Ultimate Sin

by Clarissa Wild

  When it hits the middle of his chest, I yell, “Bull’s-eye! That’s twenty-five points. So close to zero now. And you know what that means?”

  He closes his eyes momentarily, almost as if he’s praying or something.

  “Hey, fuckwad, I’m talking to you,” I say, spitting on him. “Look at me.” I push another knife underneath his chin to force him to look at me. “You and I … we’re almost done. That means death is next.”

  He lets out an exasperated sigh, almost as if he’s relieved.

  I cock my head and squint. “Would you like that, huh? Do you want me to kill you?”

  “Please …”

  “Anything but the pain, huh?” I smile. “I guess nothing’s worse than being my toy. Maybe I should have some mercy.”

  He nods, pleading with his eyes.

  “Or maybe not,” I muse.

  And then I slice off another one of his fingers.

  I continue cutting until he’s rid of them all, left with nothing but stumps. I stop only when the blood has painted his body and the floor beneath him red, squirting all over my shirt until he’s completely emptied out and his head hangs lifelessly against his chest.

  I lift it up by his hair, forcing him to look at me with the last shred of energy he has left. “Do you think I’ll go to hell for this?”

  He nods.

  I grin. “Yeah, I think so too. But you know, the fun part will be when I meet you there. Bye for now.”

  With one quick jab, I shove the knife in the back of his neck, pushing through until it pierces the front. Gurgling sounds leave his mouth as he chokes on his own blood gushing down his esophagus. I leave him gasping for his very last breath while I get up.

  As I open the door of his cell with blood on my hands and face, I glance back at my victory. This pig won’t ever snitch again.

  Covered in his own blood, he sits on the chair like a doll stolen of life right in front of him. I can’t be bothered with cleaning up the mess he made; I’ll leave that up to the maids. They’ll have to do it quickly, though, because this cell needs to be ready tomorrow for the next victim … a very special one I probably won’t forget anytime soon.

  With a grin on my face, I leave the cell, already pumped for what’s in store.

  Twenty-one days of pain.

  ***

  Sky

  My mamma named me after the thing she loved to stare at the most. Every day, she would tell me I would grow up to be someone special. Something bigger than this world. Something I could never imagine.

  I envied her ability to see beyond what our eyes could see … to witness the beauty of this world, even if horrible people tainted it.

  She, out of all people, knew all too well what kind of monsters hid in the dark.

  And yet, she faced it anyway so she could do what was right.

  She was always right.

  I never understood what she meant when she’d told me I would one day find out the true meaning behind my name. Why she named me after the vastness that enveloped our world. She’d spin me around in her arms and called me her world … her Sky.

  One day, she’d say, I’d understand what it meant.

  But then the day came that I was no longer her world. She’d stopped spinning and so had I. Everything had ceased to exist.

  And then my sky came crashing down on top of me.

  Day 1

  Sky

  My cake goes untouched as I stare at the fork in my hand. I can’t swallow another bite. I thought I could celebrate, that I could forget my worries for just a few minutes despite my parents not being here with me. Even though it’s my birthday, it feels as though I’ve aged fifty years in one day.

  Drops of rain clatter against the windows when the phone rings again. My heart beats in my throat, and I immediately pick it up from the table. The sound of the melody sends a shiver down my spine because the last time I heard it, my papà cried over the phone. Threats were issued. People were shouting and screaming. And then a few gunshots.

  The line was cut off.

  My heart stopped at that moment, and I rushed to gather everything.

  However, my body is still weak; my muscles are barely able to support my fragile body. My thin frame wasn’t ready to carry such a hefty burden, and now it would have to run.

  I knew then that I would never make it out in time. I would never be able to outrun them.

  As I hold the phone to my ear, I listen to the heartbreaking sound of my papà’s unsteady breathing.

  “Papà, are you okay?” I whisper.

  The sudden feeling of my best friend’s hand on my shoulder almost makes me jump up, but I appreciate her support.

  My papà groans. “I’m sorry, bambina. They tortured me. I’m so sorry.”

  “Papà, what did you do?” I say. My friend and I exchange worried looks.

  He coughs, spitting up something. Probably blood. “I told them where you’re staying. I’m sorry.”

  Lightning strikes at the moment my heart stops beating.

  “They’re coming. Run. Hide.”

  This is it. I knew this moment would come, but I am prepared … prepared to sacrifice everything I have.

  I look at my friend, and she nods silently. We both know what we must do.

  “I’ll go grab everything,” she says.

  She grabs my hand and squeezes it tight before leaving the room. I sigh and return my attention toward the phone. “I understand.”

  “I’m so sorry, bambina. I’m so sorry …” My papà begins to cry, and it makes me shake in my boots. The raindrops outside cascade in rivers down the window, casting a dark shadow over the bedroom.

  “I love you, bambina,” he says after a while.

  “I love you too, Papà.” My voice fluctuates, emotions taking over as I almost crush the phone in my hand, so I decide to end the call.

  A lightning strike tears my eyes away from the window. Being so close to danger makes me realize just how much my desire to protect has grown.

  I have to make sure those men never get close to my secret.

  Never.

  Even if it costs me my freedom. My life.

  I will sacrifice everything.

  “I have everything.”

  I turn around at the sound of her voice. Smiling, I say, “Thank you, Jamie. I’m sorry you had to endure me at your place.”

  “Nonsense, you were always welcome and that will never change,” she says as I walk toward her.

  I hug her tight, and we exchange looks and sighs. It’s tough to say good-bye; neither of us wants to say the words, even though we both know that fate has caught up with me.

  “Are you ready?” I ask her.

  “Yes, but are you sure?” she says, grabbing my shoulders.

