C ON TEN TS
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Trigger Warning:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Available Bella J Books
About the Author
Copyright ©2021 by Bella J
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner
whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual living or dead person,
businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Editor: Lori Whitwam
Cover Design: CT Cover Creations
Formatting: Pink Elephant Designs
PR Services: HEA PR.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Devil’s Vengeance is book 2 in the Vows and Vengeance duet and
should be read after book 1, The Devil’s Vow.
If you haven’t read book 1, you can grab your copy here.
T R I G G E R WA R N I N G :
The Devil’s Vengeance is a dark romance that contains scenes of abuse,
violence and sexual situations that may be triggers for sensitive readers.
You have been warned.
This one is for my bitches. You know who you are.
Thank you for standing by me, and for talking me off the ledge a hundred and
six times. Thank you for not allowing me to quit on these characters. Thank
you for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.
And most importantly…thank you for always telling me when I’m being
completely full of shit.
I love you bitches!
Prologue
The pain took over.
It would start with a warmth, a warning of what was to come. It wouldn’t
be long before it turned hot, taunting me with flames that would engulf me
right before the searing ache reminded me I was in hell.
Yesterday I fought.
Today I surrendered.
There was only so much one’s mind could take before it shattered.
Maybe tomorrow I’d be able to fight again.
Maybe tomorrow I would have the strength to spar with the devil once
more.
Maybe tomorrow I would not wake up.
Maybe tomorrow I would be free.
So many maybes, yet there would ultimately be only one outcome.
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the ache in my shoulders. My
muscles burned from the strain of having my wrists tied to my ankles, my
face planted against the filthy sheets. It smelled like sex and lust, the semen
stains smeared with blood.
He liked making me bleed. Loved the sound of my screams. But today I
didn’t have the energy to make a sound. I hardly had the strength to breathe.
All I could do was remain still while he fucked me from behind, sliding in
and out of me like he was invited. But he wasn’t. He was never welcome
inside me.
My tears soaked through the sheets, the damp fabric rubbing against my
cheek with every thrust. Even though my mind was lost, I could still hear
him.
“Fucking you gets better and better.”
“Seeing you bleed makes me hard.”
“God, your cunt is begging me to come inside you.”
“You’re my filthy whore now.”
“I’ll make you break for me every day for the rest of your life.”
“Only me. Only I can love you.”
“I’ll fuck you until there’s nothing left of him inside you.”
Gian. My husband. The man I longed for every time I closed my eyes.
How poetic it was the way our palpable hate bloomed into a passionate love
—a love that filled me to a point where I thought I’d burst.
But I should have known better. I should have known nothing that felt so
good, so real, would ever last for someone like me. Someone who had been
born merely to be traded. I wasn’t born to find happiness. I wasn’t born to
live a life of smiles and laughter, and it was because of my fate that I knew I
had to protect hers.
Alessa. My baby sister.
But I failed, and now I was paying the price by having my humanity
stripped from me in the most violent way. Over, and over, and over again.
Through the haze of defeat, I felt him violate me with the devil’s lust. His
nails clawed at my flesh, his cock hard and merciless.
Was it days? Weeks? Months? Years? I lost my grip on reality, and time
was stolen from me. If it weren’t for the memories, I’d never have believed I
had a life before this. Before him. His possession was absolute, his cruelty
unyielding. And I knew he would not stop until he had taken every drop of
my existence.
While the rope gnawed at the flesh around my ankles, slicing through the
skin of my wrists, I forced myself to breathe, to let the oxygen fill my lungs
so I could live to fight another day.
Tomorrow.
Maybe.
Chapter One
“Where the fuck is she?” My voice slammed violently against the roof, rage
exploding from my chest as I swept my arms across the bar counter, glass
shattering as it hit the tiled floor. The entire dining room smelled like
bourbon. I smelled like bourbon. At first, alcohol was the only thing that
made it possible for me to hold on to the last shred of control I had, but it
seemed like even that wasn’t working anymore.
Irina stared at her phone, her face pale and eyes lacking the usual selfconfidence that permanently radiated from the color. “I don’t get it. There is
absolutely no trace of Daniela. Gian,” she looked up at me, “we don’t even
have a starting point. We have nothing to go on.”
