The streets outside were dark, lit only by dim, flickering streetlights as Rody walked with a purpose toward Vincent’s apartment. His breath fogged in the cold air, his thoughts a relentless hum of frustration and longing. He couldn’t stop thinking about Vincent. Ever since those days when Vincent used to babysit him, Rody had been drawn to him-something about the older boy had captured his attention in a way that no one else ever could.
Back then, Vincent had seemed so mature, so composed, saving up money to go to culinary school. Rody was only 14 at the time, too young to understand the feelings churning inside him. But now, at 17, everything had become clear. He was obsessed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Vincent out of his head.
And it wasn’t just Vincent anymore-it was Richard. That smug, arrogant *bastard* who hung around Vincent like he owned him. Rody hated him. Every time he saw Richard with Vincent, it felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He knew what Richard was trying to do. He could *see* it, the way Richard looked at Vincent, touched him, acted like he was something more than just a friend. But Vincent was Rody’s. He had to be.
Rody’s hand tightened into a fist as he reached Vincent’s building. He hadn’t told Vincent he was coming over-he didn’t need to. He’d learned Vincent’s routine, knew when he’d be home, knew when Richard would likely be there too. Rody had been careful, watching, waiting. Tonight was the night.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, his pulse quickening. His mind raced with images of Vincent, of how things used to be, of how much he missed being the one Vincent cared about, the one Vincent smiled at. Back then, Vincent had given him his full attention. Now? It felt like Vincent was slipping away, and Rody couldn’t bear it.
When he reached the door, he didn’t knock. Instead, he stood there for a moment, just listening. He could hear muffled voices inside-Vincent’s, calm and quiet, and Richard’s, loud and obnoxious. Rody’s jaw clenched. He didn’t even think before he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.
Richard was sitting on the couch, leaning too close to Vincent, like he had the right to be there. Vincent looked up, surprised, his dark eyes widening when he saw Rody standing in the doorway.
“Rody?” Vincent’s voice held a hint of concern. “What are you doing here?”
Rody stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. His gaze was fixed on Vincent, the rest of the room fading into the background. “I wanted to see you,” he said quietly, his voice low, controlled. “You didn’t answer my texts.”
Richard snorted, leaning back on the couch. “You again? Don’t you have anything better to do, kid?”
“Shut up,” Rody muttered, his eyes still locked on Vincent. He didn’t care about Richard. He didn’t care about anything but getting Vincent alone.
Vincent frowned, standing up slowly. “Rody, we talked about this. I’ve been busy.”
“With *him*,” Rody spat, finally tearing his gaze away from Vincent to glare at Richard. The jealousy that had been building inside him for weeks, months even, was threatening to boil over. He could feel it clawing at him, an irrational, obsessive anger that he couldn’t control.
Richard rolled his eyes. “Jealous much?”
Rody’s fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I said, shut up.”
Vincent stepped between them, placing a hand on Rody’s chest to stop him from getting closer. “Hey, hey, calm down,” he said softly, but Rody could hear the edge in his voice. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting… off.”
Rody’s eyes flicked up to Vincent’s face, and for a moment, he faltered. Vincent was so close, close enough that Rody could feel the warmth of his skin, smell that familiar scent of lemon and faint smoke. It made Rody’s heart pound, his head spin with a mix of desire and frustration.
“I’m not acting off,” Rody murmured, his gaze dropping to Vincent’s hand on his chest. He wondered if Vincent could feel how fast his heart was beating. “I just… I need you, Vincent. I need you to stop pushing me away.”
Vincent’s brows furrowed, concern deepening in his eyes. “Rody, I’m not pushing you away. I just-“
“You are!” Rody’s voice rose, his desperation finally breaking through the carefully constructed calm. “Ever since you started hanging out with *him*,” he gestured sharply toward Richard, “you’ve been ignoring me. You don’t care about me anymore.”
Vincent blinked, taken aback by the intensity in Rody’s voice. “That’s not true. I do care about you.”
Rody laughed, but it was bitter, hollow. “Yeah? Then why do I feel like I don’t exist to you anymore unless I’m throwing myself at you?”
