Their Wife

Chapter-10

Present day

Ralph felt an intense urge to grasp her throat tightly and suffocate her until she couldn't breathe. He desired to restrain her and whip her so mercilessly that all she could do was scream. It excited him to imagine the sinful things he would do to hear her cries only. There was a twisted part of him that craved to use her blood to create his next painting. Ralph experienced a sense of ecstasy when he observed his reflection in the mirror, his white shirt stained with the blood of his driver. The person had infuriatingly caused him to be late for his exhibition. The haunting echoes of the driver's cries and screams as he plunged a knife deep into his chest still reverberate in Ralph's mind like softly spoken musical notes.

"What a fucking waste?" he muttered disdainfully, contorting his mouth with exasperation as he effortlessly flung his shirt over his shoulder. Tilting his head, he meticulously assessed the multitudinous array of ink adorning his skin, covering the remnants of scars she inflicted upon him two long years ago. Ralph cursed vehemently, his voice dripping with contempt. "Bloody vixen."

As he freshened up, thoughts of her danced through his mind. A mischievous grin curled up his lips. Oh, how Killian had succeeded in taming her. His blood tingled, excitement coursing through his veins as he recalled sight of her scantily clad flushed skin, the disarray of her tousled hair, and the fear flickering in her captivating brown eyes. He savoured the delicious torment far more than he ever expected. Maintaining his restraint was a constant battle, one that led him to countless hours on the therapist's couch. How could he resist the temptation when she sat before him, radiating allure, her delicate form trembling ever so enticingly? Fucking temptation.

Two years. Fucking two years. His hands fisted as anger surged through him once again. She fucking betrayed him, mocked his love, and flee with his brother. Ralph gritted his teeth as he remembered the dead therapist's words. Breathe in. Breathe out. Destroy her. Ruin her- Ralph's eyes snapped open as he muttered deadly without looking back. "Get out."

"You're scaring me, dude," Killian whispered amusedly, his back pressed against the bathroom door. Ralph wondered how long he had been standing there wearing a smug irritable grin. His crystal blue eyes flickered with an intriguing mix of curiosity and mischief. "You've got this menacing aura, like a true psycho." Ralph whispered stretching the word 'psycho'. By the way, are you still seeing the therapist?" He tilted his head curiously.

Fucking bastard.

"She's dead." Ralph casually ruffled his hair with the towel as Killian followed him into the room. His eyes widened with curiosity as if they were talking about the weather.

"What about her body?" Ralph rummaged through his closet, fishing out another pair of white pants and a beige shirt with a single thought in his head, Rara liked neutral colours. Killian's inquisitive gaze roamed Ralph's meticulously curated closet as he leaned against the door. His bulky biceps flexing under the leather as he tilt his head.

"In the trunk." Killian let out a sigh shaking his head in disbelief.

"Scheiße." He cursed pushing himself off the wall and casually strolled in, ignoring Ralph's fiery glare. "Too much work for poor Alexei."

"How are the things with Alessandro? Is he still hiding?" Ralph asked manoeuvring around him. His muscles stretched with tension, the vivid feeling of annoyance at the intrusion in his room suffocated him.

"Not for long though." Killian casually shrugged his shoulders, the leather bothering Ralph. "I plan on having a good dinner with him," Killian's eyes glanced at the distance as his lips widened into a cruel grin. "With his limbs served as desert of course." His smile dropped as he let out a sigh. "unglücklicherweise, I have a race coming up."