I clenched my jaw. “How in the name of Jesus Christ is that even
possible? We’ve been able to find women who have been missing for years,
girls who vanished without a trace. Yet we’re unable to find my goddamn
wife?”
She pulled her fingers through her blonde hair, sitting back in her seat,
looking as defeated as I felt. “I don’t know how it’s possible. Hunter has used
every contact, pulled in every favor, and he came up with nothing.”
“Jesus!” I grabbed the back of a barstool and hurled it across the floor, the
crack of wood resonating through the dining room as it broke into pieces on
impact.
“I take it you haven’t found my daughter yet?”
I looked up at Emilio Moretti, standing in the archway with his shoulders
squared and his arrogance taunting me from a few feet away. The man was
the equivalent of the antichrist. The only difference was the antichrist
probably cared more for his devil spawn than Emilio did for his daughter. It
had been days since she disappeared, and the man hadn’t done shit to try to
find her.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat at the dining table,
stretching his arm out and tapping a finger on the mahogany wood surface.
“You’re not any closer to finding her than you were yesterday, are you?”
“At least I’ve been looking for her. I don’t see you sending out search
parties.”
“I’m using every resource at my disposal.”
“Bullshit.” I placed my palms on the table and leaned forward. “You
don’t give a flying fuck whether we find Daniela or not. As long as her
disappearance doesn’t jeopardize the arrangement you have with my father,
you couldn’t care less whether your own flesh and blood is lying in a ditch
somewhere, rotting.”
His lips pulled in a thin line, and for a moment, I imagined his bleeding
skull cracked against my dining table, his blood seeping through the wood,
dripping on the tiles, and staining the grout.
“Get out of my house.” I seethed, deciding that his absence here was the
safest for both of us. The last thing we needed right now was the death of
Emilio Moretti by my hand.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Get out of my goddamn house!”
“I will do no such thing, as this is my daughter’s house, too.”
“A daughter you had no problem trading like cattle.”
“Says the one who happily sealed the trade by marrying her.”
I balled my fists and narrowed my eyes while I glared holes into his
motherfucking forehead. Besides finding Daniela, nothing would make me as
happy as the moment I’d finally be able to gut this bastard from nose to
fucking navel. My hate for Emilio Moretti only grew stronger, thicker with
every passing second spent in his presence. The man was a menace, a
goddamn leech who built his empire by piggybacking off the money and
depravities of others.
My fists balled, every muscle in my body begging me to tear this fucking
man apart. “You seem well-rested for a man who has a missing daughter.”
“At least I know how to get a grip on myself in a time of crisis.”
“I see you two are finally getting along.” My father came walking in, his
presence demanding that I tear my attention from the fucker who sat before
me.
Roughing my hand through my hair, I straightened and balked when
Darion came strolling in behind my father.
“And where the fuck have you been?” I snapped at him, my anger now
aimed at my brother. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days.”
“I’m sorry.” He approached me, his eyes filled with worry. “Dad finally
managed to reach me, and I came as soon as I could.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“Gian,” my father interrupted, “your anger and hostility won’t make us
find Daniela any sooner, son.”
I narrowed my eyes, gaze locked on my brother. “You’re right,” I
sneered, “it’s not like Darion would have been able to contribute anything
toward finding my wife.” It was a snide insult meant to scrape at my
brother’s overgrown ego, the rage inside me desperate to be let loose—
whether the target was my conveniently absent brother or my sick son of a
bitch father-in-law.
I turned my back on Darion and faced my father, sweeping another hand
through my disheveled hair. “There’s still no trace of her.”
My father stepped over the broken glass on the floor, the frown on his
face showcasing his disapproval. Luckily, I was beyond the point of giving a
fuck.
He reached for the one full bottle of bourbon that was left on the bar. “We
have eyes and ears everywhere. It will only be a matter of time before we find
some clue as to where Daniela is.”
I snorted and shrugged. “You’re making it sound like my wife merely got
misplaced somewhere.”
He glanced my way, pouring himself a glass. “That’s not what I’m
implying.”
“What are you implying, exactly?”
“All I’m saying is that everyone is assuming that someone took Daniela.
Is it not possible that—oh, I don’t know, the girl ran away?”
