Chapter 4 Breach - 4

• Chapter Four: You’re Still Mine
• 23:11 P.M.
• Cain’s voice cut sharp through the radio, “Status check—patrol four, respond.”
• Static.
• Cain’s jaw flexed.
• The estate’s east wing should’ve checked in three minutes ago. The cameras in that section had been glitchy since the rain started, but the silence wasn’t just a delay—it was a warning.
• He didn’t wait.
• He ran.
• ⸻
• 23:13 P.M.
• The corridor smelled off—like ozone, sweat, and copper.
• Cain moved in silence, gun drawn, heart pounding in his throat. As he neared the stairwell, he heard the scuff of boots. A low grunt. Then—Saxon’s voice. Muffled. Strained.
• No.
• Cain hit the door and shoved through with full force.
• Saxon was on the floor.
• Kneeling.
• Hands gripping a decorative sculpture from the side table, blood at his lip, shirt torn at the collar. And behind him—a man with a blade, black mask, arm already in mid-swing.
• Cain didn’t think.
• Didn’t aim.
• Bang.
• The bullet tore through the attacker’s shoulder, sending him flying backward into the wall. Saxon fell forward, gasping.
• Cain didn’t pause.
• He crossed the room in two seconds flat, kicked the weapon away, and slammed the man’s head into the marble so hard it cracked. Once. Twice. Again.
• “Cain—” Saxon croaked behind him.
• But Cain didn’t stop. Red mist clouded his vision. His boot found the attacker’s ribs. Over and over.
• This wasn’t a kill.
• This was a message.
• Mine.
• “You touch him again,” Cain snarled, voice shaking, “I’ll rip your fucking throat out and make you choke on it.”
• A whimper. Blood. Silence.
• Cain stood, chest heaving, eyes wild.
• And turned.
• Saxon was still on the floor, trembling, palms scraped from catching himself.
• But those eyes…
• They weren’t afraid.
• They were dark. Wet. Hungry.
• ⸻
• 23:20 P.M.
• Cain dragged the body away, ordered cleanup, and locked the corridor down. Every guard was doubled. Every camera checked. Reinforcements called.
• But when he returned to the bedroom—
• Saxon was already naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, lip still bleeding, cock half-hard, hands resting on his thighs like he was offering himself up.
• Cain froze in the doorway.
• “You were going to kill him,” Saxon whispered.
• Cain said nothing.
• Saxon looked up. “For me.”
• Cain stepped inside, locked the door behind him, and walked forward slowly—like approaching a wild animal.
• Saxon didn’t move.
• “I would’ve done worse,” Cain said finally. “If you’d let me.”
• Saxon’s breath hitched. “I wanted you to.”
• Cain grabbed him by the throat and shoved him down onto the bed, straddling his hips, cock pressed to his belly, fists gripping the sheets.
• “You want to be punished that badly?” Cain rasped.
• Saxon’s voice cracked. “I want to be fucked that badly.”
• Cain kissed him—hard. Brutal. Deep. Tongue and teeth, no mercy.
• He bit Saxon’s lip again, tasted copper, licked it clean.
• Then he flipped him—rough, fast—grabbing the lube from the drawer, slicking his fingers, pushing one inside without warning.
• Saxon gasped, back arching. “More—don’t stop—”
• Cain gave him two, then three—fast, hard, unrelenting, until Saxon was grinding into the bed, panting, moaning like a fucking whore.
• “You like watching me lose control?” Cain hissed.
• Saxon groaned. “I love it. I love when you break for me—”
• Cain lined up his cock, shoved in with one violent thrust that had Saxon choking on his own cry.
• He didn’t wait.
• He grabbed Saxon’s hips and fucked him like a savage.
• No rhythm. No gentleness. Just pure, punishing possession.
• “You’re mine,” Cain growled with every thrust. “Say it.”
• Saxon gasped, drooling on the sheets, legs trembling. “I’m yours—I’ve always been yours—”
• Cain yanked him up by the hair and bit into his shoulder, hard enough to mark.
• Saxon came without being touched—screaming, shuddering, whole body twitching.
• Cain didn’t stop.
• He pounded deeper, hips slapping against the curve of Saxon’s ass, until his own orgasm hit—hot, loud, shaking, with a groan that sounded more like a snarl.
• They collapsed in a tangled heap, breathless.
• Sweaty, shaking and silent.
• ⸻
• 23:47 P.M.
• Cain lay on his back, arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling like he’d just fought a war.
• Because he had.
• Saxon curled beside him—still marked, still raw, but softer now.
• Less armor, more truth.
• He traced the scar near Cain’s ribs. “I remember this.”
• Cain didn’t move. “You gave it to me.”
• “You let me.”
• “You were crying,” Cain said flatly. “I didn’t stop you.”
• Saxon swallowed. “I thought you were leaving me.”
• “I was.”
• Silence.
• Then Saxon whispered, “But you came back.”
• Cain turned his head.
• Their eyes met.
• Cain reached out, brushing a thumb across Saxon’s cheek.
• “I never stopped watching you,” he admitted. “Even when I was gone. Especially then.”
• Saxon exhaled. “You still feel like mine.”
• Cain leaned in.
• Kissed him.
• Soft. Slow. Unforgiving.
• “I never stopped being yours.”
• ⸻
• 00:15 A.M.
• Outside the estate, a shadow moved.
• A phone call was made.
• A voice answered. Cold. Clean.
• “He’s protecting him again.”
• “Good. Then it’ll hurt more when we rip him apart.”
• ⸻
• 03:08 A.M.
• Cain sat on the edge of the bed, knees apart, a medical kit opened on the floor between his boots.
• Saxon lay face-down, breath steady now but soft. Quiet. His back was a map of bruises—some old, some fresh, some beautiful in how they bloomed beneath Cain’s fingers. But the cut above his lip and the abrasion on his shoulder needed cleaning.
• Cain had already taken care of the worst.
• Now came the part that hurt more.
• The silence.
• “You could’ve let me handle him,” Saxon mumbled into the pillow.
• Cain dipped the gauze in antiseptic. “You hesitated.”
• “I wasn’t scared.”
• “I didn’t say you were,” Cain said, pressing the pad to Saxon’s scraped skin.
• Saxon hissed.
• Cain paused, softened the pressure, but didn’t apologize. Saxon didn’t want gentle. Not really.
• “You think I’m weak,” Saxon said.
• Cain’s eyes flicked to his.
• “No,” he said quietly. “I think you’re reckless. Impulsive. Addicted to pain. But not weak.”
• Saxon turned his head just enough to meet Cain’s gaze.
• “Then why’d you leave?”