Vincent’s hand dropped from Rody’s chest, and for the first time, Rody saw something crack in his composed demeanor. “Rody… you’re still important to me, but you’re suffocating me. This-this isn’t healthy.”
“Suffocating you?” Rody echoed, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief. “I’m suffocating you, but you let *him* do whatever he wants?” His gaze shot toward Richard, who was watching the whole exchange with a smug, knowing smile.
Richard leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Face it, kid. Vincent doesn’t belong to you.”
That was it. Rody snapped.
Before anyone could react, Rody lunged at Richard, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him up from the couch. “He’s not yours!” Rody shouted, shoving Richard backward until his back slammed against the wall.
“Rody, stop!” Vincent’s voice was sharp now, but Rody barely heard him. His vision was red, his mind consumed by one single, obsessive thought-Richard needed to go. He needed to get out of Vincent’s life.
Richard grunted, trying to push Rody off, but Rody was stronger, his grip unrelenting. “You don’t deserve him,” Rody hissed, his voice shaking with anger. “You’re just using him, like everyone else. But I-*I* care about him. I’ve always cared.”
Vincent grabbed Rody’s arm, pulling him back with more force than usual. “Rody, that’s enough! Let him go.”
Rody stumbled back, his breathing heavy, his heart racing. For a moment, the room spun, and he realized with a jolt what he had just done. He looked at Vincent, who was staring at him with a mix of anger and something else-fear? No it was something dark.
Rody’s chest tightened. “I didn’t mean to… I just-“
“Go home,” Vincent said quietly, his voice cold in a way that cut through Rody like a knife. “We’ll talk later. Not like this.”
“But-“
“*Go*,” Vincent repeated, his gaze hard, unyielding.
Rody swallowed the lump in his throat, his hands trembling as he stepped back toward the door. The weight of Vincent’s rejection crashed down on him, suffocating, unbearable. He glanced at Richard, who was rubbing his neck, glaring at Rody like he’d just won some invisible battle.
Without another word, Rody turned and left, the door slamming behind him.
But even as he walked away, his mind was already spinning, already plotting. He wouldn’t let this go. Vincent was his, and nothing-not Richard, not anyone-was going to change that.
Rody barely remembered the walk home. The streets blurred around him, and the cold that nipped at his skin went unnoticed. All he could see was Vincent-his dark eyes, his soft voice telling him to *go home*, the way he had *protected* Richard. It played in his head on a loop, a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.
Vincent didn’t understand. He didn’t *see* it. Richard was dangerous-manipulative. He wanted to take Vincent away, use him, and discard him. Rody couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
When Rody reached his parent’s apartment, he slammed the door behind him, his hands shaking as he paced the room. His mind raced, thoughts crashing into each other in a frenzied storm. He couldn’t let Vincent push him away. Not now. Not after all these years. He had waited, been patient. He had been *good*.
But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
Rody stopped in front of his desk, staring blankly at the scattered papers and notebooks. Old memories clawed their way to the surface-memories of Vincent, back when things were simpler. When Vincent would come over, cook dinner for him, and tell him stories about his dream of becoming a chef. Rody had hung onto every word, starved for the attention Vincent gave him. It was the first time in his life someone had cared like that.
And now, Vincent was slipping through his fingers.
Rody grabbed one of the notebooks and opened it. The pages were filled with messy handwriting, but not his own. Vincent had given him these notes-recipes, cooking tips, and random thoughts he’d jotted down during their time together. Rody’s fingers traced the ink, the only tangible connection he had left to Vincent when he wasn’t around.
He needed to see him again. Tonight.
Rody didn’t care if it was too soon after the fight. He couldn’t leave things like that. If Vincent could just *understand* how much Rody needed him-how much he *loved* him-everything would be okay. He just needed to make Vincent see.
Without thinking, Rody grabbed his jacket and rushed back out the door.
—
It was late by the time Rody reached Vincent’s building again. The lights in the apartment were still on, and his heart pounded in his chest. He stood outside for a moment, staring up at the windows, trying to steady his breath. He didn’t know what he’d say, didn’t have a plan. All he knew was that he had to get rid of Richard. If he could just get Richard out of the way, everything would go back to normal.
Vincent would go back to being his.