“Jesus Christ. Is the fact that we found her sister with a bullet in her
goddamn back not evidence enough that Daniela was kidnapped?”
“How is she?” Darion chimed in from the side. “Alessa. How is she? Dad
said she survived the shooting.”
“Barely.”
“Surely she saw something?” Darion continued.
“She probably did. But since she’s in a fucking medically induced coma,
she isn’t talking to anyone.” I started pacing as I pulled my phone from my
pants pocket, checking to make sure I didn’t miss a call from the hospital.
They had explicit instructions to let me know if and when they decided to
wake her up. No one was allowed to speak to her—not even the goddamn
police—before I did. I ensured that every police officer on our payroll was
assigned to Alessa’s case, so I had access to every ounce of information they
gathered. But up until now, their luck was just as bad as ours.
“Well, that’s easy, then.” Darion took a seat next to Emilio. “Tell the
doctors to wake her up so she can talk.”
A low rumble of a mocking laugh escaped my mouth. “You say that as if
I didn’t already threaten every goddamn doctor, nurse, and their extended
motherfucking families to get them to wake her the fuck up.” Frustration spat
from my mouth, every word laced with animosity toward everyone in close
goddamn proximity. I exhaled and rubbed the back of my neck. “But even
after threatening everyone and the goddamn Pope, they informed me that
even if they had to wake Alessa up, there’s no way of telling in what
condition she’d be and if she’d be able to tell us anything.”
“Okay,” Darion responded coolly. “So, what do the doctors have to say
about her condition?”
Irina got up and walked toward the table, heels clicking across the tiles.
“Alessa is stable. But the damage to her spine was severe, and the bullet
punctured both her spleen and lung. She had extensive surgery to repair the
damage.”
I cursed under my breath. “That’s why they are keeping her sedated, for
now, to allow her body to heal.”
“With some prayers,” Emilio cleared his throat, “we have faith that there
won’t be brain damage or paralysis.”
I turned to stand in front of the window, staring out. The garden taunted
me. It mocked me ever since I realized Daniela was missing. Every plant and
tree she had ordered before her disappearance remained unplanted. We had
planned to work in the garden the next day after the party, so I had refused to
touch them. Not without her. Not until I had her back.
“Alessa has to pull through,” I muttered under my breath. “Right now,
she is the only one who might know what the fuck happened.”
“If she can remember.”
I glared at Darion over my shoulder, the grim expression on his face
reminding me of how I didn’t care about Alessa and her health. The only
reason I cared for her to pull through this was for the sole selfish reason of
finding my wife. Any man who had a shred of good inside him would feel
just a speck of sympathy for the girl—but not me. I wanted her alive to find
Daniela.
My father and Emilio were in deep conversation when Darion stepped in
next to me, staring out the same window. “She sure has a great love for
flowers, doesn’t she?”
“Do not pretend like you know her.”
“I know her about as well as you do, brother.”
“No, you don’t. All you had was this weird friendship—if you can call it
that.”
“So, are you saying because I didn’t sleep with Daniela, I don’t know
her?”
I scoffed and turned to face him. “Since you put it that way, I guess the
better way to say it is,” I took a step closer, “you’re alive today because you
didn’t sleep with her.”
“Oh, my God,” he muttered, placing his hands in his pants pocket.
“You’re still intimidated by me.”
I recoiled. “What?”
“Even though I left—”
“You fucking disappeared.”
“Whatever. The bottom line is, I left. I left because I knew you didn’t
want me around. You didn’t approve of my friendship with Daniela.”
“Because I know whatever you’re feeling for my wife doesn’t stop at just
friendship.”
Darion pulled his lips in a straight line, his eyes drowning in guilt. He
didn’t even attempt to deny it. My little brother just stood there saying
nothing, not even a single motherfucking word to dispute my allegation of
him lusting after my wife. The fact that he remained silent was like rubbing
sandpaper over an open sore, aggravating the ire that already threatened to
burn me alive from the inside out.
I took an intimidating step toward him, practically feeling the tension
claw at my skin. “I know you’ve had a thing for Daniela since we were
fucking teenagers. Do you think I didn’t notice the way you stared at her
from across a room full of guests? The way you always sought her out,
making sure you’re close to wherever she was?” I cocked my head to the
side. “Maybe it was you.”
