Forced to be my sisters lover in a reverse world-Chapter 30: …

I let out a long, exhausted sigh, my body heavy and slick with sweat after pounding Noah senseless.
He was curled up beside me, nestled close, his lips latched onto my breast, suckling softly. It was something we'd stumbled upon recently, a little kink of his that sent warmth flooding through me every time he did it.
I reached down, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his forehead, my fingers lingering on his skin as I watched him. God, he looked so damn beautiful like this—peaceful, vulnerable, his mouth working gently against me. A rush of maternal instinct hit me hard, making my chest tighten as I cradled him closer for a moment.
"Sorry, baby," I murmured, my voice low and tender as I carefully eased him off my breast. His lips parted with a faint, wet pop, and he shifted slightly, still lost in sleep, his breathing slow and even. "Mommy's gotta take out the trash..."
I watched him for a second longer, soaking in the sight of his relaxed face, before sliding out of bed, my legs shaky from the intensity of what we'd just done.
I shoved my legs into some cargo pants and yanked on my boots, tightening the laces. The black shirt went over last, a dull armor for what was coming.
Moving to under the bed, my fingers brushed against the cool, worn leather of the gloves I'd stashed there earlier.
I pulled them out, slipping them over my hands with a quiet satisfaction, the material hugging my skin tight.
Then I grabbed the heavy duffle bag that was also beneath the mattress, hoisting it over my shoulder with a soft grunt. I glanced down at Noah, his chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths, completely unaware. Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
"I'll be back soon, I love you..." I murmured against his mouth, my voice barely a whisper in the dim room. I kissed him again, lingering for a moment, tasting the faintest hint of salt on his lips before pulling away.
I crept out of the bedroom, my footsteps light on the hardwood floor, careful not to let the old boards creak under my weight. As I moved through the house, I avoided the spots I knew groaned under pressure, slipping out the front door with nothing more than a faint click of the latch. Noah was a deep sleeper—always had been—so I wasn't overly concerned about waking him, but I still took every precaution.
The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the stuffy warmth of the house.
I slid into my car, the driver's seat creaking faintly under me as I tossed the bag onto the passenger side with a soft thud.
Before I started the engine, I reached for the necklace hanging around my neck—a crude, handmade thing, strung with a small vial containing a drop of Noah's blood, sealed tight. I pressed my lips to it, the glass cold against my skin, a ritual I'd started ever since I made it.
Since wearing it, everything had gone my way, every gamble paid off, every risk turned to reward. A shiver of anticipation ran through me as I turned the key, the engine purring to life in the quiet of the night.
I sped off, my knuckles turning white around the steering wheel as the tires moved against the pavement. The world outside blurred into streaks of orange streetlights and passing shadows. My heart was hammering, but my mind was locked in — cold, focused.
I was about to do something bad, something irreversible... but necessary. Completely necessary. For us. For everything I've built with him.
The hum of the engine filled the silence, a constant growl that matched the storm brewing in my chest. I tightened my grip, eyes flicking between the road and the small charm hanging from the mirror — the one with Noah's name etched into it.
"For our future..." I whispered under my breath as I turned the last corner. The streetlights dimmed, the road narrowing into darkness, and my destination came into view — waiting for me like fate itself.
I pulled my car onto the curb, the engine shutting off with a soft click as I steadied myself, taking slow, deliberate breaths.
My heart thumped hard in my chest, adrenaline already creeping in. "Here we go..." I muttered under my breath, stepping out into the cool night air.
I glanced around, making sure no one was watching, before slipping around to the back of the dilapidated house, its paint peeling and windows grimy with neglect.
I'd scouted this dump a few days ago, so I knew the layout like the back of my hand. The rickety ladder and the mattress I'd stashed earlier was still propped against the rear wall and the mattress remained positioned perfectly, hidden in the shadows of overgrown bushes.
I tested the first rung with my weight, wincing at the faint creak, but it held. They never checked back here—sloppy, careless, just like everything else about this place.
Climbing up, I moved with measured steps, my boots barely making a sound against the metal. I reached the second-floor window, the one belonging to her—the bitch who tried to torch my relationship, to tear everything I had apart.
Peering through the smudged glass, I saw her lying on her side, facing away from me. She was laughing softly, her hand moving rhythmically under the thin sheet as she stared at whatever filth was playing on her cracked laptop screen. Perfect. She wouldn't see me unless she rolled over, and I wasn't about to give her the chance.
A faint moan slipped from her lips, and I grimaced. Disgusting. Her room was a pigsty mess—clothes strewn everywhere, empty takeout containers piling up on the nightstand, and a faint stale smell seeping even through the closed window.