The door to the building was unlocked, and Rody crept inside. The familiar stairs stretched ahead of him, and as he ascended, his mind twisted with dark thoughts. He wondered what Vincent was doing right now. Was Richard still there? Were they laughing, talking, being close in a way that made Rody sick to his stomach?
The door to Vincent’s apartment loomed in front of him again, but this time, Rody didn’t hesitate. He knocked once, twice, his pulse racing.
A few moments passed before the door opened. Vincent stood there, looking tired, his eyes shadowed with something Rody couldn’t quite place.
“Rody,” Vincent said, surprised but guarded. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t leave things like that,” Rody said quickly, stepping forward before Vincent could stop him. “I needed to talk to you. I needed you to understand.”
Vincent frowned, blocking Rody’s way into the apartment. “Now’s not a good time. I told you we’d talk later.”
“Why?” Rody asked, his voice tight with frustration. “Because of *him*?” His gaze darted over Vincent’s shoulder, but he couldn’t see Richard. Still, just the thought of him being there made Rody’s skin crawl.
Vincent sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Richard’s gone, Rody. He left after you… after what happened.”
A brief surge of relief washed over Rody, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing anxiety. “Good. He’s no good for you, Vincent. Can’t you see that? He doesn’t care about you like I do.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. “What are you talking about? Richard’s my friend. He’s been there for me when no one else was.”
“No,” Rody snapped, his voice rising. “*I* was there for you. Ever since you babysat me, I’ve been here. *I’m* the one who cares about you, Vincent, not him. He’s just trying to use you.”
“Rody, stop,” Vincent said, his voice growing firm. “You’re acting crazy.”
Rody flinched at the word, his heart twisting painfully. “I’m not crazy,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I just-Vincent, you mean everything to me. I can’t-” His voice cracked, the desperation spilling out, uncontained. “I can’t lose you.”
Vincent’s expression softened for a moment, but there was still something distant in his eyes. “Rody……I care about you, but not like this. Not in the way you want.”
The words hit Rody like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like the world was collapsing around him, and all he could hear was the echo of Vincent’s rejection.
“No,” Rody muttered, shaking his head. “No, you’re wrong. You do care about me like that. You just don’t realize it yet.”
Vincent’s eyes widened, a flicker of something dark crossing his face. “Rody, listen to yourself. This isn’t normal.”
“Don’t say that!” Rody’s voice was frantic now, his hands trembling as he reached out, grabbing Vincent’s wrist. “I know you feel it too. You have to.”
Vincent pulled his hand back, taking a step away from Rody. “You need help, Rody. This obsession you have… it’s not healthy.”
“Stop calling it that!” Rody shouted, his emotions boiling over. “It’s not an obsession. I love you, Vincent! I’ve always loved you!”
Vincent took another step back, his face pale. “Rody, I think you should leave.”
Rody’s chest heaved, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. He looked at Vincent, really looked at him, and something snapped inside him. He couldn’t leave. He *wouldn’t* leave. Not until Vincent understood. Not until he could make Vincent his.
Rody lunged forward, grabbing Vincent by the shoulders and pushing him against the wall. Vincent let out a startled gasp, but Rody didn’t care. His hands tightened around Vincent’s arms, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“I won’t let anyone else have you,” Rody said, his eyes wild, desperate. “Not Richard. Not anyone. You’re mine, Vincent. You always have been.”
Vincent’s eyes widened in fear, and he struggled against Rody’s grip, but Rody held him in place, his fingers digging into Vincent’s skin.
“Rody, let go,” Vincent said, his voice shaking. “You’re scaring me.” *He didn’t sound scared*
Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, his vision tunneling as his grip tightened. “You don’t understand. You’ll never understand unless I show you.”
Vincent’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Rody thought he might scream. But then, Vincent went still, his eyes locking onto Rody’s. There was something in Vincent’s gaze that Rody didn’t recognize-something dark, something broken.
And then, Vincent whispered, “Fine. Show me.”
Rody’s grip loosened slightly, uncertainty creeping into his mind. “What?”
Vincent’s voice was soft, almost hypnotic. “Show me, Rody. Show me how much you love me.”
