In too deep, p.1
In Too Deep, page 1
In too deep
erin trejo
Copyright © 2023 by erin trejo
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Note from the author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Note from the author
If you’re looking for a light and fluffy read STEP AWAY NOW. This book contains DARK themes not suitable for everyone. If you’re squeamish this might not be the book for you. Possible triggers including but not limited to: Blood Play, stalking, kidnapping, torture(not done to the MFC by MMC) just to name a few. This is a Dark Secret Society Romance. So you’ve been warned.
Now that I warned you, If you love a man that would go the ends of the world for you, fuck you in ways you’ve never been fucked, and not hate you(you’ll understand when you read) then Ares Scott is your man! Happy reading!
1
As a child, you’re taught how to look at the world; I was no different. I was taught to look at the world in black and white with no color in between. There was no grey, no middle, only sides, and you were punished if you chose the wrong side. I was on the receiving end of those punishments. I was the one who looked at things and questioned them. Wouldn’t you?
I watched my father rule his empire with an iron fist. No one, and I mean no one, was off limits to him. My mother, God rest her soul, was his victim of choice. She was the reason I’m here today. She’s the reason I walk and breathe. I didn’t know it at the time, but my father tried to beat me out of her. He failed. I’m still here. The defiant son. He had no choice but to raise me after he murdered her. I was eleven at the time. Ten years, ten long years of my life have been spent under his authority. I tried to follow the rules he set out for me. I tried to be the man he wanted me to be, but I always looked for more. I looked outside the box my father kept me in. His box. His world. It wasn’t that it was a bad world because it wasn’t. The issue was that I wasn’t loved. Love played no part in our lives. It never has.
“Where’s your head at?” My father asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’re lost in your own little world,” he remarks as he lights his cigar and stares at me across his desk.
“I’m here.”
“You’re being short with me.”
“How would you like me to be? I’m doing what you ask of me, am I not?”
“You are, and you’re doing it well. At the end of all this, when my life is over, you will have my entire empire at your fingertips, Ares.” He says it as if that’s what I want. He doesn’t know what I want. He’s never asked, and he doesn’t care.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask him, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees.
“No, it’s about more. This is about revenge.”
“Revenge against who?” His eyes light up as he sits back in his chair and looks at me.
“All of them, Ares. Bitches are a dime a dozen. They are the ones responsible for the issues. They make it hard for us men to do what we need to do.”
“And that’s why we end them,” I fill in the blanks of what he’s saying. He nods his head, blowing smoke between his lips.
“That’s exactly right. They are expendable at the end of the day,” he states casually.
“Just like my mother?” Now, his eyes darken.
“You know what she did,” he hisses.
“I know what you said she did. I don’t remember much from childhood when you claim she did those things. I shouldn’t have been there when she did what you say she did.” My words make him angry. I can see it in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be around now either,” he deadpans. I smirk now and huff out a laugh.
“Then why am I?”
“You know why you’re here, Ares. You’re my son.”
“A son you never wanted. A son who means nothing to you.”
“That isn’t true. You mean something to me. You’re the only one who can run this empire once I’m gone,” he says.
“And how long will that be?” I ask him, causing his nostrils to flare as he looks at me.
“Is that what you want? A dead father?”
“You never wanted a child, and yet here I am,” I tell him, waving my hand up and down in front of me.
“And you don’t want a father?”
“I don’t need one. I do just fine on my own.”
“Is that what you think? That you don’t need me?” he asks, looking me dead in the eyes.
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“Then you’d be wrong, Ares. You do need me. You need me to teach you, guide you.”
“To do what?”
“Revenge. Torture. All the things you do now,” he answers casually. Now I sit up, straightening my back as I look at him.
“You don’t think I can handle doing those things alone?” He smiles, a smile I hate. One I loathe and want to cut off his face. If given the chance, I may do it.
“That’s not what I’m saying, Ares. You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I? It doesn’t seem that way,” I retort as I shove to my feet, my hands clenching by my sides.
“Ares, you’re my son. I’ve groomed you, made you into what you are today.”
“And what I am?”
“A God. A man of power. A man who holds the world in the palm of his hands.”
“No. I’m a murderer. I kill. I torture and take lives that aren’t mine to take.”
“And how do you know they aren’t yours to take?”
“Who am I, Father?” Now, he stands and places his hands on the desk in front of him, leaning toward me.
