Chapter Seven: The Lies We Tell

Cyrus POV

The rage completely blinded my every thought, I thought back from the moment she walked in here. How could I have been so foolish? So moved by her pussy that I failed to see it. Being the greatest Heist legend, I couldn’t afford to be foolish. I never used my dick to make decisions yet I let the taste of a good pussy cloud my judgment. But I had to admit it was indeed a tasty ass pussy. But I need to clear my thoughts off her. I need to know what her plan was, what if she was sent here to kill him.

 How dare she wear the engagement ring of the only woman he had ever loved? How dare she desecrate it with her filthy hands? He needed answers or he was going to kill her without batting an eyelash. He didn’t have the tolerance for liars and she was a conniving, manipulative lying slut.

 He applied pressure on the cuffs, the waft of her arousal on the cuffs, he used to fuck her almost making him lose his focus. It was poetic justice he thought, the same cuffs he used to fuck her, would be the very weapon that would end her pathetic life.

Amanda choked her hands flying up to claw at the restraint, tears running down her flushed face but he didn’t relent, somehow under his death grip she managed to choke out.

“I- can-n ex-plai-n” she coughs

 If he was human and had a beating heart, he would have perhaps been moved by her tears and her desperate struggle for air: Her hands trying to release herself from his iron-clad grip. But his heart died with his wife. The day she was murdered, the day he made the biggest mistake of his life by trusting someone, and not his instincts. The same instincts that had saved him from every robbery he has ever carried out. The same instincts he neglected that cost him the woman he loved, he wasn’t going to let the innocence in her eyes, cloud that judgment .He had been fooled once by his own blood, his own son. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“You are good aren’t you?” he snarled

 He presses the cuff to her neck, watching the cold metal leave red marks on her throat.

“You better tell me the truth” he hissed “Or I swear, these walls will be the last thing you ever see”

“My dear son sent you to come finish the job, he couldn’t finish all those years ago” he drew his head an inch closer. Searching her eyes for the answer he so desperately sought after. But in there was nothing but innocence and hurt. It irritated him. He wished to see guilt, a glimpse of the true person she was.

“Ple-as-e” she choked barely getting a word in.

His wife begged just like she did, he had to watch as the only woman he had ever loved bled out in his arms. Her eyes begging him to save her, her hands going cold in his and body limp ,finally giving way to the starving hands of death. He wasn’t given time to mourn ,he was dragged away from her ,despite his struggles , despite how much he yelled, screamed ,kicked. The authorities took him away from her.

His mercy died that night of his last heist, but he knew if he needed the answers he had to let her go. He could see the light disappearing from her eyes.

“Let her go Cy” The gentle voice that haunted him every single day whispered, it was the voice of his wife. She was always beside him even in death, her voice like a soothing balm to his worst night mares. His inmates thought he was going crazy the night she first spoke to him. Perhaps it was his subconscious or the manifestation of his guilt. But he could always feel her, hear her cries, her vengeful spirit hunting him seeking for justice, tasty for revenge. Just like that the spell was broken, her voice was gone and he released Amanda .She collapsed to the floor like a broken doll, gasping for air, coughing profusely her fingers clawing at her throat .Her naked body shaking in fear. A sound escaped her-half sob-half scream hoarse and broken. It disgusted him. She was such an actress

“Pathetic” he spat at her, for a moment he considered stepping closer, just to see her flinch. Just to hear her choked sounds as her lungs gave up on her. But he was calculative, it was better to make her believe it was all over.

 “I give you 30 seconds to get dressed” He walked away from her, using the moment to button up his jumpsuit. He can’t believe he had sex with her, clearly his hard on wasn’t getting the memo of the situation because it was still hard as fuck. He sat down on the bed, crossing his feet together, preventing her from seeing how watching her getting dress was awakening his little beast. She shakily wore her t-shirt not bothering to put on her bra out of sheer panic, the sweat pants followed. Cyrus pretended not to see the jiggle of her ass cheeks as she tried to get the pants up to her waist. She wore no panties considering he ripped them apart like a caveman earlier.

There was no evidence of their throes of passion nothing but the lingering smell of her cum on him and it was infuriatingly intoxicating.

Her sobs echoed over the room, her eyes didn’t dare to meet his. She sat at the far corner of the wall as if the distance could keep him away if he actually wanted to kill her.

He chuckled darkly, He had killed a 100 people once without as much lifting a finger.

“Stop with the nonsense theatrics and speak” He commanded in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, not in the way he made her feel when he was inside her. She wiped her tears, in her attempt to pull herself together, she took in shallow breaths trying to keep at bay the panic attack that threatened to surface. Finally she found the words, anger leaving a burnt taste in her mouth. How dare he? He almost killed her!!!

