Chapter 4: Owned By Him

“Please sir. I’m begging you” she breathed. So soft it barely existed. Like her last shred of will had shattered on her tongue.

He grabbed her throat again.

Not gentle.

Not hesitant.

Not merciful.

He wrapped his fingers around her neck like he fucking owned it, like it wasn’t part of her anymore but an extension of him. Her breath hitched. Her hands flew up to his wrist, those fragile fingers clawing at his grip, but it only made his cock harder.

His eyes locked onto hers, burning..furious, hungry, unholy.

“Do you have any fucking idea how pretty you look like this?”

He squeezed just enough to make her eyes widen and her thighs twitch against each other like a desperate, soaked little slut.

“You’re dripping. Weak. Covered in your own piss. And you’re still whimpering like you think I’ll let you go.” His voice was a growl dragged through a smirk, sharp and brutal and so goddamn sure of her destruction.

His lips ghosted her ear, searing and sinful.

“That’s the fucking problem with good girls like you. You beg for mercy with your mouth… but your body?” He dragged the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear. “Your body begs for something filthier.”

She choked on a gasp, her knees wobbling.

He released her throat and she coughed, stumbling back, but he caught her before gravity could claim her. His arm snapped around her waist, yanking her into him like she weighed nothing, her soaked body smashing against the rigid heat of his chest.

“You smell like terror,” he whispered into her neck, inhaling her like he was getting high on her fear. “It’s making me fucking hard.”

She froze. Her heart beat so loud he felt it hammering against his ribs.

His hand slid down to her ass, gripping the wet denim like he had every right, like it was custom-fitted for his filthy palm.

“Look at you,” he hissed. “Ruined already. And I haven’t even fucking started.”

Her knees buckled.

He held her up, smiling darkly.

“You pissed yourself the moment I touched you,” he growled, pressing her harder against him. “Imagine what you’ll do when I fuck you. When I shove my cock so deep inside you, you forget your own name.”

She gasped—sharp, raw, feral. A sound cracked from her throat, fear tangled with something darker. Something hotter. Something she didn’t want to name.

“You’re coming with me, pretty doctor,” he snarled, dragging her body tighter against the heat of the gun wedged between them. “And when I’m done with you… you’ll forget what it felt like to be clean.”

He dragged his tongue across her jaw, slow and claiming, tasting the mix of rain, tears, and her breaking.

“I’m not going to kill you, bella,” he whispered, breath hot against her skin. “I’m going to use you. Break you. Fuck the innocence right out of your soul until the only thing you know is the sound of my voice and the stretch of my cock.”

She whimpered again—but it wasn’t just fear anymore.

It was shame. Need. Heat.

And he felt it.

“Oh yeah,” he purred, brushing his lips against hers, but not kissing. Never giving her what she wanted. “You feel that, don’t you? You don’t want to. But your cunt knows who owns it now.”

His hand slid around to the front of her jeans, palm pressing hard against the soaked fabric, fingers dragging down over her pulsing heat.

Her legs shook violently.

“Sir please…”

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing a soaked, filthy finger to her lips. “Don’t speak. Just remember this moment. The moment your old life ended. And mine fucking began.”

He grabbed her jaw, tilting her face up to his, licking her tears from her cheek like they belonged to him.

“Mine now.”

He stepped back, eyes black with hunger, voice feral with possession.

“Let’s go. You make me chase you again, I’ll put you on your knees in the middle of the fucking street and fuck you right here in the goddamn rain.”

“No!!!!!” she screamed, thrashing. “Let me go!!! Ethan!!!!!! I don’t wanna come with you, sir!!!!”

“I… I didn’t see anything,” Her hands fumbled against the wall behind her as she tried to push herself away from the man stalking toward her. “I swear to God, I won’t tell anyone….I won’t go to the police….I’ll pretend this never happened, just please…”

“Please let me go.”

Dominic tilted his head, those bottomless black eyes scanning her slowly. Drinking her in. From the piss-soaked denim clinging to her thighs.

“Let you go?” he murmured, almost tenderly.

He leaned in.

The gun gleamed in his grip, still warm from the kill.

“I kill men for blinking at me wrong,” he said,

“And you think I’m going to let you go?”

“I swear…please…I’m not gonna tell anyone…I didn’t even see his face…I don’t even know the person you killed…I have short term memory….i swear to God sometimes I forget my own name….I didn’t know what I was looking at…just please…”

She tried to crawl backward. Slipping in her own piss. Her palms scraping through gravel. Her knees dragging through mud and blood, slick and cold.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered. “Please don’t take me. I don’t want to go with you.”

“I’ll forget everything. Every fucking thing. I swear to God. I’ll go home, I’ll never speak of this again, please. I’m not built for this. I’m not like you. I don’t belong in this…..

He grabbed her face mid-plea, cutting her off with bruising fingers.

His grip was merciless. His thumb dug into her cheek. His palm flattened against her jaw, forcing her mouth open with a gasp.

“Not like me?” he hissed, breath a demon’s heat against her lips. “You think this world gives a shit what you’re built for?”

She sobbed, her hands clawing at his wrist, her nails desperately scratching him.

“You think you get to choose whether you belong in it or not?”

He leaned in until their foreheads touched. Until his voice vibrated in her bones.

“You walked into my world, little doctor. You chose the wrong fucking alley. Heard the wrong scream. And now you want to beg your way out?”

She nodded wildly, tears soaking her face.

“Yes…yes…I’ll do anything…just not this. Don’t take me with you. Please…I just want to go home. I’m not a threat to you. Just let me live. Let me fucking live.”

That last word ripped from her throat in a scream.

Dominic let go.

She crumpled into the ground.

And he stood there.

Smiling.

Watching her fall apart like it was entertainment.

“You think this is about sparing you?” he asked, voice cold and unhurried. “You think I didn’t already make that decision the second you screamed?”

He stepped toward her.

She tried to back away on her elbows, slipping again.

He crouched beside her like a predator admiring its catch.

“You don’t get to beg anymore,” he murmured, inches from her trembling lips. “You don’t get to choose what happens next.”

He snatched her wrist and yanked her violently to her feet.

She screamed again, legs collapsing beneath her weight.

“No…no, please, PLEASE…I don’t want to go with you!”

“You are,” he growled, dragging her against his chest, his breath hot and vile against her ear. “And you’re going to learn exactly what it means to belong to me.”

His hand closed around the back of her neck, shoving her face against his soaked shirt.

“And if I hear you beg to be let go one more fucking time again….

He wrenched her head back by the hair. Her gasp punched the air.

“…I will fuck you right here in this alley. With your tears on my cock and the rain soaking your screams and then burst your brains out and throw you down the bridge! So keep your fucking mouth shut!

Her breath caught. Froze.

Time stopped around them.

And then he let her go.

She collapsed against him, sobbing.

And he held her like a thief clutching stolen treasure.

“Mine now,” he whispered into her hair, voice heavy with possession. “And when I’m done with you, even God won’t recognize what’s left.”