109
Many years later…
Clinton
The taste of blood still lingered in my mouth, as it had for years, with the metallic scent hanging in my nostrils. I frequently reminded myself of the reason behind it.
My brother’s blood was etched into my skin, a permanent mark I could never wash away.
Why was it getting harder to stay focused, to hold onto my burning need for revenge? Because of a woman—an innocent bird I couldn’t wait to ensnare, to lock away in a gilded cage.
Maybe forever.
Obsession.
My father had always said that anything someone needed in life became an obsession, and obsessions should be condemned. I’d laughed it off more than once, but as I stood there, watching the stunning woman cross the campus, I realized my desire to own her had become my biggest weakness.
Ava Summers had no clue that she wasn’t just being hunted by one monster, but by three.
For years, I’d wanted nothing more than to destroy her, to make her pay for a horrific event long buried in the past. She was easy prey—unguarded, unaware. Her father’s arrogance, thinking no one knew the truth about him, had led him to let down his guard. I’d spent months planning to use that arrogance against him.
The memory of the worst night of my life flashed before my eyes. Ava would pay dearly for my brother’s death.
My father didn’t need to order me to hunt. I’d started on my own at thirteen. But it took me seven years to track down my target, and two more to perfect my plan. The violent life I was born into made death a normal part of the game.
I was an expert at delivering punishment, more creative in my methods than anyone in my family. The thought of taking what was most precious to my brother’s killer sent adrenaline surging through me. I could almost taste the sweet release of revenge.
The man known as the Iceman was a killer for hire, an assassin who worked for those wealthy enough to afford him. Little was known about him, a man who masked his true self behind the image of a respectable citizen while committing savage acts in the shadows. But I’d been given a gift years ago—a single glimpse of a scar on his right hand, a burn from a mission that had nearly ended him.
In all those years of planning my revenge for my brother’s murder, I’d learned many lessons from my ruthless father, including patience. I also knew that the most satisfying retribution was the kind that pierced straight through a man’s heart.
His daughter would be the key to my revenge.
But my plans had shifted after months of watching her, stalking her. Now, I craved more than just her blood. I wanted her body too.
Ava Summers had no idea that soon she’d belong to three powerful, merciless men.
Only after her father witnessed her final submission would I grant him the mercy of death.
"She’s incredible," Weston Augustine murmured beside me. "I can’t wait for my first taste." Weston was one of my closest friends, nearly as twisted as I’d become. His charm and easy smile masked his true nature, fooling everyone into believing he was harmless. But I knew better—I knew his darkest secrets and his love for cruelty. That’s why we got along so well.
"One of many, I assure you." Grinning, I shot him a glance before heading toward the dorm she shared with a girl already under the Elite’s control. Our group had deep roots, descendants of some of the most powerful figures in the country—many of whom operated outside the law. Our influence was unmatched, our true wealth kept off the books. It was no secret that graduates of this elite college were destined to one day rule the world.
As if we weren’t already doing so.
"Does her father even know she’s being hunted?" Christian asked, walking beside me. His thick Latin accent had nearly faded after years immersed in American culture. As the eldest son of the Madrigal Cartel in South America, his future was set just like mine. Soon, we’d both take the reins of powerful crime empires, inheriting them from our fathers. He was almost as ruthless as I was, which is why he was part of my inner circle.
The three of us were close. Over the years, we’d carried out the necessary violent acts expected in our line of work, eliminating anyone who threatened our families.
Loyalty was the first rule. Secrecy the second. Obedience the third.
Anyone who broke even one rule was exiled.
Or worse.
We’d all endured a grueling initiation, one that only the toughest could survive. Now, we were in charge of the estate where our members lived, wielding more power than even our ancestors. Not even the school administration could touch us. But capturing and controlling sweet Ava would be our crowning achievement.
“If he doesn’t know, then he’s a fool. I heard The Iceman is preparing for retirement.” My response was brief. Maybe the bastard thought he could retire in peace, spend his days soaking up the Florida sun.
"Where do you get your intel?" Weston asked, clearly eager to reap the rewards of our plan.
"You know I have my sources." I had spent years tracking The Iceman’s moves, digging into his past, and finally uncovering the real identity he had worked so hard to conceal. Xavier Summers had aged considerably in recent years, the birth of his only child a late surprise to him and his wife. To most people, he was just a friendly man who owned a twenty-year-old Italian restaurant in Chicago, along with a food distribution company that operated in fifteen states. Many knew of his wealth, but his modest lifestyle—no flashy cars, no expensive gifts for his wife—kept him off the radar.
That’s how he’d survived, protecting his family all these years. If it weren’t for a second slip-up in his long, storied career, I’d never have pieced it all together.
Killing him wasn’t enough.
I wanted more. Much more.
“Yes, you do. It’s time we moved forward with our plan.” Christian was the quiet one, always observing. He was dangerous, more so than people gave him credit for.
“Patience, my dear friend. We’re almost there.”
“The party has been announced, our useful minions directed to attend, a few select guests invited to keep it interesting and full of activity.” Weston moved ahead of me, opening the massive door to the dorm.
The party was little more than a lure, allowing our first official meeting with Ava . The people he called our minions were some of the school’s most beautiful female students, all vying to be chosen after graduation. Many hoped they would become a bride. Little did they know at best they’d become our whores.
The realization that there was only one woman for me had occurred the very first time I’d laid eyes on her. Ava likely didn’t remember that she’d bumped into me on her first day at the school, giggling from nervousness and excitement. I’d spent two hours jerking off to the most intense fantasies about what I would do to her. Similar images flashed in front of my mind just walking into her dorm.
The beauty crawling towards me on her hands and knees. Around her neck she’d have a wide diamond-encrusted collar, her red lips open in anticipation of sucking my cock.
I’d also created vivid images in my mind of the beautiful strap marks that would cover her porcelain skin after I’d disciplined her for even the barest hint of an infraction.
But there was nothing like the torrid visions of fucking her from behind as she swung from a steel bar, her wrists wrapped in chains.
I was nothing less than a twisted fuck.
“Excellent,” I managed, although in truth I could care less about the party. If it were up to me, we’d wait for her to return from class and take her. Both Weston and Christian were more interested in tempting then tasting her. We’d stalked Ava for months, placing cameras inside her dorm room. I’d also watched her sleep, study, and shower, basking in the vision of her naked body, waiting for the day when I’d taste every inch of her.
The games were set to begin.
We entered the building, heading towards the stairs to the third floor. While there were students coming and going, no one dared question us or our intentions. They knew what would happen if they did.
The lock was easy to maneuver, and as soon as we stepped inside the suite, I took a deep breath. Her perfume lingered, the scent distinctly different than the girl she shared the three rooms with. I’d memorized every detail of Ava ’s room, touching everything. I pushed open her partially open bedroom door, entering her hallowed space. Everything about the room she’d occupied for almost two years was special. The bold color of violet on the walls, the thick comforter, and two sets of pillows. Even the art she’d selected, which was more erotic in nature than I would have imagined, told a story about her personality.
She was a born submissive.
