And then, it happened.
Brandon moved.
One second he was standing a few steps away, and the next, he was a blur—a shadow streaking through the dim light.
Billy barely saw the movement before a crushing force slammed into his chest.
The air ripped from his lungs as his body flew sideways and crashed to the floor with a sickening thud.
Pain exploded through his ribs, his vision spinning like a shattered kaleidoscope.
He tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out immediately. His strength was gone.
The chair leg rolled from his hand, clattering uselessly across the floor.
Above him, Brandon crouched slowly, his massive frame blotting out the weak ceiling light.
His grin was still there—wide, hungry, merciless.
"You see?" Brandon whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You were never leaving this house alive."
Billy's breath hitched, his entire body trembling as icy dread sank into his bones.
He opened his mouth to scream—but the sound never made it out.
Moments later, Billy's voice joined the chorus of agony already echoing through the wooden walls—a twisted symphony that would haunt the forest long after the house fell silent.
***
"You seem amused—happy, even. Care to share the joke with your clueless wife, Ross?" asked a stunning blonde, her voice soft yet teasing as she leaned closer to him.
Jasmine's bright eyes shimmered faintly under the dim glow of the theater lights, her lips curling in a playful smile.
Today had been nothing short of a pleasant surprise.
Ross had shown up at her workplace without warning, waiting by the entrance with that confident, magnetic presence that always made heads turn.
For someone like him—someone with countless wives and admirers constantly competing for his attention—such gestures weren't just rare; they were treasures.
And Jasmine knew it.
He didn't stop there.
After picking her up, he whisked her away to a cozy little restaurant where they shared an unhurried dinner, laughter flowing as easily as the wine.
For those few hours, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
And now here they were, sitting side by side in a nearly empty theater, watching a movie so bad it was almost comical.
But that, she realized, was part of his plan too.
A quiet place, no crowds, no interruptions—just them.
"It's nothing, Jasmine," Ross replied, his tone light yet secretive.
A faint smirk played on his lips as he kept his gaze fixed on the screen.
"Just remembered something funny, that's all."
Jasmine tilted her head, studying him with curiosity.
That smile of his—it wasn't just about the movie or some fleeting thought.
It was the kind of smile that hinted at a secret, the kind he never shared so easily.
The theater around them was nearly deserted, with only a few scattered viewers seated far away.
The film droned on, its plot so lifeless that Jasmine wondered why Ross had even chosen it.
Then it struck her—he hadn't chosen the movie for its story.
He'd chosen it for the silence, the privacy, the way the empty seats created a cocoon around them.
She shifted slightly in her chair, her fingers brushing against his hand on the armrest.
"You're not fooling me, Ross. You planned all this, didn't you?" she whispered with a smile that carried equal parts accusation and admiration.
Ross finally turned to her then, his eyes glinting in the faint light of the screen.
"Maybe," he said smoothly, his voice low and calm.
"But if I did, you're not complaining... are you?"
Her breath caught for just a moment, and then she smiled back, heart racing. He was right.
She wasn't complaining at all.
Jasmine smiled softly, her heart fluttering as Ross's gaze burned into hers.
There was a raw intensity in his eyes tonight, something that made her pulse quicken and her breath grow shallow.
Before she could even speak, Ross moved.
He didn't waste a second. His arm swept around her, pulling her closer with commanding strength.
His fingers tangled in her golden hair, gripping just enough to make her gasp, and then his lips crashed onto hers.
The kiss was fierce, consuming—like a storm that had been waiting to break.
"Mmm..." Jasmine moaned into his mouth, her lips parting instinctively to let him in.
His tongue invaded, stroking hers with deliberate, sinful precision.
Every flick, every movement sent jolts of heat straight down her spine.
She could taste him—dark, intoxicating, addictive—and it made her crave more.
Ross tilted his head, deepening the kiss, devouring her like a man starved.
His grip on her hair tightened, angling her face just the way he wanted, leaving her no room to escape—not that she wanted to.
Her body melted against him, her heart pounding so hard she thought the empty theater could hear it.
Tonight felt different. Special.
This wasn't just another fleeting night in Ross's chaotic world of love and lust.
For Jasmine, this was a memory she wanted to burn into her soul forever.
She knew what was coming—that Ross would take her, ruin her all over again, make her scream his name until her throat went raw.
And she welcomed it.
But right now, before everything spiraled into pure madness, she wanted to hold onto this kiss, this connection, this intoxicating moment that belonged only to them.
Her hands, however, betrayed her intentions.
They moved on their own, guided by the burning need between her thighs.
Slowly, hesitantly at first, her fingers slid down his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt.
Lower and lower they went, until they brushed over his lap, grazing the thick outline hidden beneath the fabric.
The heat radiating from him made her shiver in anticipation.
Her breath caught as she cupped him through his pants. God, he was huge.
Even soft, the size was intimidating, a beast waiting to be unleashed.
She squeezed gently, feeling the weight, the promise of what was to come.
Then, with deliberate care, she began to massage him, her fingers stroking, teasing, coaxing the sleeping giant to life.