Stiles collapsed against Derek’s chest after their last orgasm, her body spent and trembling, pussy still clenching around his softening cock. The room was thick with the scent of sex—sweat, cum, and tears. Jackson lay slumped on the floor, groaning faintly from the beating, his face bruised and bloody, eyes half-closed in pain and defeat. Derek held Stiles close, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re free now, baby… but I’m not done yet. He needs to see it all—one last time.”

Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide but trusting. “Derek… what do you mean?”