Chapter 6 Breach - 6

• Chapter Six: Mine to Protect, Mine to Ruin
• 11:45 A.M.
• Punishment.
• Cain shoved Saxon down onto the desk. The wood groaned beneath them.
• “Hands flat.”
• Saxon obeyed, breathless.
• Cain ripped his joggers down. No prep. No lube. Just spit and fury and the sharp edge of jealousy turned into pure, sexual violence.
• He shoved two fingers into Saxon, twisting, stretching.
• Saxon moaned, “Fuck—”
• “You want pretty boys with soft hands?” Cain growled. “You want compliments and giggles?”
• Saxon’s head dropped forward. “No. I want you.”
• Cain spat on his cock, lined up, and slammed in.
• Saxon cried out, body arching, fingers clawing at the desk.
• Cain gripped his hips so hard he’d leave bruises. “Say it again.”
• “I want you—fuck—Cain—”
• Cain pounded into him, brutal, merciless, possessive.
• “This is mine,” he snarled. “You are mine.”
• Saxon’s moans turned to cries. Raw. Desperate.
• Cain pulled out halfway—then drove back in so hard the desk shook.
• Saxon nearly sobbed. “I’m yours—I’m fucking yours—please—don’t stop—”
• Cain leaned down, lips brushing Saxon’s ear.
• “If you ever flirt with him again,” he whispered darkly, “I’ll tie you up, edge you for hours, and come on your face while you beg.”
• Saxon’s cock twitched.
• Cain smirked.
• “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
• Saxon whimpered. “Yes—fuck—yes, I would—”
• Cain grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and bit down on his neck, leaving a mark deep and dark.
• Then he fucked him harder—so hard Saxon screamed, lost in the chaos of pain, ownership, lust.
• And when he finally came, it was explosive—Cain didn’t even touch him. Saxon just shattered, gasping Cain’s name like it was the only word he’d ever known.
• Cain came seconds later, groaning deep, spilling inside him.
• He didn’t pull out.
• He stayed buried.
• Breathing hard. Jaw clenched.
• Saxon was trembling beneath him, a puddle of sweat, come, and wrecked pride.
• But he was smiling.
• “I knew you were jealous.”
• Cain pulled out slowly, watched the slick drip from between Saxon’s legs.
• “You did that on purpose.”
• Saxon looked over his shoulder. “I’d do it again.”
• Cain reached forward and slapped his ass. Hard.
• Saxon groaned. “Again.”
• Cain slapped the other cheek. “Slut.”
• Saxon turned fully and grabbed Cain by the shirt, pulling him into a filthy kiss—tongue, teeth, sweat.
• When they broke apart, breathless, Cain whispered, “Don’t make me lose control like that again.”
• Saxon grinned. “I will.”
• ⸻
• 12:31 P.M.
• Saxon was back in bed, sprawled face-down, ass red and lips swollen.
• Cain stood at the doorway, re-adjusting his holster.
• “You’re not leaving, are you?” Saxon mumbled, cheek pressed to the sheets.
• Cain looked back. “Just for an hour.”
• “You’ll miss me.”
• Cain smirked. “I’ll be watching.”
• Saxon groaned. “Pervert.”
• Cain walked out.
• But he wasn’t smiling anymore.
• Because there were things moving outside this estate—plans, faces, names—and someone had broken past the outer sensors during the distraction.
• Someone who didn’t trip a single alarm.
• Someone who wanted Saxon alive.
• For now.
• ⸻
• Elsewhere…
• In a dark room, a laptop screen glowed.
• A grainy still image played on repeat:
• Saxon, bent over the desk.
• Cain buried inside him. “Perfect,” a voice murmured. “Let them think it’s love.”
• “Then take it all.”
• ⸻
• 01:06 A.M.
• Cain’s phone lit up with a silent alert.
• Security breach. Sector 9.
• No motion alarms. No trip sensors. No visible intruder on the feeds. Just a silent ghost slipping between shadows and static, straight through the most vulnerable wing of the estate.
