Tears stung the back of Genesis's eyes as she struggled to untie the hard knots around Carmella's legs. When they threatened to fall, she wiped them away with her forearm—but that only made them spill faster, streaking silently down her face. Her hands shook as she worked the ties, but it was no use.
The knots wouldn't budge.
Frustration burned in her chest. She clenched her teeth, stood up abruptly, and wiped at her face again. Carmella noticed the tears this time. Her smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of confusion.
Why was she crying?
Genesis turned around, and Kieran instinctively stepped toward her—but she recoiled so sharply, she nearly stumbled. She caught herself just in time, taking several steps back. Kieran froze, startled. He hadn't expected this. None of them had.
She looked away, refusing to meet his gaze, and made her way toward Damon instead—carefully avoiding Kieran like a child steering clear of a monster she once adored but now saw clearly for what he was.
Damon turned his head as she stopped in front of him. She reached for his hand, and he instinctively tried to pull away. That hand of his was still important to him. But she held it, not tightly—he could still yank it free—but something in her touch made him hesitate. Maybe it was the raw vulnerability in her gaze. Maybe it was the unspoken plea when she pointed toward Carmella and the ropes still binding her.
She didn't need words.
It was clear what she was asking.
When he didn't move, she stomped her foot in frustration. More tears rolled down her cheeks, and it hit Damon like a blow to the chest. He hated seeing her cry.
Then Knight's voice cut through the tension.
"Untie her. Now."
Both Genesis and Damon turned to look at him. Genesis immediately let go of Damon's hand, and he moved toward Carmella, crouching beside her to start untying the knots.
Genesis knelt beside him, helping as best she could. With each rope loosened, something in her chest constricted tighter. And when the last rope fell free, Damon stood and took a small step back, stealing a glance at Knight, whose face remained unreadable.
Carmella stood slowly. Her joints cracked from the long hours spent tied up. She hadn't even taken a full step away from the dreaded chair when Genesis rushed forward.
She gently ran her hands over Carmella's arms, her face, her sides—checking her for injuries like a frantic mother hen inspecting her chick. Carmella stood frozen at first, stunned by the sudden tenderness. Her heart raced.
Was this really happening?
A deep blush spread across her cheeks as she realized just how beautiful Genesis was up close—delicate features, tear-streaked but still stunning. She shook her head quickly, trying to will the heat away.
This wasn't some meet-cute moment.
This wasn't even safe.
And yet... she was blushing. Over a woman.
She was straight. Wasn't she?
But honestly, even a straight woman would blush being this close to someone like Genesis.
Genesis gently cupped her cheek. Her touch was featherlight, trembling, but filled with something real. Raw. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak—but no words came. Just a shaky breath.
Her eyes—those wide, expressive eyes—were full of apologies Carmella hadn't asked for.
Carmella swallowed hard, the irritation she had once felt folding into something else entirely. Confusion. Softness. Maybe... something more.
Behind them, Knight stood silently. Jaw tight. Eyes dark.
But it wasn't Genesis's tears that stunned him most.
It was the way she had pulled away from him.
Like he was the one to fear.
His fingers twitched at his side.
"Genesis," he said softly, stepping forward.
She flinched.
He kept walking, slower now, like he was approaching a frightened deer. Genesis raised her hand—not to stop him, but to sign something.
Her fingers trembled as she moved them.
"This… isn't right."
He watched, heart suddenly heavy, as she signed again:
"You saved me from that chair. And now… you tied someone else to it?"
He inhaled slowly, chest rising and falling, but his face betrayed nothing. Not guilt. Not anger. Just something quieter. Something uncertain.
"I wasn't going to hurt her," he said at last. "It was just a warning."
Genesis shook her head, lips pressed tight. Her whole body trembled with the weight of it all.
A silence followed. Thick. Suffocating.
It was Carmella who broke it.
"You've got yourself a good woman, Mr. Blackwood." Her voice was calmer now, more sincere. "Too good for... whatever this was."
She turned to Genesis, her tone softening.
"Thank you... for standing up for me. And... okay, I'll admit it—my question earlier probably came off rude and blunt. I apologize if it hurt you."
Genesis gave a small nod, then offered Carmella a faint, sad smile—her eyes red, but still shining. She reached up to wipe her face again, but more tears spilled over, and she gave up trying to stop them.
Knight was the first to look away.
He turned toward Damon and muttered something under his breath. Damon nodded, then gestured to two other men. After a brief pause, they stepped forward and flanked Carmella. Her eyes widened—so did Genesis's—and she immediately looked at her husband. But he said nothing.