“What?”
“Maybe you took her, shot Alessa in the goddamn back, and took my
wife.” I shrugged. “Your crush on my wife gives you motive, and it would
explain why you so conveniently disappeared off the face of the
motherfucking planet.”
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that? So, I had a little crush on the
Moretti girl when I was younger. So what? We were all young, and Daniela
—”
“Was beautiful,” I exclaimed. “Striking. A kind of beauty that demanded
the attention of everyone around her.”
“Yeah.” Darion stepped up close, his eyes level with mine. “And yet you
still hated her, determined to make her life a living hell ever since she walked
down that fucking aisle.”
“Don’t—”
“I’m surprised you’re not relieved, brother. We all know how much you
despised your wife. Hell, maybe you’re the one behind her disappearance
since you too had motive to get rid of her. To get rid of the Moretti bitch our
father saddled you with.”
It happened so fast I didn’t even fucking blink. Anger erupted, and my
mind exploded into fragments of red as I swung my arm and slammed my fist
against his jaw, sending him staggering to the side. Punching him in the face
once did nothing to tame my rage. All it did was fuel it. Entice it. Made me
want to go on a murderous rampage and fuck up the entire city until I found
my wife.
“Gian, get a goddamn grip,” my father called from behind me, Emilio
remaining unmoved in his seat with nothing but an ugly motherfucking smirk
on his face as if the entire situation amused him.
Darion wiped at his bleeding lip, and I was ready for his retaliation,
widening my stance, wanting him to come at me, so I had an excuse to punch
him again. But he merely glanced at the blood on the top of his hand before
cutting his glance in my direction as he righted himself, straightening his suit
jacket. “On second thought, maybe your wife decided to run away from her
sadistic husband. God knows I wouldn’t blame her if she did.”
I cursed under my breath as I watched him stomp out, the atmosphere
toxic and threatening to smother every one of us in the room.
“Is that possible?” My father rounded the bar. “Is it possible that Daniela
might have run away?”
The thought was so fucking ridiculous, I had to laugh. “Are you serious?
Alessa got shot, and you’re thinking that Daniela running away, leaving her
sister to die, is an option?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been around long enough to know that people are
capable of doing things you could never have imagined them do, son.”
I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth. “Not Daniela. She would never
leave her sister behind, injured.” I snapped my gaze in Emilio’s direction.
“Her sister means everything to her. She sacrificed her happiness to make
sure Alessa could live a life free of their father’s manipulation.”
Emilio’s expression fell, his nostrils flaring as he realized I knew all too
well about how he blackmailed his oldest daughter by threatening her young
sister. God knew this man had a special place in hell prepared for him, a
place I’d be sending him to one day.
One day real fucking soon.
Chapter Two
Freesias. It was the only flower that could make a room smell like spring in
the fall, and in springtime, nothing made an outdoor garden come to life like
the scent of this beautiful flower. Almost reminiscent of fresh fruit and
strawberries. The vibrant colors of yellow, purple, pink, and red truly made it
one of the most beautiful flowers to have in any garden once the first spring
morning broke.
The grass felt like velvet beneath my bare feet, the subtle breeze gently
weaving through my curls. It was going to be a beautiful day. One of those
days when I could get lost within the serene escape of the beauty nature had
to offer.
I craned my neck back and closed my eyes, loving how the early morning
sun kissed my cheeks. I wondered if this was what Heaven felt like. Calm.
Tranquil. There was nothing but this intense sense of peace inside me. Even
my thoughts were silent, the only sound that of my own heartbeat.
A deep breath settled in my lungs, and the warmth of the sun disappeared,
replaced with a shadow that brought with it a gust of wind that wrapped its
icy tentacles around my legs. The sound of my heartbeat was gone, racing
thoughts and the sense of impending doom taking its place. I could no longer
smell the freesias; instead, there was this pungent stench that filled my
nostrils and made my stomach turn. It was vile, disgusting, like blood, urine,
and burning despair.
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. Something was wrapped around
my head, and I was immersed in the darkness. Panic struck me like a
monsoon of destruction, its only intent to ruin and demolish, to break me
under its sheer force. Every bone in my body started aching, a crippling pain
that threatened to strangle me until taking a single breath felt like the claws of
death enclosed around my throat.
