Semua Bab MY TABOO STEP DADDY : Bab 41 - Bab 50

(CARLTON’S POV)There’s nothing hidden under the sun anymore. Nothing my captor doesn’t know. It makes me want to jump into a hole forever. I did drag races from high school to college. The cops confiscated my cars many times, some of which were smashed. Dad bailed me countless times, and Mom used her influence to keep it out of the news. Still, I returned to my old ways, because car racing is my second skin, after stripping. I strip for the cash because I hate depending on my parents. On anybody. Okay, I always had an exhibitionist kink. That life died when I lost a friend while racing—burned beyond recognition while I convulsed in horror. I remember his screams echoing through the night. The wails of sirens from a distance. And how I fired acceleration and left him there… alone. Nathan, a guy who bullied me throughout high school, then cornered me in the locker room in nothing but a white towel hanging over his waist and told me how pretty I was. It was our final year. I never ha

(TRISTAN’S POV) MINE. Grinding my molars, I propel to my feet. Pain, rage, and all the vile emotions churn inside me. I lunged for Kendrick before stopping on the spot. A loud yelp, followed by Russian profanities. Kendrick staggers back inside. Yosef limps in, blood dribbling down his temples where Carlton struck him with… what? A rock? The truck’s Jack? Yosef doesn’t look at Carlton. He glares at me. The message is clear: you made a mistake. “You good?” I ask. Yosef grunts. “I’ve had worse. Focus on the trash.” Kendrick’s whimpers grow loud. He pisses himself again, begging. “I-I swear the fraternity was destroyed. Five years ago.” Yosef pulls out his Swiss knife. “Go on.”“I don’t know where the rest of the members are…” Kendrick pisses himself again. Pissing seems to be his hobby. He can piss all he wants, but it won’t save him. “B-But I can help you find them. I-I don’t get to die alone.”A startled laugh shoots from Yosef. “You’re a comedian.” No, he’s a coward wil

(TRISTAN’S POV)I’m going to fuck him on the sea.Or I’m going to drown him. I don’t know. “You mundane rat. Let me go!” Bunny yells as I approach the beach. “Mundane rat? That word is getting old,” I smack his butt. “Try something new.”I prefer the cold. I met Aurora in Russia, lost my soul in Russia, and Pyramid Brothers was born in fucking Russia. Fijidale is humid as fuck, but we adapted. Why? Because this motherfucker unknowingly wiggling his ass in my face loves it here. Hunting down Camilla’s monsters here, then flying back to Russia to fuck him. Every. Single. Day. Won’t graze my bank account. Now, I’m having a second thought, because in Russian, I don’t have to wrestle around pyres to kill the nostalgia, and I don’t have to kill anyone for touching him. He’d be locked in my bedroom, where I’ll warm him up day and night. Just us.Goosebumps smatter my skin as I approach the beach. The sand is soft and sticky, and the breeze blows from land to sea, carrying the smell of tr

(YOSEF’S POV) Concealed by thickets of trees, I watch TanBear scramble back to his wing. So I duck backwards, body glued to the tree, eyeing Carlton. I scouted the area and kept the men at bay. Nobody in sight. Only us. The coarse bark of the tree scales my palm sore. Last night, I came to report the status of the truck, but ended up sustaining a cardiac arrest. I remember stopping dead in my tracks. My fingers fiddling with my Glock. Stumbling away. When I attempted a few nights ago, he nearly shot me. But he… he let Carlton suck him off. Then I returned and collapsed at the entrance. They were so lost in themselves that they forgot the door was partially open. Tristan ditched the clothes I chose for him and wore Carlton’s instead. That boyish look, over the made men we are. As if I hadn’t died enough, they kissed in the parking lot. In front of everyone, while I stood amongst nobodies like a shadow. I push the ball down my throat. The moon looks red. The sea. Everyt

(CARLTON’S POV)Yosef’s eyes bulge in their sockets, bloodshot and wild, fixed on the sky above him. He hangs from the tree we tied him to: arm bound above his head, feet barely touching sand. The tide’s coming in, waves licking closer with each surge. Behind us, the forest edge where Tristan’s wing sits, hidden in the trees. Damon lunges for the branch in Lydia’s hands. “Don’t!” He yanks one end. Lydia yanks back, her boots digging into sand. The wood becomes a tug-of-war rope between them. Lydia mentions Caleb, and her eyes dampen. The feral retort from Damon almost knocks me to the ground. Shit! I move, dart to the side, and gasp. The branch whistles past my head, missing by inches. Their knuckles whiten, wrestling for the wood. One wants to kill. The other wants to save. Great. Yosef’s eyes burn into me. He curses, spits on the floor, and snarls. “You.” “Me what?” I snarl back. “You caused this,” he’s staring at me with his left eye and observing the duo w