“You are Ares Scott! You are the ruler of your empire. You are the chosen one.”
“Chosen by who?”
“Me, of course. Why are you pushing me on this, Ares?”
“I’m not pushing you. Maybe I just don’t see things the same way as you.”
“What other way is there?” he asks, tilting his head to study me. It’s always the same thing. My father scrutinizing me. Me revolting and being rebellious.
“The real world, Father. There is a real world where people don’t go around killing others because they can!”
“And you think you’d survive in that world?” he roars. He’s right. I probably wouldn’t survive in that world. It’s a simple answer.
“No.”
2
“What’s his problem?” Juno asks as I raise the whip and bring it down across the woman’s back. Blood flies through the air as I whip her over and over.
“I don’t know. He makes these small jabs at me. Like I can’t handle the job he’s given me,” I tell Juno, my best friend. My only friend. The one constant thing in my life. He grew up in this mess the same as I did. He does the same things I do, and his father doesn’t question him.
“You seem to be doing fine to me,” he says, nodding to the woman on her knees before me. I look down at the sobbing blonde before huffing out a breath.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” I kneel and run my fingers along the marks I’ve made on her back, bringing my blood-coated fingers to my lips. I lick them clean and smirk up at Juno as he groans.
“What more could he want from you?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Just kept telling me the empire he’s built will be mine one day.”
“He’s not wrong. It will all be yours,” he adds. I nod as I shove to my feet and let the whip fly through the air again. The woman screams in pain before Juno grabs her roughly off the ground and drags her back to her cage. He tosses her in and slams the door, clicking the lock into place before opening another and bringing out a new woman. This one has dark hair and dark eyes, just like me. It makes me wonder if that’s how my mother looked. I don’t remember much about her, just bits and pieces, but for the most part, I try to forget her. What’s the point in remembering someone who hurt you?
“The question is, do I want it?”
“Why wouldn’t you want it?” Juno asks as he straps the girl to the table. She’s lying naked on her stomach, her body on display. Tears already leak down her cheeks, and we haven’t even started yet.
“Don’t you ever think outside the box, Juno?”
“What do you mean?”
“The world outside these walls doesn’t live like this. So why are we?”
“Outside of Bellmont?”
“Yeah. Normal people don’t live the
“Normal? What’s so normal about them?” he asks, adjusting the straps to ensure the woman can’t get up.
“They have wives, children. They go to school, shopping, to the movies, and then there’s us.”
“You would want to do those things?” he asks with his nose scrunched up.
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the option?”
“I don’t know, Ares. I don’t know if people like us are meant to be normal. I’ve never yearned for that kind of thing before.”
“Me either, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, it does. It means we’re not normal, and we both know it. Do you honestly think you could have a normal loving relationship with a woman after the things we do?” he asks, nodding toward the woman on the table. I walk over and run my fingers along her back, watching bumps form on her flesh. This is what we do here. We ruin them. Women, that is. We ruin them and send them back to their families. Some die at our hands, and that’s just a problem we deal with when it arises.
Juno walks over and picks up the knife before standing beside her, letting the blade tip dance across her skin. Her screams pierce the silence, and I do nothing except smile. I watch her face, the way it contorts in pain. There’s a beauty in pain, a beauty I’m intimate with. I wonder if that’s the way they felt. The children they hurt and abused. I shake my head, not wanting to imagine it.
“Do you ever wonder if you’ll have children of your own?” I ask, taking the knife from him. I place the tip against her cheek and slowly press down until I see her crimson blood begin to show. Then I drag the knife across her face. Blood blooms on her skin, and Juno grins at what I’ve just done.
“Children? For what? To be what we are? I mean, yeah, I’m sick in the fucking head, Ares. I wouldn’t want to raise a son to be like me or have my daughter go through this if someone deems it,” he says.
“You ever wonder why there aren’t any girls in Bellmont?” Juno steps back, looking as though he’s thinking about it. The thought has crossed my mind more than once.
“Now that you mention it, it is a little odd, isn’t it?” I nod my head as I carve up the poor woman who lies beneath my blade. She screams; they all scream until they can’t. Like her, they pass out, and maybe that’s a good thing.
“Not a single girl.”
“And there are only three women here,” he says as he thinks it over.
“There is and yet no girls. No female children.”
“Why haven’t I thought of this before?” he asks, looking over at me.
