Chapter 1: Screams in the Night
The air over the infinity pool hung thick with the smell of salt, chlorine, and the sugary ghost of rum cocktails. The sea below the glass edge churned, black and endless, swallowing the moon’s reflection. Abby Mondale stretched her toned legs across the cool tiles, the Bluetooth speaker beside her pumping a bass-heavy track that vibrated in her ribcage.
“Five million likes,” she said, her voice cutting through the music. She didn’t look up from her phone, the blue light washing over her sharp features. “The morning routine vid. Told you the dance break was the hook.”
Jade Martinez snorted, flexing a defined bicep as she reached for her drink. “My deadlift form reel got seven. People appreciate real strength, Abs. Not just jazz hands.”
“They’re not jazz hands, they’re lyrical expression, you neanderthal,” Abby shot back, but she was grinning.
Maya Chen watched them, a quiet smile on her lips. She reclined on a lounger, her long black hair spilling over the edge like ink. She was cataloguing the scene—the way the pool lights turned the water to liquid cobalt, the sharp angles of the tipped-over chairs further down the deck, shadows long and strange. Good composition. Maybe a later post. ‘Midnight moods.’
Tessa O’Connor twirled a curl of her red hair, scooting closer to Zoe Williams. “I vote we skinny dip. For the story. No, for the aesthetic.”
Zoe laughed, warm and rich. “The aesthetic is ‘getting kicked out of a private resort.’ Pass. My mojito is adventure enough.” She sipped it, the crushed mint sticking to her lip.
It was just a Friday. Another flawless night in a string of them. They were eighteen, invincible, and the world was a series of backdrops for their curated lives.
The music from the speaker died abruptly.
Not a power fade. A severing.
Abby tapped her phone. “What the…”
The silence that rushed in was heavier than the bass had been. It was a physical thing, crowded by the sudden, loud crash of waves against the cliffs below. The palm fronds around the deck, which had been whispering, now sounded like dry, rattling bones.
“Creepy,” Tessa whispered, her bubbly tone gone.
A shadow detached itself from the deeper black of the tree line.
It wasn’t that he walked into the light. He absorbed it, his massive frame seeming to eat the moonlight. Seven feet of solid, coiled muscle. Skin darker than the sea at night. He wore only low-slung cargo pants, scarred and stained. His chest and arms were a map of old violence and raw power.
Damon.
His eyes found them. They didn’t gleam. They were flat, hungrier than any animal’s Jade had ever seen at the zoo. A predator’s calm, patient stare.
For one frozen second, nobody breathed.
Jade moved first. “Run!” she screamed, the sound tearing from her throat.
Chaos erupted. Lounge chairs screeched as they scrambled. Abby’s phone clattered to the tiles. Tessa tripped, her ankle twisting with a sickening pop. A scream ripped from her—sharp, pained.
Zoe, the closest to the cabana, was the fastest. Her nurturing instinct vaporized, replaced by pure survival. She spun, her bare feet slapping on the wet deck.
She didn’t make it two steps.
A hand, vast as a skillet, clamped onto her shoulder. The grip was absolute. It yanked her backward, her feet leaving the ground. Her mojito glass sailed into the pool with a delicate plink.
“No! Let go!” Zoe’s scream was full-throated, desperate. She kicked, her heels connecting with his shin. It was like kicking stone.
The other girls froze, huddled behind a large cabana cabinet, peering around its edge. Abby’s hand was clamped over Tessa’s mouth, muffling her sobs. Jade’s fists were clenched, her body vibrating with the need to fight. Maya watched, her analytical mind utterly, terrifyingly blank.
Damon didn’t speak. He carried Zoe, who fought like a wild thing, to a heavy teak lounger. He bent her over its back, the wood digging into her stomach. One hand, fingers spanning her entire spine, pinned her down.
With a brutal, fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under the strings of her bikini top and pulled. The fabric didn’t tear. It snapped with two sharp twangs. The top fell away.
Zoe’s scream cracked. The night air was cold on her exposed skin.
He didn’t pause. His head dipped. His mouth, shockingly warm and wet, closed over one nipple. He sucked, hard—not a lover’s touch, but a claiming. A brutal, painful pressure that made her arch and cry out. He bit down, not enough to break skin, but enough to make his domination absolute. Then he gave the same treatment to the other, his tongue rough, his suction relentless. A low, wounded noise escaped Zoe’s throat. It wasn’t just pain. A bolt of electric, shameful sensation ripped through her, hot and unwanted, pooling low in her belly.
His free hand shoved her bikini bottoms down her thighs. They caught at her knees. The humid air kissed her bare ass.
“Please,” she sobbed, the word barely audible.
