The World Is Mine For The Taking

I slammed him to the ground in an instant, forcing the air out of his lungs, then drove my heel straight into his crotch.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaah?!"

I heard a crunch from down there, and it sure as hell sounded like I'd broken something. Good. I didn't care if I did. This asshole didn't deserve to have his dick intact. He didn't deserve to be married to someone like Grace, who had taken care of me when I was a kid. He should just die.

I raised my heel to smash his crotch again, but that's when the other men around me opened fire.

I dodged, moving faster than they could follow, bullets whizzing past me as I dashed toward them. Their eyes widened, the fear sinking in. They didn't stand a chance. I was in front of them before they even realized it, and with one swift motion, my knee slammed into the first guy's crotch, sending him crumbling.

Before he hit the ground, I spun and kicked the next guy straight in the balls, his legs giving out as he collapsed, clutching himself in agony.

The two of them hit the ground hard, bodies crumpling in an instant. But I wasn't finished. No, they had to pay. Even though they were already writhing, helpless on the floor, I pressed my foot down onto their balls, grinding the soles of my shoes against them.

"GRRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"NGGGGGGGH!"

Their cries ripped through the air, mingling with the sickening crunch beneath my heel. I felt the tension give way as something inside snapped. It was satisfying, seeing them squirm beneath me. I wasn't going to let them off easy.

The other three watched in horror, their faces drained of color as they realized what they were witnessing. Fear took hold of them, their bodies trembling like leaves in the wind. I could practically see their thoughts, the instinctive panic kicking in as they squeezed their legs together, trying to protect their dicks from an imagined pain.

Even just watching was enough to make them feel like their own balls were getting crushed.

They bolted, fear driving their every step, but they didn't stand a chance. I was already on them, dodging their desperate gunfire like it was nothing. In seconds, I was right behind them. I grabbed one by the collar and yanked him back, slamming his body into the ground with a hard thud.

"No, no!" he cried out, but it was pointless.

Before he could beg, my foot crushed his crotch, a sickening crunch filling the air as his balls gave way under the force. I didn't even blink as I dashed to the next one, driving my heel into his crotch with the same brutal impact. Another crunch echoed, his body folding in pain.

The last one barely had time to process it before I was on him, smashing his crotch into a mess of blood and shattered bones.

All three hit the ground, their bodies twitching in agony. Dark red stains spread rapidly across the crotch of their pants, blood pooling from where their dicks had once been. Their eyes rolled back, hands instinctively clutching what little was left of their ruined balls, but it didn't matter. It was over.

I stood over Philip, staring down at his pathetic form. His body twitched, and his eyes were rolled so far back that only the whites showed. Without hesitation, I drove my foot into his crotch, again and again. Each kick sent a wet, crunching sound through the air, echoing like the satisfying crack of bones breaking. The sickening noise filled the yard, louder with every impact.

Even the dog in the corner, sensing the brutality, cowered and tucked itself deeper into the shadows. Philip's mouth began to foam, white bubbles gathering at the corners, but I didn't care. I kept going. He deserved this.

"Stop, Rose! Stop!" A sudden voice tore me out of my fury. Grace. Her arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me away as if she could drag the anger out of me. "Please, don't kill him. Don't let your rage take over.

You don't have to do this," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she clung to me.

"But Grace…" My voice was raw with anger. He had done something unforgivable, something that wasn't just cruel—it was monstrous. And it wasn't just to anyone. It was to his own wife. He deserved to fucking die. He deserved worse than that.

"You don't have to," Grace's voice cracked, and I could feel her sobs as she pressed her body against mine. "Please, Rose… I can't let you kill him."

With that, the haze of rage finally started to lift, allowing me to catch my breath. The raw fury that had consumed me—the image of Philip sharing Grace with other men, letting them use her however they wanted—still burned inside me, but now it was controlled. The fire was still there, but it wasn't blinding me anymore. And it was Grace who'd stopped me.

Grace, the one who should've wanted those bastards dead more than anyone. Grace, of all people.

"Are you finally alright?" Her voice was soft, filled with concern, as she held on to me tightly. She hadn't let go, even after everything.

I took a deep breath, still feeling the rage simmer beneath the surface. "Yeah," I muttered, forcing myself to sound calm. "You can let me go now."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she loosened her grip and stepped back. I turned to look at her, trying to smile despite the storm still raging in my chest. Even after all the shit she'd been through, she stood strong, unwavering. That's what made her special—her ability to stay tough, even when the world tried to break her. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever be that strong. Could I ever be like her?

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice quieter.

She gave me a warm, reassuring smile.

I crouched down and examined Philip's wrist. My suspicion was confirmed—there it was, a tattoo bearing the symbol of the cult we were investigating. Philip was indeed a member of the Eclipse. I checked the other men, and they had the same mark.

"When did he get this tattoo?" I asked Grace, my voice steady despite the chaos.

"It was when a man came to our home," she replied.

"A man?" I pressed. "Do you remember anything about him?"

"All I know is he was a young man with pure black hair and black eyes. He looked otherworldly, like he didn't belong to this world at all."

Her description didn't match anyone I knew.

"Do you know his name?" I asked.

"James," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "James Moriarty."