• The east quarter.
• Where Enzo was posted.
• And Saxon… asleep, unguarded.
• Cain was on his feet before the second alert hit.
• This was no accident.
• ⸻
• 01:09 A.M.
• The halls echoed with Cain’s footsteps as he sprinted toward the east wing. His earpiece buzzed with static. No contact. No eyes.
• Then—
• Gunfire. One shot. Close range.
• Cain’s stomach dropped.
• Enzo.
• He turned the corner and froze.
• Enzo was slumped against the wall, blood slick down the front of his shirt, a hand pressed to his ribs, breathing in short, shallow gasps.
• “Fuck—” Cain dropped beside him, yanked off his jacket, and pressed it to the wound. “Stay with me.”
• Enzo winced. “They knew—where I was. They waited.”
• “Who was it?” Cain growled.
• Enzo’s lips twitched. “Didn’t see their face. But they were fast. Like you.”
• Cain clenched his jaw. “I’ll get you out.”
• “Forget me,” Enzo hissed. “Saxon. They’re after him. You need to—”
• Cain was already gone.
• ⸻
• 01:12 A.M.
• Saxon’s Room
• Saxon stirred from sleep, naked beneath the silk sheets, when he felt the shift in air—like gravity pulling wrong. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
• Then—
• A blade glinted near his throat.
• “Don’t move,” a voice whispered from the shadows.
• A woman’s voice.
• Soft. Cold. Familiar.
• Saxon’s blood went cold.
• “Rena,” he breathed.
• The lights flicked on.
• She stood at the edge of his bed—leather-clad, knife in one hand, a gun holstered beneath her jacket. Her smile was poison.
• “Hello, Sax.”
• Saxon sat up slowly, blanket sliding down his chest. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
• Rena’s smile widened. “I get that a lot.”
• She moved closer, dragging the knife across the nightstand, nails tapping the wood.
• “You look good,” she purred. “All filled out. Still reckless. Still letting dangerous men inside you.”
• Saxon didn’t move. “What do you want?”
• Rena tilted her head. “Oh, sweetheart. This isn’t about what I want. It’s about what you took.”
• “I didn’t take anything.”
• “No,” she whispered. “But he did.”
• She touched the knife to Saxon’s collarbone.
• And pressed.
• Hard.
• ⸻
• 01:14 A.M.
• Cain burst through the door, gun raised.
• Rena didn’t flinch.
• She had Saxon by the hair now, the knife against his throat, her eyes calm and smiling.
• “Cain,” she purred. “Always crashing in at the perfect moment.”
• “Step away,” Cain said, voice like stone. “Now.”
• Rena chuckled. “Still so serious. Still pretending you’re in control.”
• Cain took a step forward.
• Rena pressed the knife deeper. Saxon hissed.
• “One more inch, and I open his throat,” she said lightly.
• Cain paused.
• “You don’t want to do this,” he said.
• “I do. I really do.” Her eyes locked on him. “But I want to hurt you more.”
• Cain clenched his jaw. “Why?”
• Rena’s gaze softened. “Because he was mine first.”
• Saxon froze.
• Cain blinked.
• “You loved me,” she whispered to Cain. “You kissed me. Fucked me. Promised me the world.”
• Cain’s expression didn’t shift. “I lied.”
• Rena laughed. “I know. And now you’ll bleed for it.”
• She shifted—too fast to follow—and hurled the knife at Cain.
• Cain ducked, rolled, fired once—clean through her shoulder.
• Rena screamed, staggered, then leapt through the window with a crash of glass, disappearing into the night.
• Cain rushed to Saxon.
• Blood. Not deep, but the line across his collarbone bled fast.
• “I’m fine,” Saxon muttered. “Enzo?”
• “Alive. Barely.”
• Cain cupped Saxon’s face. “Did she touch you?”
• Saxon nodded. “Just the knife. Nothing else.”
• Cain growled and kissed him—rough, wild, furious.
• Then he pulled him into his arms.
• “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”