I gripped the edge of the frame, carefully sliding it open just enough to slip through. The hinges groaned faintly, but she didn't notice, too caught up in her little porno. I eased myself inside, one leg at a time, my movements slow and deliberate. My sneakers touched the cluttered floor without a sound, and I crouched low, staying in the shadows as I watched her, waiting for the right moment to move closer.
At last, I crept forward, inch by inch, my breath shallow and controlled as I closed the distance between us. The clutter on her floor made it tricky, but I avoided every crumpled soda can and tangled heap of clothes, my eyes locked on her oblivious form.
Finally, I loomed over her, my shadow falling across the bed. In one swift motion, I clamped my hand over her mouth and nose, my grip firm and unyielding. She thrashed for a moment, her muffled gasps hot against my palm, her wide eyes darting in panic. But it didn't take long—her struggles weakened, her body went slack, and she was out cold, a limp weight under my hold.
I exhaled, a low grunt escaping as I hoisted her up. She was heavier than she looked, deadweight dragging at my arms.
I maneuvered her toward the open window, the night air cool against my sweat-dampened skin. With a careful shove, I pushed her through, watching as she tumbled down onto the old mattress I'd placed below earlier. The impact was soft, barely a thud, and I nodded to myself—everything was still going according to plan.
I descended the ladder quickly, the metal rungs cold under my hands, and landed beside her with a quiet thump.
Scooping her up, I slung her over my shoulder, her unconscious form dangling like a ragdoll. Her faint, shallow breathing brushed against my neck as I carried her to my car parked just along the curb.
I popped the trunk with a click of the key fob, dumped her inside with a dull thud, and slammed it shut. A quick glance around confirmed no one had seen a thing—the street was deserted under the flickering streetlight.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I started the engine, the low rumble a familiar comfort. I peeled away from the curb, tires crunching over unseen gravel as I headed toward the spot my associate and I had chosen weeks ago—a remote, abandoned warehouse where no one would hear a thing.
A twisted giggle slipped from my lips, high and sharp in the quiet car. "I love you, Noah," I whispered to myself, the words laced with a dark, obsessive edge as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, the road stretching out into the night ahead.
The drive to the warehouse felt like a descent into a twisted dream. My hands gripped the steering wheel tight as the weight of what I was about to do pressed down on my chest. I was teetering on the edge of something dark, something irreversible, but fuck it—I was in too deep to turn back now.
When I pulled up to the warehouse, it was like stepping into another dimension. The air was biting, sharp with the scent of rust and decay. In the distance, the city skyline glimmered, a reminder of the normalcy I'd have to return to after this.
I hope Noah hadn't woken up yet, hadn't noticed the empty space beside him where my arms should've been.
I stepped out of the car, gravel crunching under my boots, and made my way to Mary, the crooked cop I'd bought off weeks ago. She stood by the warehouse door, arms crossed, her face half-shadowed in the dim sodium light. As I approached, her eyes flicked over me, cold and calculating.
"You've got her, right?" she said, her voice low, almost a hiss. "I've held up my end. Now it's your turn to pay up."
I didn't say a word. Instead, I turned back to the car, yanked the duffel bag from the passenger seat, and tossed it at her feet with a heavy thud. The zipper was slightly open, revealing stacks of crisp green bills, bundled tight.
"One hundred grand, just like we agreed," I muttered, watching her face for a reaction.
Mary crouched down, running a hand over the cash, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Perfect. I'll make sure no one comes sniffing around. As far as anyone's concerned, she's a ghost. So am I, once I'm out of here." She stood, slinging the bag over her shoulder. "The tools you wanted are inside. Let me help you get her in."
She followed me to the trunk of my car, Mary let out a low whistle as I popped the trunk where Sara laid in, still out cold from earlier. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her face pale and smeared with dirt.
"Damn, I underestimated you," she said, her tone laced with something close to admiration. "Didn't think you had it in you."
I clicked my tongue, irritation flaring. "Just help me with her. She reeks like piss and sweat." I grabbed Sara's arms, rough and ungentle, while Mary took her legs. Together, we hauled her dead weight out of the trunk and into the warehouse, the sound of our boots echoing in the cavernous space.
Old metal shelves lined the walls, rusted and empty, and the concrete floor was stained with god-knows-what. We dumped Sara into a rickety wooden chair in the center of the room, her head lolling to one side as I started binding her wrists and ankles with the coarse rope Mary had left for me.
"You've got it from here, yeah?" Mary asked, dusting off her hands like she'd just finished a casual chore. Her eyes darted to the door, clearly eager to bolt with her money.
I gave a curt nod, tightening the last knot around Sara's ankle. "Yeah, I'm good."
"Alright then. Good luck. And don't sweat the cops—you're untouchable as long as I'm alive." She shot me a final, hard look before turning on her heel and disappearing into the night, the bag of cash swinging at her side.
I stood there for a moment, staring down at Sara's unconscious form, the silence of the warehouse pressing in around me.
