BLOODY MATRIMONY

(CARLTON’S POV)

THWACK!!!

Mom’s slap cracks like tires on asphalt. I flinch, my ears ringing. 

Anger grips me as blood seeps through the cut on Tristan’s cheek. It’s as if a Cat clawed his face, adding to his psychotic streak. 

I anticipate him snapping Mom in half; he just chews gum, popping it on her face like a whore. 

Amanda grumbles out profanities. A side-eye from Mom renders her mute. 

“Definitely because of your son,” Tristan tskks. “I was the only prize you couldn’t have, but your son never even had to try.” 

“You boy fucker,” Mom grimaces, voice trembling with rage. “If the bullet wound didn’t kill you, the shame should’ve done it. Yet you bask in your promiscuity after everything you did?”

“I’m hard, bad, and a little bit mad, but shame is a luxury I can’t afford.” His eyes flit to me. “Not when I have something to be proud of.” 

The prison suit bares the scar on his chest, below his heart. I still feel the coldness of the pistol like it’s yesterday. An inch higher, and this monster would’ve been six feet below. 

“How twisted are you?” Mom’s expression crinkles. “Y-You didn’t even cheat on me with a whore but went behind my back to defy a boy left in your care!” 

Tristan’s palm seizes Mom’s neck, lifting her off the floor. He has no nails, just crusty fragments of hard flesh. His grip tightens, draining the colour from Mom’s face. 

Amber eyes halt me in my tracks. “No rush, Baby. I’m coming for you.” 

I have no words, nor heartbeat, as Mom dangles in a choke, legs kicking in the air. 

Amanda tries to pacify her father— a vain attempt. Tristan’s goons rally everyone to submission, eliciting whimpers from them. 

“You couldn’t get me up in bed. You can’t hit me right when you’re pissed,” Tristan’s gaze ransacks Mom’s form. “What is your usefulness?” 

“You’ll kill her, you lunatic!” I protest. 

“One more word and I’ll forget what we shared.” Tristan's voice is steel. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Haven’t you heard ‘Devil may cry?’” A shaky laugh leaves Mom. “The government will come for you. How many will you and your weasels kill? Hundreds, thousands, millions? No, you can’t.” 

Tristan chuckles, broken, dark. “I swear on my life, you and your host of demons will pay for destroying Camilla.” 

Mom’s pupils dilate as if she's seen a ghost. 

Who’s Camilla? 

What is he talking about? 

Three men mosey forward, bearing vaulted boxes, before bowing their heads in respect. “Bishop.” 

Mom topples to the ground, bellowing, clutching her neck. 

The devil closes in on me like smoke. 

Terror rears me back, but his arm manacles my waist, pinning me into him.

Something hard stabs my abdomen— his erection, throbbing and obscene.

I don’t peer down before my fist crashes into his nose.

His face remains blank, but the swirl of his irises confirms how furious and aroused he is. 

I rush out before he speaks, “Save your apologies, I’ll only forgive you when you’re six feet below.” 

His laughter settles in my groin, stiffening my balls despite everything. “Still feisty, like the fuck-toy I remember.”

Glancing at the door, I set my jaw. 

Anti-crime squad should’ve been here by now, the longer this lunatic is here, the harder It Is to decide whether to stab him in the heart or give him a welcome-back blow job. 

A squeak of iron grabs my attention. Tristan nods, and the first man opens his box. 

“Carlton, let’s—” Mom’s neck twists, cutting off her words. 

Amanda steps back, rubbing her wrists with a mischievous smirk. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” 

“Well done,” Tristan compliments his daughter in Russian. 

Mom is a bitch, but she’s still my fucking MOTHER. And this daddy-wannabe just snapped her neck, even after what I did for her?!

“SNITCH!” Clawing at Amanda’s face, calloused hands jerk me back. “I’d rip out your gut and shove it down your throat! She took care of you while this bastard rots in jail. How dare you?!”

Tristan’s Jaw traps my neck, igniting flares of hatred and something I shouldn’t feel. “She’s not dead, but when you know her atrocities, you’ll wish she were.” 

I barely recover when my gaze catches the content of the first box. 

My cock jumps, nails digging into my palms. 

My favorite underwear of his, smeared with dried cum, and a salty, musky smell. 

“Does it still turn you on?” Tristan’s breath falls on my neck like pinpricks. “Seeing Daddy in red boxer briefs, falling on your knees to worship my cock, while I fuck your throat in the dark.” 

I fight his Innuendos, but they spread through me like a virus, killing the flicker of vengeance inside me. 

Precum leaks through my pants, washing the effects of people’s eyes on me.

I’m too hard to be ashamed. 

