Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance
Isle of Sin: Chapter 3

Nate’s snores filled the room, the repetitive sound making my heart race.

It’s time.

He’d allowed me to sleep beside him in the bed, his big arm clamped around me as though he owned me. His words from before he fell asleep still rattled through my mind.

“We only have thirty more days together. I want to make them count.”

He’d almost sounded sad. Like he was disappointed that he’d be losing the pet he’d just spent the last six years training.

Like we would be “breaking up.”

Which would imply I’d been with him willingly from the beginning.

A preposterous notion.

I was just a project. A means to an end. A female for him to break for the benefit of another man—Taylor Huntington. My betrothed.

Not if I can help it, I thought, my pulse thrumming with anticipation.

Nate liked his knives. And he’d left several out in the room. All of them sharp and deadly. Just like the butcher’s knife I’d hidden in the nightstand.

I’d positioned weapons all over, uncertain of which one would do the trick.

But he’d made this so easy by falling asleep next to me.

All I had to do was dislodge his arm and grab a knife.

I squirmed a little, inching out from beneath his grasp and freezing every time his breathing changed.

Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.

Almost there.

Just a little more…

If he wakes, I’ll tell him I need to pee.

So close.

Just a few more in—

His snoring stopped.

I paused, holding my breath. I just have to go to the bathroom, I reminded myself. If he wakes up, that’s my excuse. He shouldn’t care, right?

My heart thudded loudly in my ears, drowning out all the sound.

Until he released another soft little snore. It wasn’t as loud as the others, more of a reverberation that suggested he was falling back to sleep.

I waited for several beats, counting to two hundred before I started to move again.

The drumming in my ears made me dizzy, my exhales sounding too loud in the room. Focus. Breathe. Calm down.

But I couldn’t seem to stop shaking, not even when I finally slipped free of his grasp. If anything, I trembled more.

Go to the bathroom, I told myself. Just in case he wakes up.

That way I would have an excuse for moving around.

Swallowing, I forced myself to move. My hands were clammy, my chest aching from my erratic breaths.

I closed the door of the bathroom and pretended to use the toilet. Then I splashed water over my face instead of washing my hands.

It helped a little, the cooling liquid grounding me in the present.

I took my time drying myself off, needing the moment to calm down.

You can do this, Adalyn, I said, meeting my gaze in the mirror. You know where the knives are. Pick one and slit his throat.

I counted several more beats, willing my heart to stop racing.

And slipped back into the room.

Nate hadn’t moved, his snores still soft and even.

I crept across the carpet toward the nightstand, my focus on him, waiting for him to react. It would be just like him to set all this up as some sort of test.

Because everything with Nate was a test.

My throat worked, my mouth feeling dry, as I reached the drawer.

I gently pulled it out, careful not to make a sound, and slid my hand inside.

Only, I felt nothing.

No cold steel.

No handle.

Nothing at all.

My brow furrowed. Did I accidentally push it to the back when closing it earlier? I glanced down, the darkness of the room making it difficult to see.

Pulling the drawer out a little more, I bent to search for the knife.

It’s not there.

How—

“Looking for something, Adalyn?” Nate’s deep tone sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t laced with sleep at all. But very awake.

I gradually returned my gaze to where he lounged in the bed, his long body reminding me of a jungle cat. All lazy arrogance.

And in his hand was a blade.

“Kneel.” He uttered the word with all the force of his dominance, making my legs quake with the need to obey.

I almost did.

I almost fell to the ground in submission to beg for my life.

But I knew how much he would make this hurt.

Sadistic energy poured off him in waves, that knife appearing all the more dangerous in his hand.

He might not kill me. But he would injure me severely. Then invite his friends this week to prolong my agony, to torture my body and spirit until I finally broke.

I was already so close to that edge.

I refused to cross it. Refused to let him degrade me for another second.

I didn’t want this life or the future his training had prepared me for.

I wanted freedom. Even if it was temporary. Even if it would worsen my fate that much more.

I craved his death. His blood. His screams.

That knife wasn’t the only one in the room. He had a bag of toys only a few feet away.

I just had to lunge for it.

“What was one of our first rules together?” he asked silkily, sitting up in the bed. “Someone is always watching.”

I took a step back as he continued to shift, his movements leisurely yet undeniably purposeful as he gestured around the room.

“There are cameras everywhere.”

I swallowed. Of course there are. Why wouldn’t there be?

This island was just a glorified hotel version of Ecstasy, something I should have known upon arrival. But I’d been so caught up in my hope and desire to kill Nate that I hadn’t considered there being cameras in our room.