The tools Mary had left—a rusted toolbox full of blades, pliers, and worse—sat on a nearby crate, glinting faintly in the flickering overhead light. My pulse throbbed in my ears, a mix of dread and something uglier, something I couldn't name.
"Wake up, bitch," I snapped, delivering a sharp slap across her cheek. The sound echoed in the dim room, and somehow, it fucking worked. Like my hand carried a jolt of raw electricity, her eyes snapped open, wide and disoriented.
She stared at me, recognition flickering in her gaze, and I could see the hatred brewing behind her shock. Didn't matter. She thrashed against the ropes binding her wrists, her body jerking in panic.
Her screams ripped through the air, ragged and desperate, until her voice cracked from the strain. I leaned in close, my tone cold and flat. "No one can hear you here. No point in screaming."
She didn't stop at first, her cries echoing off the bare walls, until I slapped her again, harder this time. The sound of skin on skin cut through her noise, and she went silent, her chest heaving as she gulped for air. Her face was flushed, a red mark blooming where my hand had struck.
"You know who I am, don't you?" I asked, my voice low, almost a growl. She nodded slowly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, threatening to spill over any second.
"Do you understand why you're here?" Another nod, her lips trembling as she fought to hold herself together. I stepped closer, towering over her, letting the weight of my presence sink in. "Why? Why did you have to choose my Noah? My love. The one who was always meant to be mine."
Her voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper, as she stammered, "I-I... I've loved him since kindergarten. I just... I just wanted him to love me back..." Her words hit me like a punch, igniting a fire in my chest.
I wanted to end her right there, to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze until she couldn't utter another pathetic excuse. My fingers twitched at my sides, but I forced myself to breathe—slow, deep inhales through my nose, exhales through clenched teeth. I had to control myself, at least for now.
"You do understand what's gonna happen, don't you?" I said, my voice low and deliberate, letting the weight of my words settle over her. She looked down, her eyes squeezing shut as if she could block out reality. I stepped back, giving her a moment to process. She needed it, even if it wouldn't change a damn thing.
I walked to the side of her chair, my boots scuffing against the concrete floor. A machete rested against the rusted metal toolbox, its blade glinting faintly under the flickering overhead light.
I picked it up, testing its weight in my hand, running my thumb along the edge. It was sharp enough—good. I moved back to her, dragging the flat of the blade slowly against her thigh, pressing just hard enough to make her skin prickle.
She flinched, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips as her body tensed against the ropes. Her discomfort was palpable, and I savored it for a fleeting second.
"You know," I started, my tone almost conversational as I traced the cold steel over her skin, "I was planning to drag this out. Torture you. Make you feel every ounce of pain you've caused me. But honestly, you're not worth any more of my time."
Before she could react, I angled the machete and drew it swiftly across her throat in a single, precise motion.
Blood surged forth immediately, a hot, crimson wave spilling down her chest and soaking into her clothes. It pooled on the floor beneath her, spreading in a dark, glistening stain.
Her eyes widened in shock, a gurgling sound escaping her ruined throat as her hands twitched uselessly against the bindings. I pulled the blade back and struck again, driving it deep into her flesh with brutal force. And again. And again.
Each swing was fueled by a raw, unchecked rage, the sickening crunch of bone and tissue giving way under the steel echoing in the empty space.
Her head finally gave, detaching from her body with a wet, grotesque thud. It rolled a few inches across the blood-slick floor, coming to a stop with her lifeless eyes staring blankly at nothing.
Blood continued to seep from the severed neck, adding to the macabre puddle spreading beneath her headless slumped form.
My hands trembled as I lowered the machete, the blade now slick and dripping. My breath came in short, ragged bursts. I'd done it. I'd actually killed someone. Someone was dead because of me.
A shaky laugh bubbled up from my chest, sharp and unhinged, breaking the suffocating silence. She deserved it. Every fucking bit of it. She deserved to be nothing but a bloody mess on this cold, filthy floor.
"Are you happy now, Noah?" I screamed into the empty, blood-soaked room, my voice cracking with a wild, unhinged laugh that bounced off the grimy walls. "She's gone... she's fucking gone, Noah!"
My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees on the cold, sticky floor, the metallic stench of blood thick in the air. I sucked in deep, shuddering breaths, my chest heaving as I tried to pull myself together.
My hands were still trembling, smeared with crimson that had already started to dry in the creases of my knuckles. Fuck, who the hell was gonna clean this mess? No way I was touching it. I didn't have the stomach for that shit.
I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, my fingers slick and clumsy as I dialed Mary's number for the second time that day. The line clicked, and her familiar, no-nonsense voice came through.
