Ricochet (Vigilantes #1)

Apart, we were nothing more than two broken halves, but together, our jagged edges fit perfectly, sealed into something whole again.

But fuck, that body of hers called out to me like a siren. I felt like a rotten bastard for what I wanted to do to it. How badly I needed to watch her writhe with the pleasure of being defiled by my cock, while her screams reverberated inside the small shower stall.

Cage a bird that once felt the wind through its feathers and the world beneath its feet, and you’d find that insane glint of hope in its eyes that enticed it to escape every time the door swung open. Even if it could no longer fly, it’d never stop vying for its freedom, and neither would I.

Creation and healing are born of the same thread. Bringing something to life can sometimes heal the soul, while still honoring what a person has lost.

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Every scar told a story, but it was the ones we didn’t want others to see that told a truth.

I’d found people got uncomfortable quicker by my staying quiet while holding a deadpan stare.

I’d rather walk a mile with a cucumber up my ass than fuck you.

I saw darkness in her beauty, and she saw beauty in my darkness. Yin and yang. Black and white. Beauty and scars; fury and forgiveness. She should’ve been my nemesis, but in her, I found something I didn’t know I was looking for.

It’s been three years since I’ve touched someone. I don’t want to give you pain with these hands. I just want to feel.

I want to.” To be set free? Fucked? I’ve no idea what she’s begging me for.

Love was the only thing stronger than hate. Fuck, if I didn’t already try hating her once.

Monsters did exist. They didn’t hide under the bed, though. They stormed through the fucking door and stole away everything we loved.
To defeat a monster, I had to become one.

Nasty thing, a conscience, isn’t it? Keeps us aware of what’s right and wrong.

No thanks. I’m not an artist.” “You don’t have to be. That’s the beauty of creating art. It’s cathartic. Think of your past, your present, your future. Draw what troubles you. It can be a face, a place, a story inside of one single image.

Outside the window, broken and abandoned husks dotted the landscape, set against the gray, dishwater sky. Scarred and beaten, the perfect metaphor for the people who lived within its forgotten neighborhoods, Detroit was like an abused kid, just waiting for the day someone would come along and give a fuck about it. The third world city of America.

She lowers herself to the bed and releases a pained sigh that is both relief and agony. I know this because I feel it, too, as I rock in and out of her tight pussy with the realization that I don’t want the torment to end. I want to stay inside of her, with her warm, silky body around my dick and her soft whisper droning inside my head, telling me how good it feels.

Shit seemed to get crazy the moment I whipped out my dick, like unleashing the goddamn Kraken every time I unzipped my pants.

That was the thing about pain, it came with a universal understanding for those who survived it—don’t ask, don’t tell.

There’s little joy in life for me, And little terror in the grave; I’ve lived the parting hour to see Of one I would have died to save.

There was a time I’d feared the dark, but I’d since found comfort in it. Felt protected by it.

There was nothing normal or typical about our love. We should’ve been one hot mess of madness for all that we’d suffered, but just as a flower grows from the sky’s tears, our love grew from pain. It blossomed in darkness and thrived with time.

The stars in the sky are the souls of the people we love. They shine so bright, not even the night can hide them. And when we’re lost, they guide us.

The stars in the sky
Unhidden by night
Souls of our loved ones
Guide us by sight
But when dawn breaks
Bringing day’s light
Remain in our hearts
And all wrongs become right;
I'll see you in the night.

The ultimate revenge isn’t the murder of my enemy. It’s the whisper of truth on my last stolen breath.

To defeat a monster, I had to become one.

You asked for dark. I’m going to give it to you … You are the violence inside of me, Aubree. My most exquisite destruction.

You never tried to make yourself known to her because … you were giving her to me.

You’re a fighter. Your scars aren’t about the rounds you’ve lost. They’re about the ones you walked away from. The ones you survived.

You were never meant to be mine, Aubree. But I’ll take you. All of you.