“You almost killed me”! She yelled at him, massaging the scars on her neck

“Princess, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead” he growled

“Don’t call me that” she snapped at him

His eyes flared.

“You are still alive, and you have 10 seconds left for that temporal situation” He warned

“Now answer me, where the hell did you get that ring?”

“And how the hell do you know I’m alive”

She glared at him, the look of defiance burning in her eyes. She couldn’t resist the urge to challenge him. Despite the impending promise of her death. She stood her ground, clearly unfazed by his threats.

“You must be dumb huh those are two questions” she chuckled bitterly

The words hit him like a frying pan on the face, he doesn’t remember moving, nor deciding to step closer to her as she desperately tried to back away from him, her back meeting the wall. Suddenly, he was close enough to watch her eyes widen in fear, to see the pulse jump in her throat when she realizes she’s crossed a line there’s no coming back from.

My hands ache to return to her neck, to rob her of her life like he had robbed a thousand banks. Her death will be so peaceful but his face, the look of his eyes; she would carry to her grave and even in death. He will torment the shit out of her.

Instead of following my inhumane thoughts, I curled my hand into a fist so tight my nails dug a hole into my palms. He was not new to pain, it was like a second skin to him, his favorite addiction.

“You, I say, my own voice sounding foreign- guttural like something dragged from a horror movie.

“Will die, on this floor and I will bury you in it” I threatened

 Her face whitened all trace of humor long gone. She quivered under my gaze.

“I won’t repeat myself again” I brushed her hair with the back of my hand, she flinched at my touch but dared not to move away.  She really was a spoiled brat. If this were another situation I would have spanked her till she bled for being so disrespectful. The soft feel of her skin took my mind to dark places yet my gaze was unrelenting, daring her to deny me answers. I didn’t know what I was hoping to hear when I saw that ring on her fingers but the words that came out of her mouth, was definitely not it.

“I am engaged to your son”

Cyrus recoiled ,letting go of her as if she burned.

Just in cue the lights came back on and there was no mistaken the look of pure hatred on his face.

“You,” he growled,

“Are engaged to that traitorous little shit?” I sat up running my hands through my hair.

“You are lying” he spat at her

She stood up walking close to him,

“Don’t you dare come an inch close to me” he warned

“It’s what I tried to explain, you sent me a letter asking me to come here” he shook his head in disbelief

She wasn’t deterred by my threat and stood in front of me with a determined look.

“How do you think I knew you were alive Cyrus?”

“Everyone thinks you are dead!!” the intercom muffling her scream, the lockdown mode had been deactivated. I guess the 24 hrs. lock down is over. I looked at her going over everything she said when she came in here, she was trying to tell me all this time but I didn’t listen. I refused to listen.

“He sent you here to kill me” I stepped closer to her, my breath swallowing hers

“He doesn’t even know, I’m here”, she tried touching me but I flinched, undeterred by the look of hurt in her eyes.

“Bullshit” my hand snapped out gripping her jaw. Not enough to hurt, just enough to scare her.

“Then why sweetheart, did you just let me fuck you raw against this cell wall?” His voice was a serrated edge, his bare chest rising with each furious breath.

“You let me cum inside you, while carrying my son’s engagement ring” His thumb brushed her lower lip, mockingly.

Her face burned, was it shame, confusion or guilt I couldn’t tell.

She swallowed ignoring my question, clearly too stunned to utter a word. She tugged at her t-shirt which I noticed she does when she is uncomfortable or deciding what next to say.

“He told me you were dead” she blurted out

“He’s a snake Cyrus snarled. “And you? You’re either a fool or a whore. Maybe both.

Tears welled in her eyes and I hated the way that single affected me.

“I couldn’t just ignore the letter you asshole”!!

“Why do you hate him so much? Marcus is a good person, your son is a good lawyer, and he fights for justice for both the poor and the voiceless.” She said, her voice desperate. His veins throbbed at the mention of his son’s name. The child that betrayed him and locked him here for the past 10 years.

“But the way you say his name” she recoils

“It’s almost like you despise him”

A harsh disbelieving laughter tore from his throat.

“You clearly have no idea who my son is princess”

“You seem to be a smart woman” he murmured, circling her like a predator.

“So ask yourself –why would my son tell you I’m dead”  Before she could respond a loud clang echoed through the cell as the lockdown disengaged .The heavy door groaned open revealing a tall, broad shouldered figure silhouetted in the doorway . I could see her freeze.

“Marcus” she whispered,

There was his son, the spitting image of his mother standing at the doorway, his face a mask of cold fury. His son who sent him to jail for ten years. The son who betrayed him and cost him the only woman he has ever loved.

 “Hello father”

He said with an evil smirk that mirrored his father’s own cruelty.