I’d thought he believed me to be broken, that he’d finally let his guard down.

I should have known better.

I should have been more discreet.

I should have thought this through.

But I’d been desperate to flee.

Desperate to kill.

“I know where you put every knife, Adalyn.” One leg slid off the bed. “I watched your every move. Just as I always watch your every move.”

Another chill kissed my lower neck, spreading down my back. My knees locked as I tried to move away from him, making me feel clumsy and wrong on my feet.

“I’m so glad you did this, baby,” he murmured, standing now. “I’ve missed our early days. And you just gave me permission to return to those darker moments to break you all over again.”

He smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkness in a way that resembled a true nightmare come to life.

“So thank you, Adalyn. This is the best gift you could have given me after our time together.”

Oh God. If I hadn’t known before that he planned to truly harm me, I did now.

I either fought for my life or finally succumbed to the pressure to indefinitely hide within my mind.

The latter wasn’t acceptable.

Making this an obvious choice.

I fight.

But I had to be smart about it. Smarter than I was before.

“I-I’m sorry, Master,” I whispered, allowing him to hear my fear. It would lull him into a state of triumph, help inflate that confidence just a little more.

“You’re not,” he countered. “But you will be soon.”

I knelt beside his toy bag, attempting to show my subservience. However, my gaze didn’t really go to the ground. It went to the unzipped leather bag beside me.

He might have seen me stash knives around the room, but I’d never once touched his toys.

Because I was already intimately familiar with them.

I knew what each tool did. How sharp they were. How they felt against my skin.

There were several I could use against Nate. I just needed him to be vulnerable first.

I peered down into the unzipped bag, searching for a glint of silver. But the dark room cast everything in shadows. I’d be going in blind, which wasn’t going to work.

This has to be executed perfectly.

I’d already messed up once. I couldn’t afford to do it again. He was amused right now. If I pushed him too far, he’d become enraged.

An enraged version of Nate was dangerous. Lethal, even.

He owned my life.

I might be a promised bride to an Elite member, but if I proved to be too difficult for the role, the society in charge would grant Nate full immunity for his actions. They would consider it my fault that I couldn’t conform, not Nate’s.

A fucked-up reality.

One I intended to end.

I just needed to play this right.

“Hmm,” he hummed, stepping behind me to drag the sharp edge down my spine. Just hard enough for me to feel the threat without drawing blood.

I swallowed, my gaze begging for a light to be able to see the contents of his bag. They were all in a meticulous order. I should be able to do this blind.

But the stinging sensation against my skin distracted me, my heart racing for an entirely new reason now.

Especially as he met the crevice of my ass and drew downward.

He paused at the puckered hole.

Pressing in slightly, making me bite my lip to hold back my cry of pain as he inserted it enough to make me bleed.

Fuck…

He twisted it a little, scattering goose bumps down my arms. He… he won’t… right? He won’t actually—

The blade disappeared, drawing an unbidden sigh of relief from my lips. Only to cut off on a scream as he rammed the hilt inside me, tearing me open with the blunt end of the knife.

I couldn’t hold back my violent shudder, the handle unexpected and dry.

“Do not fucking move,” he snapped as I started to fall forward.

My abdomen clenched automatically, pulling myself upright as tears flooded my vision.

He’s going to fuck me with that in my ass.

It’ll drive in with each thrust.

Cutting me as the sharp edges enter from the wrong direction.

Oh God…

I shivered violently, earning me a bite on the shoulder as he moved around in front of me, his hard dick at eye level.

He wouldn’t ask me to suck.

Not yet.

He’d tie me up first. Probably use a ring on my mouth as well, just to keep me from being able to bite.

I had to act before that happened.

I had to do something before he made it impossible for me to move.

He knelt to begin rifling through his bag, finally giving me the view I needed. He would assume I’d knelt here on purpose, familiar with his desire to have his tools nearby while he worked.

Which made it perfect.

As did having his balls right in front of me, his naked body making him just as vulnerable as me.

He went for the rope first, confirming what I already knew about his intentions. Out of time, I thought, panicked. It’s now or—

The flash of metal caught my gaze as he finished pulling out the rope, his blades carefully packed against the side of his bag, only inches from my knee.

I didn’t count.

I didn’t second-guess it.

I reached for the knife and drove it upward, right between his groin.

He dropped the rope, the bindings temporarily blinding my vision as he jumped backward with a roar.

I wasn’t even sure if I did enough damage. I couldn’t see, the fury around me a cloud of movement that had me trying desperately to roll away from him.

Which lodged the blade higher in my—

“You fucking bitch!” he shouted.

