#br1

Five. 

Your hands and fingers twisted behind you trying to free yourself from the restraints that held you prisoner. 

A boot slammed into the back of your knees and they gave way instantly.  The sheer force at which you collided with the floor sent a searing pain and vibration through your kneecaps and thighs that resonated in your lower spine making your whole upper body slump down, your folded legs beneath you being the only thing preventing you from kissing the floor.  

A single tear escaped from the corner of one of the eyes that you had slammed closed during the impact, rolling down your cheek towards your mouth.  You licked at it as it reached your lips, the salty bitterness consuming your mouth. 

A strong hand grabbed at you from behind, the whole palm engulfing your shoulder, their fingertips digging in between the joints and spaces between your bones and muscles as they pulled you into an upright seated position with ease, your head lazily rolling backward as if you were already lifeless. 

Four. 

You opened your eyes.  Vision blurred by the rest of the watery tears that had pooled beneath your eyelids but never managed to leave.  You blinked trying to rid them and clear your vision.  It took a few moments before you were able to focus and your pupils managed to adjust to the new form of darkness that surrounded you.

You huffed out a deep breath and cocked your head slightly to the left, eyeing up the culprit of the crippling assault as he moved round to face you.  You furrowed your brows as your eyes studied his familiar features.  

Slicked back perfectly styled hair which never seemed to fall out of place no matter how roughly you tugged at it during nights of passion, or when you teasingly ruffled it in jest over morning coffee.  Deep dark chocolate eyes you had spent so many nights getting lost in during deep heartfelt conversations before drifting soundly off to sleep the room filling with silence bar the sounds of your entwined heartbeats and soft breaths.  The perfectly sculpted stubble that used to softly scratch at your delicate skin when his lips, that it oh so perfectly encased, softly and sweetly roamed and kissed every inch of your body. 

Three. 

You watched him under hooded eyes, his eyelashes flickered together in a brief blink and his teeth sunk into his lower lip, a slight bit of hesitation that Billy Russo would not usually have.  Or at least not one he would usually show so willingly. 

It was brief, and he masked it quickly.  But you had caught it. 

He stared at you, deep and intense, completely void of any emotion.  There was no anger or desperation.  No compassion or conflict.  No love. 

Silence surrounded you both.  The air was cold and bitter and with every heavy breath that escaped you a brief puff of mist appeared and evaporated almost as quick. 

Billy outstretched his arm, forcing the muzzle of his chosen weapon deep into your forehead.  It scratched at your skin and you frowned, the thought of how it would leave an ugly mark and possible bruise filled your head.  

Not that it would matter.  You knew what was coming.  You weren't scared.  Had known it would come to this eventually.  This was where everything had been leading to, how things always ended with Billy.  

Blood would always be shed someway, somehow.

Nothing ever ended pretty. 

Two. 

You forced yourself to sit up straight and pushed your skull harder against the end of his gun.  You were determined to prove to him that you were unafraid. Even if deep down in the pit of your stomach your fear was brewing and churning.  

You looked up at him, mirroring his dead eyes.  That brief flicker of doubt appeared in him again and he faltered, arm relaxing ever so slightly before he blinked his doubt away, composed himself, and forced the gun back into your skin.  

You bit your lip, hard.  Blood seeping through cracks in the soft skin and filling your mouth.  The taste an old and familiar friend. 

"Do it."  You spat out through gritted teeth.  You kept your eyes wide refusing to blink and give him the satisfaction of seeing any of the fear that had crept up inside you. 

One.

His finger caressed the trigger, a click filled the air and then... nothing. 

-

He lifted his hand, shaky and void of all the self-control that it previously possessed.  He wiped the back of it across his mouth, smearing your splattered blood over his chin.  He lapped at his lips with his tongue his mouth filling with the bitter iron taste.  An uneven breath escaped him as he turned away from where you now lay slumped on the ground at his feet.  Tears finally stinging at the edge of his eyes. 

It was done. 

The first half of the book felt like we were all in on an inside joke that Misery was clueless about. I found that humorous though. The hint of dual POV was also very pleasant - it left me wanting just the right amount without tearing my heart out as Misery couldn't figure out that she is the mate :)

ngl the knot shit threw me for a loop though. I think my brain kind of just chose to ignore it- since I was like, is this controversial? Is this verging on dog porn? But also like, monster porn is a thing and werewolves ARE based off wolves/dogs.. so like is it weird? Am I just projecting? IDK. Perhaps I didn't realize what the omegaverse entails.

-to be about Lowe and Misery? I speedran the book, under the assumption that I'd soon get more of them in book 2. And then I had a duh moment where I realized, when has Ali ever done that. For some reason the fantasy genre gave different vibes I guess?

-bullshit. The post-nut clarity was too hard. LOWE LITERALLY WANTED TO CLAIM HER VIA HIS CUM ON HER BACK, LIKE.... YOU CAN'T JUST 180 AND GASLIGHT MISERY LIKE THIS.