For a moment, Rody hesitated. But then, he nodded, his breath shallow, his mind clouded with obsession.
He’d make Vincent see. He’d make Vincent his. No matter what it took.
Rody’s mind reeled at Vincent’s words. They felt like permission, like an open door into something he had always wanted, something that had simmered beneath his skin for years. His grip on Vincent softened, his fingers trembling, but the desire-no, the *need*-to prove himself to Vincent surged stronger.
This was it. His chance to show Vincent that no one could care for him like Rody did. Not Richard. Not anyone.
“You… you mean it?” Rody’s voice wavered, eyes wide with a manic kind of hope. Vincent’s expression remained unreadable, the tension between them thick enough to choke on.
Vincent didn’t answer immediately, his lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at Rody’s hands still on him, then back at Rody’s face. “You say you love me, Rody. You’ve always said that.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it-something dark, calculated.
Rody nodded vigorously. “I do. I *always* have. You’re everything to me, Vincent. I’ve-” His voice cracked, his emotions overwhelming him. “I’ve watched you from the beginning. I’ve *waited* for this.”
Vincent’s eyes flickered, but his gaze remained cold. “Then show me.”
Rody’s breath caught in his throat, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure what Vincent was asking-what exactly he wanted. But it didn’t matter. If Vincent wanted proof, if he needed Rody to show how much he loved him, Rody would give it. Whatever it took.
He leaned in closer, his breath shaky as he whispered, “I’d do anything for you, Vincent. Anything.” His hands slid down Vincent’s arms, his fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt, desperate for some kind of connection.
Vincent didn’t move, didn’t push him away, but his gaze remained locked on Rody with an intensity that made Rody’s skin prickle. “Even if it hurts?” Vincent asked softly, his voice like a cold blade.
Rody stilled, his heart pounding in his chest. “If it’s for you… it doesn’t matter.”
The words left his mouth before he could think about them, but as soon as they did, they felt true. He would hurt for Vincent. He would break for him if it meant keeping him away from people like Richard. He had already given up everything-his childhood, his normal life-just to stay close to him. If Vincent needed more, Rody would gladly give it.
Vincent’s expression didn’t change, but his hand moved, gently touching the side of Rody’s face. Rody flinched at the coldness of his touch but leaned into it, desperate for any hint of affection. “Then prove it,” Vincent said, his voice calm, almost hypnotic. “Show me you’d do anything.”
Rody blinked, the weight of Vincent’s words sinking in. His mind raced with possibilities, a thousand different ways to prove his devotion, but none of them felt enough. Not for Vincent. Not for what he deserved.
“I will,” Rody whispered, his voice trembling with conviction. “Just tell me how.”
Vincent’s fingers trailed down Rody’s jaw, his touch almost gentle now, but there was something predatory in his gaze. “Get rid of him.”
Rody’s heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat as he processed what Vincent had just said. “R-Richard?” he stammered.
Vincent’s eyes darkened. “He’s in the way, isn’t he? If you want me to be yours, Rody, you need to show me. Make it so he’s not a problem anymore.”
Rody’s stomach churned at the suggestion, but the fear of losing Vincent overpowered any hesitation. Richard was the obstacle, the thing keeping Vincent from seeing Rody the way he wanted to be seen. If Richard wasn’t in the picture, then maybe-just maybe-Vincent would finally be his.
“I… I’ll do it,” Rody whispered, his voice shaking but resolute. “I’ll get rid of him.”
Vincent’s hand dropped from Rody’s face, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll talk.”
Without another word, Vincent stepped away, leaving Rody standing there, his heart racing, his mind spinning with the gravity of what he had just agreed to.
Get rid of Richard.
It echoed in Rody’s head, over and over, as if the words had taken root and were growing, consuming everything else. He had to do this. It was the only way. Vincent would finally be his if he could just eliminate the one thing standing in his way.
As Rody stumbled out of Vincent’s apartment and into the cold night, his hands shook uncontrollably. His breaths came in shallow gasps as the reality of what he had just promised began to sink in.
But beneath the fear, beneath the anxiety, there was something else-something dark, something that felt disturbingly like excitement.
Vincent wanted him to prove it.
And Rody would. No matter what it took.