Damon was the one who spoke. "They'll take you home."
Carmella gave a dry, awkward smile. "Um, no need for that. I can take myself home. I've had enough trauma today, courtesy of your charming team."
Damon didn't blink. "It's not up for debate."
Genesis's frown deepened, but Carmella knew there was no point arguing. The escort wasn't for her safety—it was to make sure she kept quiet.
Carmella placed a hand on Genesis's shoulder and gave her a smile that, despite everything, was genuine. "Thanks again. And I guess I did end up apologizing. Anyway, I'll be fine. This is your husband's version of making amends." She glanced quickly at Knight, then looked away just as fast—his eyes made her skin crawl.
She turned and walked toward the door. Genesis watched her go. Knight, however, was watching only Genesis.
Outside, Carmella was led to a sleek black car—unmarked, inconspicuous. As she climbed in, Damon appeared, leaning against the doorframe.
"Listen carefully," he said, voice low. "You got lucky today. Because she is who she is."
Carmella narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
Then, softer, almost like a warning disguised as kindness: "Go home. Forget this ever happened. And pray you never cross him again."
With that, he slammed the door shut.
Carmella sat there, heart pounding. There was definitely more to Kieran Blackwood than met the eye.
She wouldn't breathe a word of this.
Not because she was afraid.
But because she wasn't done yet. She was going to uncover more about him.
And maybe…just maybe, she wanted to see that pretty wife of his.
In the Car…
Genesis slapped Kieran's hand away from her thigh and pressed herself against the car door, but no sooner had she done that than he calmly placed it back, as if nothing had happened.
His other hand tapped nervously on his lap. He wanted to twirl his knife. Or his gun. Or something. He didn't like sitting still, especially not when she was pushing him away.
She turned to him with a glare and shoved his hand off again. This time, he met her eyes.
"Why, Princess?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, lips pouted. She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her body language screamed it: I'm mad at you.
He nodded, like that was some kind of progress. At least she was responding. It made him slightly less tense. But he still didn't understand what he had done wrong.
He only wanted to please her.
He slid his hand back onto her thigh, this time slipping higher, into the soft warmth of her inner thigh.
"We can still be mad at each other," he murmured, voice thick, "and still touch."
She shot him a look like he'd completely lost his mind. Her skin shivered beneath his dragging nails.
Then he leaned in—and without thinking, pulled his knife. She didn't even notice at first, not until he began to twirl it between his fingers, right as he licked the shell of her ear.
"I live to please you, Princess," he whispered. "But I only did that because I can't stand seeing you hurt."
His grip on her tightened, making her thighs instinctively close around his hand, trapping it. She wanted to shove him off, remind him what he did was wrong—but her brain was going soft, melting under the intensity of his touch.
Then, with terrifying gentleness, he took the dagger's handle and rubbed it along her skin. Her eyes widened—but strangely, there was no fear.
"I hate it when you cry," he said. "It makes my chest feel… off. Like something's crawling under my ribs. You shouldn't cry unless I make you cry."
The tip of the knife touched her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Her hands were splayed against the door, nails digging into the velvet seat behind her.
He dropped to his knees in the backseat—one hand between her thighs, the other cradling her jaw like porcelain in one palm and prey in the other. His breath hitched.
"I'd carve up the whole damn world for you, Genesis," he whispered against her throat, pressing the flat of the blade to her collarbone. "Just point. You wouldn't even need to speak."
He kissed her neck—soft at first. Then a bite, sharp enough to leave a mark.
"I beg for your attention," he murmured, dragging his lips up her jaw. "I lose sleep when you look away. When you flinch from me like I'm the monster they say I am… baby, I am. But I'm your monster."
The knife clattered beside her on the seat. His hands gripped her waist, hard. He buried his face in her shoulder and exhaled like he was trying not to scream.
"Look at me."
His voice cracked.
And Genesis, heart racing, breath uneven, finally looked down at him.
He was on his knees.
Begging—without saying the word.
"Touch me," he said hoarsely. "Please. I don't care if you're mad. I don't care if you hate me. Just… touch me. Remind me I still belong to you."
And that's when she realized the truth.
He wasn't trying to scare her.
Not really.
He was trying not to fall apart.
And the worst part?
Her fingers twitched.
Butterflies.
Not the good kind.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that makes it hard to breathe.
The kind that makes you forget how dark it all really is.