I ignored him, my hands reaching around me to try to dislodge the weapon. He’d shoved it in so far… I… I couldn’t grab the hilt… I had to… fuck.

He fell to his knees, his hands on his groin, giving me the moment I needed to make a flash decision about the knife.

I wrapped my fingers around the metal and yanked, a shriek parting my lips at the pain. But it was better than leaving it there. And it gave me a tool to use.

He’d yanked his own blade out, the dagger much smaller than the one I now held. Because it’d been the butcher knife handle he’d shoved up my ass.

His knife was the kind meant for sex. Small. Almost scalpel-like.

Mine was meant to kill. To butcher. To maim.

I started toward him, needing to use his distraction to my advantage. My insides rioted, but my determination outweighed the pain.

I just needed to stab him.

Slit his throat.

Do something.

His gaze was down, his focus on himself, not seeing me at all.

Or that was what I thought until his fist met my jaw, followed by a slur of fury as he pinned me to the floor beneath him. It happened too fast for me to comprehend, my knife flying out of my hand as his palm wrapped around my throat to lift my head up enough just to slam it back down against the marble floor.

Light danced around my vision before bleeding into waves of black.

Another hit to my head made stars appear.

Then my lungs started to beg for air, his hand clamped so tightly around me that I couldn’t inhale. I grabbed his wrist, clawing at his hold while he spat hateful things at me above.

I couldn’t see. I couldn’t really think. I was blind, suffocating, and dizzy as hell.

I bucked upward, squirming, trying to dislodge him, causing him to hiss in pain as I pressed into his wounded groin. Yes. I did it again, his grip loosening enough for me to gasp in some air.

He slapped me, causing me to release his wrist to try to protect my face as I tilted my head toward the ground. A flash of silver glinted only a foot from me.

I wasn’t sure how it had gotten there. Maybe I’d dropped my knife closer than I’d thought. Maybe it was a new one. But I reached for it without a second thought and brought it up to his torso on a surge of adrenaline. I wasn’t sure where it’d come from. My will to survive? My need for revenge? My desire to be in charge for once in my life?

It didn’t matter.

Because I connected with his stomach, lodging the blade deep enough to give him pause.

Then I yanked it out and sent it into his stomach again.

And again.

Until I went for his throat.

All while he straddled me.

All while his palm was against my own neck.

He wasn’t squeezing now. He seemed to be in shock.

Or maybe I was the one in shock.

I couldn’t stop stabbing him.

Each strike seemed to jolt along his body.

Until finally he fell off me.

And I still kept plunging the blade into him.

Someone was screaming.

Probably him.

Or a spectator.

I didn’t care. I kept going.

And going.

And going.

Everything was painted in bright lights, blackness, and blood. I couldn’t see straight. I could barely move. I just kept driving that knife in and out of his chest. His throat. His abdomen. While screams echoed. Murderous rage. Fury.

It went on for hours.

Or perhaps minutes.

I wasn’t sure.

But I eventually collapsed on top of him, his blood warm and sticky and wet.

The world spun.

The universe shifting around me to depict a new reality.

Death.

My head pounded, my hands ached, and my body felt tired.

You need to run, some rational part of me whispered. Get up and run.

I rolled to my back instead, sucking in gulps of air as I stared at the ceiling.

Something slippery was beneath me. Something that reminded me of water, only thicker.

I almost looked.

But then the moon caught my gaze and the gentle ocean beneath it, rolling up onto the beach.

The image called to me, luring me toward the patio doors. Wash it off, that rational part instructed. Jump in and wash it all off.

It had to be close to midnight. Maybe after. I wasn’t sure.

Yet as I gazed down at the blood on my hands, I realized that I should wash it all off. Wash him off. The sins of the past. My torment. My proverbial initiation into this fucked-up society.

More men would be here soon.

I needed to run.

To hide.

But where? On this island?

I shook my head slowly back and forth. I hadn’t thought this all the way through, my desire to kill Nate outweighing every other rational consideration.

Does it matter? I thought, a huff of a laugh catching in my throat. I’m going to die anyway.

At least this was my choice.

And I took the monster down with me.

My hand slipped over the handle of the door, making it harder to open than I expected. But I finally made it slide.

The warm sea air felt damp against my skin.

Ocean, I thought, gazing out at the stairs only a few feet away. Go into the ocean.

Yes.

I followed the steps down.

Down.

Down.

Into the welcoming depths below.

So calm. So soothing. Such a beautiful place to die.

I pushed away from the stairs to float on my back, my gaze on the moon above.

I’ll watch it as I drift.

Watch it as I replace peace.

Watch it as I finally… sleep.