Everything was gone. The sunlight. The sweet scent of freesias. The feel
of lush grass beneath my toes. There was nothing. Just an empty hole that
grew bigger, darker, lonelier. God, the loneliness was the worst of it all. No
pain, no regret, no threatening shadow was as scary and debilitating as the
sense of being completely and utterly alone. There was no one around to see
how I struggled to breathe. No one to help me fight to survive so that I could
feel the sun once more and smell the flowers again. I was all alone, and all I
could think about was how afraid I was that I’d never feel a moment’s
happiness again. Afraid that I’d never know the power of a single smile.
Ever. Again.
I gasped, my lungs desperate for air as my heart pounded against my
ribcage, the struggle to breathe sending me to my knees. Instead of oxygen,
glass shards sliced down my throat, and I could taste my own blood—the
metallic tang of my lifeforce.
“Wake up, my pretty little plaything.” The whisper echoed around the
open space around me. “Did you miss me?”
It was dark, the garden I had strolled in seconds ago long vanished.
Thoughts, memories, every piece of the puzzle that formed my reality came
together and slammed into me like a wrecking ball, cracking my soul wide
open.
“There she is.”
That voice. It seemed like a lifetime ago when that voice brought me a
sense of comfort. Friendship. Now, it only instilled fear and caused the blood
in my veins to run cold.
Tears prickled my eyes as I mourned the loss of my dream and found
myself back here, back in the cage where I was nothing more than a starved
rat. How did I not see it? How did I not see through his warm smiles and kind
words? How did a man cast himself in so much light when every molecule of
his being was dipped in black?
An icy hand gripped my elbow and pulled me upright, yanking the
blindfold from my eyes. For a second, I hesitated, not wanting to open my
eyes. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want to see his familiar face and
stare into the eyes of deception.
“Look at me.”
I pressed my eyes shut, sucking on my bottom lip as I refused, but I had
no choice but to obey when he grabbed my chin and jerked my face toward
him.
“I said look at me!”
The moment my eyes opened and I looked at him, betrayal sliced through
me once again. “Darion,” I whispered, his name leaving a bitter aftertaste in
my mouth.
His wicked smile curved at the edges as he crouched in front of my open
cage. “We’ve been here for days, and every time I open this cage, you’re like
a vicious feline ready to go at my throat. Yet today, you are,” he turned my
face from left to right as he studied me, “almost defeated.”
Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn’t find my words. The dream I had was
so vivid, so real, and now that I’d woken up to find it wasn’t, it was like I got
thrown in this cage for the very first time.
“What’s the matter, schiava?” He tilted his head to the side. “Did last
night take its toll on you?”
A shudder wracked through me as the memories returned with a torment
worse than any pain. The whore. The blood. The smell of sex. And the sound
of flesh slapping against flesh while his vile groans reached the ceiling.
“You killed her.” My voice cracked, my throat hoarse from screaming.
“Who? The whore? No, dear Daniela. I didn’t kill Riana. It’s hard to find
a willing participant when one has—how can I put it—particular tastes.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is fucked-up.”
He smiled. “And there she is. My little fighter.”
“Fuck you.”
“Be careful, now. The last thing you want to do is make me hard.”
I bit my tongue, pressing my lips together, still struggling to come to
terms that the Darion I knew was nothing but a sharp-edged lie that tore
through my back.
I narrowed my eyes as I studied him. “What happened to your lip?”
“It’s just a little scrape.” Darion let go of my chin with a jerk and
straightened. “Guess who I saw today.”
I had to crane my neck to look at him, his crisp gray suit painting the
picture of sophistication and absolute control, of which both were just blatant
deception.
He slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the bed, the sheets still stained
with the whore’s blood. “I saw Gian today.”
I sucked in a breath at the mention of his name, my chest tightening with
longing. Gian. The man who hated me then stole my heart. The man whose
cold arms became the warmth I found comfort in every night. A warmth I’d
longed for ever since Darion kidnapped me.
“I’m assuming he’s the one to thank for your busted lip.”
“Don’t go around assuming shit,” he warned, his eyes cold and hard. It
seemed like the moment dragged on forever while his warning clung to the
air that slowly suffocated me, and I was only able to let out a breath when he
looked away.
