Issue 1.12 (B): Rejection

Maria rides John with slow, deliberate rolls of her hips, her dark hair sticking to her flushed skin, her silver choker glinting under the dim lamplight. John’s massive hands grip her waist, his muscles flexing as he thrusts up into her, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

You stand frozen in the doorway, your stomach churning. This isn’t just wrong, it’s sick. A forty-two-year old uncle and his eighteen-year-old niece. A legal guardian and the girl he’s supposed to protect, not fuck. The sight makes your skin crawl, bile rising in your throat.

Maria turns her head, her silver eyes locking onto yours. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she arches her back, letting out a breathy moan as she grinds down onto her uncle's cock. "You said your feelings for me wouldn’t change," she purrs, her voice dripping with challenge. "No matter what my secrets are." She reaches out, her fingers slick with sweat, and traces a slow, teasing line down her own stomach. "Can you still love me, Bennet? Knowing I fuck my uncle?"

Your jaw clenches. "No," you say, your voice cold. "I can’t."

You turn on your heel, unable to stomach another second of this fucked-up sight. Your first time won’t be with a girl who spreads her legs for her own uncle, who lets him claim her like some kind of sick prize. You won’t be some pathetic cuck, settling for sloppy seconds from an incestuous freak. You won’t be a part of this.

Before you storm out, you glare at John. He’s still buried inside Maria, his breath ragged, but his eyes flick to yours. "You’re a forty-two-year-old man fucking your eighteen-year-old niece," you spit, disgust curling your lips. "The girl you’re supposed to look after." You shake your head, your voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Fuck you, John. You’re the most disgusting person I’ve ever met."

For the first time, John actually looks ashamed. His grip on Maria loosens, his broad shoulders tensing as he turns his face away. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing excuses this.

You slam the door behind you, the night air hitting your face like a slap. You've learned the Trents' secret, and whatever foolish infatuation you had for Maria is dead. Burned away by the sight of her riding her uncle’s dick like some depraved nightmare come to life.

A few days later, the Trent house is empty. They’re gone, vanished from Silverbrook as quickly as they arrived. The town breathes a sigh of relief, the murders solved, the monster slain. No one asks where they went. No one cares.

You don’t either.

Your feelings for Maria died the moment you saw the truth. Some guys might’ve stayed, might’ve been weak enough to accept her even after that, to play the role of the obedient beta cuck while she fucked her "alpha" uncle in front of them. But not you.

You move on.

Sometimes, though, you find yourself staring at the silver knife you carried that night, the one you thought you’d use to slay a monster. You wonder if this is really the end of your story as a hunter, or if the real monsters aren’t the ones that howl in the woods, but the ones who hide in plain sight, wearing human skin.

And then you remind yourself: some things are better left in the past.

Ending (B): Rejection