The night air felt oppressive against Rody’s skin, cold and suffocating all at once. His mind was a whirlwind, every thought circling back to Vincent, to those words: *Get rid of him.*
Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, louder than the street noises, louder than his own footsteps. He barely registered where he was walking, or even that he had left Vincent’s apartment. All that mattered now was proving himself. Proving that he was the only one who deserved Vincent.
Richard had always been a problem. Smug, entitled, acting like he had some claim over Vincent, always hovering around him, stealing his attention. Rody had seen the way Richard looked at him-the way he touched Vincent’s arm when he laughed, the way he’d always find some excuse to pull him aside. It made Rody’s blood boil.
But no more. Rody clenched his fists as he walked faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He’d get rid of Richard. He’d erase him from Vincent’s life, just like Vincent wanted. Then Vincent would see. He would understand that no one could love him like Rody did. No one could ever care for him the way Rody did.
The thought of Vincent, alone and vulnerable, made something primal stir inside Rody. He could almost imagine it-the two of them together, with no one standing between them, no one distracting Vincent. Vincent would finally belong to him, completely, wholly.
As Rody’s mind raced, a twisted plan began to take form. He’d seen Richard hang out at that little café on 3rd street. It was small, tucked away from the busier parts of the city, the perfect place for someone like Richard to lurk in his self-importance. Rody had passed by the place countless times, trying to catch glimpses of Vincent through the windows.
Rody’s hands itched, and his pulse quickened as he realized he knew what to do. It would be easy-so easy. Richard would never see it coming. He’d never know what hit him.
Rody was barely aware of his surroundings as he approached the café. His heart thudded louder in his ears as the faint glow of the streetlights illuminated the shop’s windows. It was closed for the night, the chairs stacked on tables, but that didn’t matter. Rody’s mind was elsewhere.
He didn’t have to wait long. Richard’s apartment wasn’t far, and Rody knew his routine all too well. He was meticulous like that-always watching, always observing. He’d learned Richard’s habits in case he ever needed to step in, to shield Vincent from his influence. And now, that moment had come.
Rody lurked in the shadows of the alley, his breath shallow as he watched. The street was quiet, almost eerily so, as Richard finally appeared, walking down the sidewalk without a care in the world. Rody’s eyes followed him, his muscles tensing as the familiar figure came closer.
Richard didn’t see him-didn’t even notice the presence lurking just out of sight. Typical. So self-absorbed, so sure of his place in Vincent’s life. It made Rody sick.
The second Richard passed the alley, Rody made his move.
It was quick, precise. Rody grabbed him from behind, pulling him into the alley with a strength that even surprised him. Richard barely had time to cry out before Rody’s hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him. He could feel Richard’s body tense in panic, the struggle beginning.
“Shh…” Rody whispered, his voice low and chilling, “This won’t take long.”
Richard thrashed, but Rody held him tight, his grip unyielding. His heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn’t fear-it was adrenaline, coursing through him, pushing him forward. Richard’s attempts to escape only fueled Rody’s determination.
This was for Vincent. It had to be done.
Richard’s muffled gasps filled the air, his strength waning as Rody’s hand tightened around his throat. The struggle grew weaker and weaker until, finally, Richard went limp in his arms.
Rody stood there, panting, staring down at the lifeless body in his hands. His chest heaved, the reality of what he’d done slowly sinking in, but instead of guilt, there was something else-relief. A sick, twisted sense of relief.
It was over. Richard was gone.
He dropped Richard’s body into the shadows of the alley, wiping his hands on his pants as if erasing the last trace of what had happened. No one would find him for a while. The city had its dark corners, places where people disappeared, and Rody had just made sure Richard was one of them.
As he walked away, his steps light and quick, a small smile began to form on his lips. He had done it. He had proven his love for Vincent in the most absolute way. Now, nothing stood between them.
Vincent would be his. Completely.
Rody’s breath was shallow as he neared Vincent’s apartment again, the thrill of what he had done still coursing through him. He had done it. He had gotten rid of Richard, just like Vincent wanted. Now, everything would fall into place.