Worse, I’m standing on sacred ground, the holy altar, but angels don’t stop the devil from ministering to me. “Swallowing my cum like an eager little slut. Scared of being caught, because everyone will know how rotten I’ve made you.”

Amanda’s gaze tapers, but she doesn’t scold her Father even as he licks the pulse on my neck. “I gave you money, orgasms… my heart.”

I despise the moan that escapes me, “You gave me lies. I was your corpse-in-progress. Life with you was guilty.” 

His teeth clamp my throat, pressing dangerously close to my windpipe. “You never accepted yourself!” 

I rasp as he pulls back. “You sullied me.” 

His fingers trace the bite mark, soothing the burn. “I kept this second gift as a souvenir. It reminds me I’m your Kryptonite. Without Tristan, there’s no Carlton.” 

Hatred wilts my arousal. “You’re still suffering from delusions of grandeur if you think I missed.” 

The man unlids the second box, producing a small, metal mass.

Deja Vu slices spleen to bone. 

“Tell me you missed my heart by mistake and not something deeper?” Tristan's voice borders between rage and desperation. 

The same bullet I shot him with years ago, painted with his blood. 

Tears stream from my eyes. “There’s nothing deep between us.” 

His chest morphs to marble; the words affect him, but he doesn’t probe. “This last gift is a testament to the lengths I’ll go to own you. To make you pay for testifying against me in court.” 

My gut churns like sewer water. “No…” 

“You don’t know how it feels to die a million times a day, glancing at the iron bars, hoping to see the face haunting my dreams. Just for once.” His tears drop onto my shoulder. 

My voice breaks. “You killed my Father…” 

“You left me!” Three charged words, but they hit me like lightning. “You made me a laughing stock among Wardens, Inmates… made me question what I felt.” 

I want to tell him I dreamt of him, felt the ghost of his touch on my skin, heard his voice in the dark, but the words rise and fall on my tongue. He doesn’t deserve an explanation. He broke me. 

Tristan sniffles, wipes his eyes, and laughs. “Fuck! You made me cry. You’ll pay for it.” 

The man opens the third box, unleashing a sharp stench of blood. 

My ribs constrict, empty, familiar eyes glare at me, horror ripping through me like a chainsaw. 

I stagger, scream, retching out bile across the floor. 

My best friend’s severed head in a box. Face waxy and neck jagged like barbed wire. She suffered. 

We never reconciled, never said goodbye.

Tristan has taken her away from me.

He has taken everything. 

He’s killed my SOUL. 

A hand rubs my back, and I flinch defensively, chest heaving, Selene’s empty eyes stapled into my vision. 

“She took you away from me. She paid in blood. I did it for us, Bunny.” 

Hot tears pour down my cheeks. “You’re heartless…”

“Only me and you,” he snarks. “I’ll marry you, fuck you so hard you bleed, and splinter your heart as you did mine.” 

I curse myself for missing. 

One FUCKING inch. 

But no! I valued orgasms over revenge. 

Look where it landed me. 

The hooligans roughly handle the priest to the altar, pressing a dagger to his throat. 

Amanda whines. “Father, what are you doing?” 

“What I should have done years ago.” Tristan deadpans.

The Priest whimpers, instinctively observing the matrimony rights.

Scriptures flap, prayers echo, Tristan’s voice booms. “I do.” 

I don’t remember saying my vows, nor when a diamond ring slips between my fingers. 

Pressure mounts on my jaw, knocking my breath, as rough lips crash against mine. His stubble prickles my face, his hands bunching my hair, possessively aggressive. 

Whiskey, weed, and blood erode my taste buds. 

Tristan kisses like it’s a crime. 

His tongue plunges through my mouth, tilling down my throat, greedy for every drop of saliva. 

I can’t breathe or blink. Just frozen as his lips claim me ravagely. 

He retreats with a growl. 

Blood drips down my chin, vision blurring. 

My mouth is bruised and numb at the same time. 

A hangover hammers my skull.

I’m going to pass out. 

“I said I won’t kiss you until we’re married, and when I do, you’ll bleed,” Tristan’s tone drips with sin. “Look at you, bleeding for me. My beloved husband.” 

An altar servant vomits. The priest trembles so badly the Bible falls. Someone in the pew screams, “Abomination!” which earns him a gunshot to the head. 

The crowd gasps collectively, their faces a cocktail of horror and trepidation.

Amanda looks like she’d combust into flames. But I’m already married to the devil. There’s no going back. 

Black licks at my sight. 

I’ll never be found, but I’d end him before letting him desecrate me. 

For DAD. 

For SELENE.

Tristan smirks, feral, hefting me onto his shoulder. “When I’m done with you, you’d curse the day you drew your first breath.” 

The darkness swallowed me.