  “Yes. I won’t be able to outrun them. Not like this.” I look down at my body, which still feels broken and tired of fighting after a month has passed.

  “I could help you,” she says.

  I shake my head. “No. I’d only drag you down. I want you to be okay, so you have to go without me.”

  “All right,” she says after taking a big breath.

  Suddenly, a loud screech is audible outside. I rush to the window and stare outside. Three, maybe four, black cars park outside the building with the lights still on.

  “They’re here!” I shout.

  I grab everything and give it to her, loading her up with as much as she can carry. “Be quick,” I say, as I push her toward the window.

  “You want me to climb?” she asks.

  “They’re already here. It’s too late to go through the door.”

  She puts everything in her bag and ties it around her shoulders, making sure everything is safe and secure. “All right. I’ll take the fire escape.”

  “Make sure they don’t see you,” I say as I open the window.

  Rain gushes down the drains, and the moment I stick out my head, I’m already drenched. “There. Use that ladder.” I point outside.

 
She nods and then gives me one more look. Even in times as dire as these, I still can’t help but give her a hug. It’s my way to thank her because the help she’s offering is invaluable.

  “Be safe,” she whispers in my ear. “Come back. You know where I’ll be.”

  I nod and pat her on the back, but then I hear people stomping up the stairs. They’re coming. She has to get out now.

  “Go!” I yell.

  I help her through the window, holding on to her until she’s on the ledge. With her agile body, she’s quick to slide along the side and safely jump to the fire escape. My heart beats in my throat as I watch her climb down the ladder and run to the other side of the building, into the back alley, and across the street to safety. She knows this city like no other; it’s her birthplace, so I know she’ll be safe. She knows how to get around.

  I, on the other hand, am trapped in her apartment with nothing but a few kitchen knives to protect myself. But I won’t go down without a fight.

  I run to the kitchen and sift through all the drawers until I find what I’m looking for. Armed with a big chef’s knife, I turn and walk around the table just when I hear them ram the door and it flies open. They didn’t even ring the doorbell … I guess the time for negotiations has passed.

  Sliding along the wall of the kitchen, I close the door slightly by giving it a push. Only a small gap remains. I fish a makeup mirror out of one of the drawers and hold it up so I can peek through and watch them enter the apartment. Men with black masks covering their faces and guns in their hands search the rooms, throwing everything upside down. The couch tilted and kicked, tables shoved, and chairs crushed by the sheer force of their attack. They look like people who won’t give up searching for me until I’m dead underneath their very boots.

  I swallow away the fear and look for an opening. The moment they move into the bedroom, I see a chance. I pull open the door and bolt through the hallway toward the front door. My body shakes, adrenaline pushing me forward, sweat drops trickling down my back as I run to my freedom.

  The sound of a metallic click behind me makes me stop and turn on my heels.

  One of them has stayed behind and now has his gun aimed straight at me.

  “Going somewhere, love?”

  A hand appears out of nowhere, covering my mouth.

  I squeal.

  He wraps his other hand around my waist, preventing me from moving. One quick jab to my stomach and the knife drops from my hand. A pungent smell enters my nose, filling my lungs. My muscles grow weaker the more I inhale. I tell myself not to breathe, but I can’t stop my gasps while I’m under this amount of stress. It’s too late. I’ve already succumbed to the poison.

  “Take her.” One of the men flicks his fingers. “Let’s go.”

  The man forces me out of the apartment, and the more I struggle, the stronger his grip around my waist becomes. They drag me through the hallway while I scream and kick as hard as I can, trying to alert the neighborhood of what’s happening here.

  “Shut up!” the one holding me spits in my ear.

  He pulls me downstairs, my feet smacking down the steps as I struggle to keep up. Due to the drug, my muscles have almost stopped working to the point of me feeling so dizzy I want to puke, but I have no energy left. I force my eyes to stay open as they take me downstairs and outside into the pouring rain. That’s when it all dawns on me.

  I might not make it out of this alive.

  In my head, I apologize to Jamie for already breaking my promise, but I tell myself it’s for the best. As they open the door to their black SUV and lift me up, I take one last look at the gray sky above me. I wonder if this will be the last time I ever see it.

  Then a blow to the back of the head knocks me down into the backseat.

  The last thing I hear is a whisper in the dark. “It’ll all be over soon …”

  Click here to read on!

  ***

  Liked Ultimate Sin? You may also enjoy Mr. X

  *Author Note: This is not your average romance story. Some people will kill for love.*

  He’s come to kill me.

  I’m a user and abuser of my own body. In my darkest hour I sold my soul to the devil and now I must pay the price. With his gun to my head I have no choice but to listen and obey, but I refuse to go down easily. Nothing is stronger than the will to survive. My instincts kicked into full gear the second he stepped into my motel room.

  Except when I look at him I see my own heart staring back at me. A history tainted by blood.

  I don’t know his name, but I know he wants me. To save myself I’ll sacrifice my sanity. My body. My soul. Something tells me the x-shaped scar that marks his eye is the only escape I have. He is Mr. X; the man who comes to claim my life. Can I save myself before he demands my heart?

  WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, strong language, drugs and alcohol, and graphic violence.

  Read it now!

  ***

  More books by Clarissa Wild

  Dark Romance

  Mr. X

  Delirious Series

  Stalker

  Killer (prequel to Stalker)

  Twenty-One (21)

  Ultimate Sin

  New Adult

  Fierce Series

  Blissful Series

  Erotic Romance

  The Billionaire’s Bet Series

  Enflamed Series

  Visit Clarissa Wild on Amazon for current titles.

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  ***

  About Clarissa Wild

  Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author, best known for the dark Romance novel Mr. X. Her novels include the Fierce Series, the Delirious Series, Stalker, and Twenty-One (21). She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.

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