and months of agony just to claim an empty husk. She’d come back. She had to come back.

A knock at the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Kovacs.

I crossed to the door and opened it just enough to see through. My second in command stood in the hallway, his expression grim. I walked out with him.

"What’s the situation?"

"Both women in that house have been disposed of."

I felt nothing at the news of my sister’s death. Well, I’d shot her myself. She’s brought this on herself when she’d tried to kill Angel, and make those fucking bastards see her naked.

"And Vincenzo?"

Kovacs hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.

"Speak."

"His body wasn’t there, boss. He must have survived and escaped"

I slammed my fist into the wall, pain shooting through my wounded shoulder.

"Why won’t that bastard just fucking die?"

Jillian had shot him multiple times. He’d lost enough blood to kill three men. And still he’d somehow survived, and slipped through my fingers like smoke. I should have fucking ended him myself. Yet, I hadn’t been able to. Vin could kill me in front of Angel, but I hadn’t been able to end him myself. Call it weakness, or because we’d both been friends even though we both wanted to fuck how daughter, but I hadn’t been able to end him. Not with Angel watching.

Now, I’m deeply regretting it.

"Double the security," I snarled. "Send every available man to trace him. Check every hospital, and underground doctors. And when you find him, I want his head on my fucking desk."

"Yes, boss."

I marched back to the room, closed the door, and turned back to the bed.

For the first time, something flickered in Angel’s eyes. A spark of life in all that emptiness, she was sitting up now.

"Daddy..." Her voice came out small and hoarse, her eyes wide and glassy, "What happened to Daddy?"

She wasn’t asking about me.

Rage flared hot and immediate. But I pushed it down and crossed to the bed. I sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to stroke her hair, and she let me. "Vincenzo is dead," I told her, watching her face closely. "Along with Jillian. They’re both gone."

A lie. Vincenzo was alive—unfortunately. But she didn’t need to know that. It was better to let her grieve and break, then she’d eventually accept that I was all she had left.

Angel didn’t sob. Didn’t scream. She didn’t do any of the things I expected as I told her her fucking precious daddy had been buried.

She lay back down, tears streaming silently down her face. A broken doll leaking salt water.

I watched the tears roll down her cheeks and felt something twist in my chest. Not guilt—I didn’t feel guilt. But something. Something I didn’t like.

"Stop crying for him." My voice came out harsher than I would have wanted. "He’s gone. I’m here. I’m the one who matters now."

She didn’t respond. Just kept crying silently, staring at nothing.

I grabbed her face and forced her to look at me again.

"You hear me? Vincenzo is dead. You’re mine now. Only mine. And you’re going to forget he ever existed."

I released her and leaned down, pressing my lips to her forehead. Her skin was cold. Too cold. Like something inside her had died along with her precious Vin.

"Come back to me, baby girl," I whispered against her skin. "I’m all you have left."