His fingers trembled as he knocked on Vincent’s door, the faint scent of the alley still clinging to him. For a moment, he felt a wave of panic-what if Vincent didn’t answer? What if he changed his mind? But then, the door creaked open, revealing Vincent standing there in the dim light of the hallway.
Vincent’s face was unreadable at first, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Rody’s disheveled appearance. There was a pause, the kind that stretched just a moment too long, before Vincent’s lips curled into a slow, almost serpentine smile.
“You did it,” Vincent said, his voice low and steady, almost a purr.
Rody swallowed hard, his heart thundering in his chest. “He’s… he’s gone,” he whispered, the weight of what he had done still heavy on his shoulders, but there was something else now-satisfaction. “Richard’s gone.”
Vincent’s eyes darkened with something unreadable, but there was a flicker of pleasure in them, a satisfaction that mirrored Rody’s own. He stepped aside, letting Rody into the apartment without a word. The door clicked shut behind them, and Rody stood there, his body tense, waiting for Vincent’s reaction.
Vincent approached him slowly, his footsteps eerily quiet as he closed the distance between them. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Rody’s chin, tilting his face up so that their eyes met.
“You really did it,” Vincent repeated, his voice filled with a twisted sort of admiration. “You actually listened to me.”
Rody’s breath hitched, the praise sending a rush of heat through him. “I told you I’d do anything for you,” he murmured, his voice shaky but determined. “I wasn’t lying, Vincent. I *meant* it.”
Vincent’s hand lingered on Rody’s face, his thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. “I know,” he said softly, almost tenderly. But there was a darkness in his voice, something dangerous and electric. “And now, no one else is in the way.”
Rody’s heart swelled at the words, his chest tightening with something almost painful. He had done it-he had proved himself. But more than that, he had given Vincent exactly what he wanted.
Vincent’s fingers slid down Rody’s neck, his touch cold but somehow comforting. “You’ve always been so… devoted,” Vincent murmured, his lips hovering close to Rody’s ear. “Even when you were younger. Always watching. Always wanting.”
Rody shivered, his mind spinning as Vincent’s words dug into him, wrapping around his thoughts like a vice. “I couldn’t help it,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re everything to me.”
Vincent pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto Rody’s with an intensity that made his skin prickle. “And now you’ve shown me just how far you’re willing to go.”
There was a pause, and then, Vincent’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Good.”
Rody’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel something breaking open inside him-something dark and raw, something that had been festering for years. The fear, the hesitation, it all fell away as Vincent’s approval washed over him like a drug.
Vincent moved closer again, his breath warm against Rody’s neck as he whispered, “You belong to me now, Rody. Completely.” There was a possessiveness in his tone, something dark and twisted, but it made Rody’s pulse quicken in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Yes,” Rody breathed, his voice trembling with both fear and exhilaration. “I’m yours, Vincent. I’ve always been yours.”
Vincent’s hand gripped Rody’s hair, pulling his head back slightly so that their eyes met again. The look in Vincent’s eyes was unhinged, a mixture of satisfaction and something far more sinister. He was enjoying this-reveling in it.
“I know,” Vincent murmured, his voice dark and velvet-soft. “And you’ve proved it.”
Rody’s chest tightened as Vincent leaned in, his lips brushing against Rody’s in a fleeting, almost ghostly touch. It wasn’t tender, wasn’t soft. It was a claim, a mark of ownership, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down Rody’s spine.
When Vincent pulled away, there was a wicked glint in his eyes. “No one else will ever get between us again,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “You made sure of that.”
Rody nodded, his heart racing, his mind filled with only one thought-Vincent was his now. He had done what needed to be done. Richard was gone, and there was nothing left standing between them.
“I did it for you,” Rody whispered, his voice fragile but fierce. “I did it because I love you.”
Vincent’s smile grew, cruel and knowing. “And I love you too, Rody,” he said softly, but there was a darkness to his words, a possessive hunger that promised more than just affection. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Rody’s pulse quickened, his head spinning with the weight of Vincent’s words. He had finally done it. He had finally earned Vincent’s love.
But as Vincent pulled him closer, his fingers digging into Rody’s skin, there was a part of him that realized the truth-the twisted, sickening truth.
He wasn’t just in love with Vincent.
He was trapped.
And he would do anything to stay there.
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