“We didn’t pay attention, Juno. We did as we were raised and ordered. It wouldn’t have been wise of us to notice,” I add. He nods before taking the knife from me, creating art on her skin.
“What do you think their families say? Once they’re returned to them?” I shrug.
“I don’t know. I know whatever they did to end up here is null and void. I’m sure they won’t do it again.”
“And to think this is all going to be yours,” he laughs manically.
“In due time.”
“You would think we’d be privy to the information, considering we’re doing all the dirty work while your father sits in his office doing nothing.”
“One would think so, but that isn’t how things work here, and we both know it. In time, things will change.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just as I said. Things will change. Don’t you want more, Juno? Don’t you ever get tired of being told you know enough?” I ask him. He stops carving up the girl’s back long enough to look at me.
“I do. I know asking my father would get me nowhere, and yours sure as hell isn’t going to tell us anything.”
“Then we find out ourselves.”
“Are you insane?”
“I carve women up for a living. I’m obviously insane, Juno.”
3
Dark hair, blue eyes. It’s such an unusual combination. Dark and light. Those are two things that don’t often go together. Like me. The grey area in between. I wonder what she would look like with my work all over her body. Would she be as appealing as she is now? What would she see when she looked at me? The monster I am because of what I do? Or the monster I am because of what I look like? Either way, she wouldn’t see me for me. No one does. Not even Juno.
She walks across campus, her jeans hugging her curves in all the right places. I can’t stop watching her. There’s something … different about her. I watch as she climbs into the car, and I start mine. She pulls out onto the street, and I follow just far enough behind her she won’t notice me.
I follow her to her house, which she shares with her friends. But are they really her friends? I see the fake smile she plasters on her face, trying to appease them. They don’t see her. Not the way I do.
When she climbs out of the car, I do the same. I walk down the sidewalk and around the side of the house to her window. The shade is broken in one spot, allowing me a glimpse of her. I wait. I wait until she walks in, closing the door behind her and dropping her bag onto the desk before pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. Black bra. I know there are black panties beneath her jeans. It is her favorite color, after all.
She walks to the bathroom, denying me the ability to see her. Anger claws at my insides. After a few minutes, she returns with a towel wrapped around her body and another in her hand, drying her hair. She tosses the one in her hand before looking at herself in the mirror. She raises her hand to her face, running her fingers along her lips before growing angry. Then she grabs her face in her hand and claws at her flesh while screaming. She knows no one else is home to hear her. That’s the only reason she does it.
When she stops screaming and pulls her hand away from her face, you can see the angry red marks she made. Never deep enough to stay there for long, but deep enough to satisfy her. I tilt my head to the side and study her. She isn’t small. She’s probably five foot nine to my six foot three. It’s the perfect height if you ask me.
She slowly drops the towel, and that’s when her body is fully displayed for me. I bite my lip because she’s perfect. She isn’t stick thin. She has curves and a belly. Everything a so-called ‘perfect girl’ doesn’t have, she does. And to me, that’s perfect. She stares at herself in the mirror, turning sideways to look at herself. I see the hate, the disgust. They want her to be perfect. They want her to be stick thin, and I know she sometimes starves herself to be just that.
“You’re so fucking ugly!” She screams at the mirror. If only she knew how beautiful she truly is. There are days I wish I could tell her. I wish I could talk to her, but that isn’t an option, not in my world.
With a sigh, she walks over and sits on the edge of her bed, pulling her vibrator from the drawer beside her bed. I watch in fascination as she turns it on and lays back on the bed. When she spreads her legs, I groan. I watch her slip the vibrator in her pussy and work it in and out. That vibrator has nothing on a real man who could make her feel real things. She arches her back as she slowly pulls it out and circles her clit with the glistening tip. I can’t pull my eyes off her and how she moves and writhes.
I reach for the zipper on my jeans and pull my hard cock out in my hand. Stroking it, I watch her get off as I do the same. No, it’s her that’s getting me off. It’s been her for as long as I’ve been stalking her.
I tug at my cock as she begins to pant and moan. I bite my fucking lip to keep myself from groaning too loudly and risking the chance of her seeing me out here.
I keep stroking myself as she gets herself closer to orgasm. Then she lets go, crying out as her body trembles. I come hard, shooting my seed on the side of the house as I keep my eyes on her. I know I could make her come harder than that. I could make her feel more than that. But she isn’t the type to let me do as I please. She isn’t the type I fuck. She’s everything I can’t have, and it would do me well to remember that.
