Little Stranger (The Web of Silence Duet, #1)

by Leigh Rivers

I shoulder past Malachi and run to the kitchen, slamming my fist on the emergency button on the wall, sending signals to the nearest cop car and ambulance.

Thats fancy

“I’ll give you a head start,” I snarl, trembling, the sirens already sounding nearby. “Run, Malachi.”

Wtf

I know the real you. Not this fake façade you show to those near you—your posture, your style of clothes, the way you let those delicate moans slip free when you ride your own hand, thinking of what we could’ve had if you hadn’t testified against me.

Oh

Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Fucking sorry. That damn word echoes in my psyche—a curse that won’t fuck off. Sorry’s just a word to try to get out of something, to dodge trouble if you’ve been caught out. Sorry’s a five-letter disgrace that shouldn’t even need to be used. It should be abolished from the fucking dictionary. Actions do speak louder than words, and if she’s as sorry as she makes out in her voicemails, then why does she sometimes look happy? Why is she going out partying with her friends? Kissing guys who—shockingly—vanish days later?

Hello????

She’s hasn’t even met the fucker. Mom seems to be giving her some time before the wedding is booked. A wedding I’ll blow the fuck up if it goes ahead. I’ll make sure I kill my dad this time, and I’ll strangle Mom with his intestines and force Olivia to marry me instead, then I’ll cage the bitch and feed her my cock when she’s hungry.

Sir...

I sit forward and open up my search bar, hunting to see if there’s any way to perform a hysterectomy safely at home, but I fail to find a single article. I huff and lean my elbow on the desk, fist to my temple, and wonder if I can drug the guy and hire a doctor to snip him.

Meds my dear

Turning on my side, I open her drawer and pull out her journal. Total invasion of privacy, but it allows me to see into her head without needing to split open her skull and inspect her brain with a magnifying glass.

Yes journal not brain

Ridiculous—I don’t want to kill her; I want to crush her. There’s a difference.

Right

Come on, Malachi, I urge myself. Say something. “Kai,” I say quietly. The fewer syllables, the easier it is to talk.

Ooo

I nod, and she blushes again before heading back to her apartment. I want to crack her skull open and feed her the gray matter of her brain, because what the fuck is she doing inviting a stranger out?

Logical

I flip the screwdriver in my hand a few times then tuck it into my back pocket, checking to see if my motorbike helmet fits over my mask, but it doesn’t, so I chuck it aside and settle on using the gas mask instead.

Unsafe

It clenches, and I smirk to myself as I bring my cigarette to her mound, just above her clit, and press the burning end to her skin. Only for a split second, but it’s enough to make her scream a strangled scream—then moan as I drag my tongue up her glistening slit and suck on the area I just burned.

EXCUSE ME

Behind her again, I let my blood trickle down her back, spreading it all over with my palm, watching it seep into the crevasse of her ass.

That isnt lube

“Jesus, Malachi. What the hell are you doing?” She could be asking me a number of things here. Why did you fuck me while I was unconscious? Why did you shove a screwdriver in my ass? The chains? The spider? The cuts and bites and burn marks?

All good questions

Please choose me. Nobody ever chooses me.

Why am i crying

Something weird is happening to me. My chest is sore, and my eyes feel immense pressure, and they’re… wet. I think I might be crying for the first time in my life. She opens the door, but I rush in front of her, blocking her exit as I drop to my knees and grab her hands. “Olivia,” I whisper clearly. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay with me.”

Wow im so sad

I don’t turn around to watch her walk out of my life for good.

Wow i hate her

Epilogue 1

Wow really…

“You’re human,” he says, softening his tone. “Come here, angel.” I move forward, crouching down so he can take my hand. “I’m going to get you out of this. Not necessarily so you can run into your bro— Malachi’s arms, but I want you to be free from this life. Your mother—she’s insistent on power and traditions. She signed the agreement without my knowledge.”

Aww dad

Malachi, despite all his craziness, deserves better than me.

Try

“You’re mine, Malachi. You’re mine and I’m yours and I love you more than words can explain. Please forgive me. Please. I want you. I want to be with you, build a life with you, and make memories with you. I want to wake up every morning with you by my side. I want you to chase me through these woods and take me against a tree. I want everything you have to give. All of it. Everything. Because I choose you. I—”

Good girl

I inhale, my nostrils flaring as I tamp down my rage at the thought of her marrying someone else. I was giving her space to think about her choice while still watching from afar. I’d planned to hang the bastard with his own tie on their wedding night. Or kick the door of their honeymoon suite off its hinges and blow his fucking head off for even thinking he could have Olivia.

So glad hes calmer

I’ll kiss her and remind her that I’m not her real brother; I’m not a sibling with any blood relation. I’ve accepted I’m sick, because I fucking love when she calls me her brother while she’s taking my cock like the best little sister there is.

Medication is working

“Are you sorry?” She nods. “I am. I’m so, so, so sorry. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” My nose grazes hers as I lower my face, kissing her softly. I take her bottom lip between mine, sucking lightly, then I do the same with the top. “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” she moans as I push into her, feeling her walls strangling my cock, her orgasm still lingering. “Yes. A million times yes. We’ll find a way.”

Wow congrats

She’s scared of him. I should do something about that. I couldn’t protect my mother from all the drug dealers and addicts who were constantly in and out of my house. All I could do was hide under my bed with my pet spider, who never wanted to talk back to me. Every day and night, we would hide under my bed. He was my best friend. But he never ever spoke, so why would I? He was happy without using his voice. I could be happy as well. He was my comforter. My protector. If he could conceal his voice and be brave enough to hide under my bed and not cry, then I could too.

Omfg. Im so sad