“So, some interesting news.” He started to roll up his sleeves. “It seems
like you’re not the only fighter in your family. Alessa is still alive.”
My heart stopped, every inch of my skin prickling as it turned cold.
“Alessa?”
“Yeah. I was surprised myself.” He took a seat on the bed and leaned his
elbows on his knees, clutching his hands in front of him. “I should have
aimed better.”
Everything around me disappeared as I played the scene of her falling to
the ground, over and over inside my head. A part of me died then, and my
soul turned to nothing but traces of a rotting existence. It was the single most
horrific moment of my life. After that, I couldn’t comprehend the fact that
Darion—a man who supposedly was my friend—had kidnapped me because
my mind was too busy trying to understand what the hell happened and that
he had just shot my sister. I didn’t even try to put up a fight. It was only when
we got here, wherever here was, that my grief turned into hate. And my
hatred strengthened my fight.
Now Darion told me Alessa was alive, and no matter how much I wanted
to believe him, the man couldn’t be trusted. He was a sadistic creature, a
psychopath who thrived on the pain of others. And what hurt more than a
moment’s hope amid grief, only to have it stripped from you a second later?
“You’re lying,” I bit out.
“Believe me, I’m all for toying with you. But this is too disastrous to joke
about.”
I narrowed my eyes, not trusting the look of worry on his wicked face.
“What are you trying to do?” I whispered. “Haven’t you hurt me enough?
Am I not fucking broken enough for you, you have to lie about something
like this?”
“And there’s your answer.” He leaned back, black strands of hair falling
across his forehead. “Right now, I have nothing to gain by lying about
Alessa. But I’m pretty sure if…no, when I kill her for real this time, it’ll
break you beyond repair. That would be fun, don’t you think? To see if you’ll
still have that fight left in you after you thought your sister died, but in fact
she didn’t? And then she dies again.” His laugh was maniacal, a sickening
echo of joy found in evil intentions. The sound scratched against my spine,
and I had to swallow the bile that forced its way up my throat.
He wiped his palm down his face, his wicked laughter ending abruptly as
he focused his gaze on me. “Believe me, schiava, what I tell you is the truth.
Your sister lives.”
And there it was. The truth. Ever since he brought me here, I had seen
enough of his darkness to know when there was truth behind his dark brown
eyes.
It was there when he said he would never let me go.
It was there when he said that my fate was sealed with his.
And it was there when he said he’d break me, hurt me, and mold me into
his perfect little schiava.
It was true. Alessa was still alive.
My little sister was alive.
“Thank you, God,” I whispered, placing my palms against my face, no
longer trying to bite back tears because these were tears I wanted to cry.
Tears of relief. Tears that spilled from my heart. Tears that bled from my
soul. For a short time, I wasn’t in that cage. I was in the garden I had dreamt
about, with her, seeing her face and loving her smile.
“Faye, as in fairy?”
The wonder in her eyes as she stared at me, the way her entire face lit up
when she called me by my second name—it was one of the most precious
moments of my life. A memory I would cherish forever.
“She’s alive.” I wiped at my cheeks, the moisture clinging to my fingers.
“Alessa is alive.”
“Don’t get too excited, schiava. She’s not going to be alive for long.”
“What?” My heart leaped up my throat. “What are you saying?”
“Jesus Christ. You didn’t hear anything past Alessa is alive, did you?” He
got up and unbuttoned his shirt.
“Darion—”
“Alessa is alive, Daniela. That means she can talk. As soon as they wake
her up—"
“Wake her up?”
“They’re keeping her in a medically induced coma.” He tossed his shirt to
the ground and waved his hand in the air. “Some shit with her brain or
something. But my point is, if and when she wakes up, she’s going to tell my
brother what happened, and I can’t have that.”
I clambered to my knees and grabbed at the open door of the cage.
“Darion, please. Don’t hurt her. Not again.”
The smile on his face as he crossed his arms was that of pure amusement.
“God, you’re beautiful when you beg.”
“Darion, please.” I got onto my knees, not caring that the broken skin on
my legs ached with the movement.
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, schiava, but I can’t let your little sister live.”