"Hey, Mary, can you get someone to clean up this mess? I'll pay five grand for it, cash." There was a brief pause, probably her weighing if it was worth the hassle, before she grunted in agreement. "Fine. I'll send someone. Don't touch anything else." I muttered a quick thanks and hung up, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
With that sorted, I staggered to my feet and made for the exit, casting one last glance at the carnage behind me. The door creaked as I swung it shut, the heavy bolt sliding into place with a dull thunk. No one ever came around this decrepit shithole of a warehouse anyway, so I wasn't worried about anyone stumbling across it.
Outside, the night air hit my skin, cool and sharp, a stark contrast to the heat inside. I yanked off my blood-drenched shirt and pants, the fabric stiff and tacky against my skin, and tossed them into a haphazard pile on the cracked pavement. Digging into the pants for the lighter I always carried, I flicked it on, the tiny flame dancing in the dark.
I touched it to the edge of the shirt, watching as the fire caught, licking greedily at the stained cotton and denim. The smell of burning fabric mingled with the faint coppery tang still clinging to me as the flames grew, consuming the evidence bit by bit.
I stood there, mesmerized, until the fire dwindled to embers and finally dissipated into ash, scattering in the faint breeze.
Now I was standing in just my underwear, the night air prickling my exposed skin. I glanced around at the desolate lot, surrounded by rusted fences and overgrown weeds. Fuck it, no one could see me out here anyway. The darkness was my cover, and for the first time since I'd swung that machete, a twisted sense of calm settled over me.
"Noah..." I muttered under my breath, the name a bitter whisper as I slid into the driver's seat of my car. I slammed the door shut, the sound a dull thud in the quiet night, and gunned the engine.
Tires screeched against the asphalt as I sped off, the urgency to see him—to be near him—burning in my chest. But fuck, I stank of blood and sweat. I needed a shower bad before I could even think of touching him.
It wasn't long before I pulled up to the house, the familiar outline of the building barely visible under the faint streetlights. I killed the engine and hopped out, moving fast, my boots thumping on the driveway as I fumbled with the keys and slipped inside. The house was dark, silent, no sign of Noah awake.
I crept through the living room, my pulse still racing from everything, until I reached my bedroom. There he was, curled up on our bed, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut.
His head snapped up as I stepped into the room, his tear-streaked face catching the dim light from the hallway. His eyes lit up with a desperate hope, he got up and reached out for me, arms trembling. "Babe..." he choked out, voice raw. But I pulled back, even though it fucking tore me apart to do it. I couldn't let him touch me like this, not yet.
"Let me shower first, baby," I muttered, my voice softer than I meant it to be. I grabbed a towel from the drawer beside him, brushing past his outstretched hands, and headed straight for the bathroom.
I shut the door behind me, the click of the lock sounding louder than it should have in the quiet. Stripping off the last of my clothes, I stepped into the shower and turned the water on full blast, scorching hot. The stream hit my skin, and I watched as the blood—her blood—swirled down the drain in rusty streaks.
I grabbed the soap and scrubbed hard, digging into every crevice, every stain, until my skin felt raw and the metallic tang was replaced by the sharp, clean scent of soap. I needed to wash away the evidence, the memory, everything, before I could face him again.
Soon I stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to my skin as I roughly dried myself with the towel. Water droplets lingered on my shoulders and arms, but I didn't care. I was clean enough.
As I opened the bathroom door, there stood Noah, right in the hallway, his eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with the dried tracks of tears. His gaze was heavy, a mix of relief and something darker, something haunted. I let the towel slip from my grip, dropping to the floor with a soft thud. I didn't bother covering up—let him see me as I was.
He surged forward, wrapping his arms around me in a hug so tight it almost hurt. His face pressed into my bare breasts, and I could feel the warmth of his tears soaking into my skin as he sobbed, his body trembling against mine.
"I was so scared, Elara... I know what you did. I know..." His voice broke, muffled against me, but the words cut sharp and deep.
I slid my hands up to his face, gripping his jaw gently but firmly, pulling him back so I could look straight into those watery, tormented eyes.
Without a word, I crushed my lips against his, pouring every ounce of raw, messy emotion into the kiss—anger, need, possession. His mouth yielded to mine, tasting of salt and desperation, and for a moment, nothing else existed.
Pulling away just enough to speak, I murmured against his lips, "Let's go to bed, baby. Mommy wants to sleep right now, we'll talk about this tomorrow okay?..."
He nodded weakly, still clinging to me as we stumbled toward the bedroom together. We collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, the mattress dipping under our weight.
I rolled on top of him for a second, pressing one last lingering kiss to his mouth, slow and deliberate, before sliding off to lie beside him.
His head nestled in between my breasts, his breath uneven but calming as I stared at the ceiling, the exhaustion of the night finally pulling me under.
We drifted into rest, wrapped in the heavy silence of everything unspoken.
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I’ll be taking a short break, I’ll upload sooner than you expect.