He spit into his palm, a crude, wet sound. He slicked himself—his cock was already out, thick, veiny, and obscenely hard. He pressed the swollen head against her entrance. She was terrified. She was soaking wet.
“God, no…” she whimpered.
He shoved forward in one devastating, splitting thrust.
Zoe’s scream echoed across the empty resort, swallowed by the vast, indifferent ocean. The invasion was brutal, a stretch that burned. He didn’t wait for her to adjust. He set a punishing, rhythmic pace immediately, his hips slamming against her ass with heavy, wet smacks. The lounger groaned with each drive.
Her fists beat against the teak. Tears blurred her vision. But beneath the fear and the violation, her body, traitorously, began to respond. The relentless friction sparked a deep, grinding pleasure that began to duel with the pain. Each inward stroke hit a spot that made her toes curl against the tiles. A moan tangled with her sob, the sound of agonizing pleasure. She hated it. She hated him. She hated the heat coiling tighter and tighter in her core.
From behind the cabana, Abby felt vomit rise in her throat. Jade was breathing in ragged, furious gasps. Tessa wept silently into Abby’s shoulder. Maya’s face was a mask of horror, but her eyes were fixed, unblinking.
Maya watched Zoe’s face. Saw the tears. Saw the moment her mouth fell open, not in a scream, but in a silent, shuddering ‘O’. Saw her eyes roll back for a second before she squeezed them shut.
Something in Maya broke.
Her gaze swept the deck, landing on an empty, heavy-bottomed glass bottle abandoned near a chair. Without a sound, she crept out. Her slender limbs felt like water, but her hand was steady. She picked it up.
Damon was lost in the rhythm of his fucking, his head thrown back, tendons standing out in his neck.
Maya charged.
She brought the bottle down on the crown of his head with every ounce of her strength. It didn’t break. He grunted, the blow barely registering. Enraged, she reversed her grip and smashed it against the tile edge of the pool. It exploded, leaving a jagged, glittering shank in her hand.
She didn’t hesitate. She plunged the sharp, broken glass into the side of his torso, just above his hip.
This time, he felt it.
A roar of pure fury tore from his lungs. He pulled out of Zoe, who collapsed onto the lounger, gasping. Damon backhanded Maya with a force that lifted her off her feet. She spun, hitting the deck hard, the taste of copper flooding her mouth. Stars exploded behind her eyes.
The world blurred. She saw him loom over her, a mountain of wrath. He kicked the broken glass from her limp hand. His pants were already undone. He yanked them down just enough to free his cock again, glistening wet from Zoe. He dropped to his knees, his weight pinning her thighs.
“You little bitch,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, the first words he’d spoken.
He grabbed the waistband of her delicate lace bikini bottoms and ripped them apart like tissue paper. The cold air hit her. Before she could even process the exposure, he was on her. He drove into her in one vicious, unyielding stroke.
Maya’s shriek was choked. The pain was white-hot, a rending. He fucked her with a brutal, straightforward cadence, his weight driving her spine into the hard, wet tiles. Each thrust was a punishment. She turned her head to the side, tears streaming into her hair, and saw her friends watching from the shadows.
She saw Jade’s furious, impotent rage.
She saw Tessa’s horrified fascination.
She saw Abby’s hand covering her own mouth, her leader’s eyes wide with terror… and something else.
She saw Zoe, pushing herself up on shaky arms, watching, her face a mess of tears and confused arousal.
The pain began to shift. The raw, burning stretch eased, replaced by a deep, insistent fullness. The friction found a rhythm, a terrible, compelling rhythm. A treacherous warmth began to spread from where they were joined. A low, guttural sound was punched from her chest with his next thrust. It wasn’t a sob.
Her body, against every command from her mind, began to arch to meet him. The shame was a fire in her veins, hotter than the pleasure, but the pleasure was there, undeniable, building with each filthy, wet slap of his skin against hers. Her mind fragmented. She was the beauty influencer analyzing the dramatic arch of her own back in the moonlight. She was the girl being brutally ravaged on a cold deck. She was a creature of pure sensation, hurtling toward a climax she didn’t want.
Her eyes locked with Abby’s from across the deck. In that shared glance was an entire universe of shattered normalcy. There was fear, yes. But there was also a dark, silent, shameful understanding. A door had been blown off its hinges.
Damon buried himself deep inside her with a final, grinding thrust, his own release a hot flood. He held there for a long moment, his breath hot on her neck.
Then he stood up, pulling his pants back into place with a casual, terrifying ease. He looked from Maya, trembling and exposed on the deck, to the cluster of girls hiding in the dark.
A slow, sharp smile cut across his face.
“Your turn,” he said softly, his eyes landing on Jade.