“Please!” I crawled out of the cage, newfound desperation fueling me. I
didn’t care that my palms and knees burned from the hard pressure. I didn’t
care that every muscle throbbed, and my entire body hurt. All I cared about
was that my little sister was alive. For the first time since this nightmare
started, I felt hope—not to be saved, but hope that not all was lost. “Please,” I
continued to beg. “Please don’t hurt her again.”
My mind was reeling from the revelation that I no longer had to mourn.
My sister was still alive, which meant my withered heart still had a sliver of
color left in it.
I stilled in front of him, tears slipping down my face. “Please, Darion.
Please. I’ll do anything.” On my knees and at my most vulnerable, I begged
him with my words and pleaded with my heart. I couldn’t stomach the
thought of him hurting her again. I’d rather walk through hell and let the
flames engulf me for eternity than have this sick bastard harm Alessa again.
Not again.
He crouched in front of me, a shudder wracking through my body as he
placed his cold palm against my cheek. “It’s already arranged, schiava.
Alessa will be dead by morning.”
“No. Please, God, no. Darion,” I whimpered and placed my head against
his thigh, bowing before him as I begged. “Don’t hurt her, please. I swear to
God I will do anything you ask of me. I won’t ever fight you again.
Anything, please.”
I sucked in a breath when I felt his palm against my neck, fingers
weaving through my hair. “Anything?”
“Anything.” I buried my face deeper against him. “I swear, anything.”
“You know, there is this one thing I’ve wanted ever since I first laid eyes
on you.”
“Anything.” Tears lapped over my lips, the familiar salty taste spreading
across my tongue. “I swear. I’ll do anything.”
I never thought it possible for the devil’s eyes to turn darker, but they did.
Molten obsidian beamed as black intentions rippled in his irises. My willing
surrender had now become my captor’s playground.
Chapter Three
He cocked his head to the side, studying me with the lustful gaze I had come
to dread. My bones were nothing but ice, the cold terror grasping my throat,
squeezing the air from my lungs.
Darion brought his thumb to my mouth, his touch bitter and vile. “I’ve
always wondered what it would feel like to have these beautiful, plump, rosy
lips around my cock.”
My body trembled as disgust rippled through every bone.
“And you’ve been fighting me tooth and nail ever since we got here, so
up until now, I haven’t been sure you’d play nice.” He winked. “If you know
what I mean?”
Of course, I did. He knew as well as I did that I’d bite his dick off the
second he put it in my mouth—the only thing he wasn’t able to control with
whips and chains. And ball gags wouldn’t make it possible either.
“Are you picking up what I’m putting down, schiava?” The pad of his
thumb clung to my bottom lip as he gently tucked it downward. “Suck my
dick. Swallow my cum, and I’ll consider letting your sister live.”
“Okay.” There was no hesitation. None whatsoever. All that mattered was
Alessa and doing everything I could to keep her safe. “I’ll do it.”
“And you’ll play nice?”
I nodded.
“If you so much as nip at my dick, I’ll finish your sister myself. You feel
me?”
“I won’t.” I shook my head. “I swear.”
The grin on his face widened—a demon smirk. “I must say, desperation
suits you, Daniela.”
God, I hated it. I hated that within minutes he had managed to gain so
much control over me. Not just my body, but now my mind as well.
Swallowing hard, my body shaking, I watched as he straightened before
me, unbuckling his belt, the sound of his zipper scraping down my spine.
So many times he had used me. Hurt me. Taking me against my will in
ways I never could have imagined. But never had it felt so debilitating as it
did now—my desperation colliding with his sickness.
For a second, I closed my eyes as Darion crouched behind me, pulling my
hands together. My heart hammered behind my ribs as I felt the familiar pain
of cable-ties being pulled tight around my wrists, biting into my flesh.
With a gentle sweep, he brushed my hair behind my shoulder, leaning
into my ear. “Have you sucked my brother’s cock? Do you know what cum
tastes like?”
I wanted to scream at him and tell him to go to hell, claw out his eyes
before driving a knife through his heart. But he held the most powerful trump
card, the card that would guarantee my submission. My obedience. The same
card my father used to control me, to make me do his dirty bidding.
My father.
Darion.
They were both the same to me—both born from the womb of evil.
His lips brushed against my neck. “Well, have you?”
My mouth went dry. “Yes.”
Abruptly, he pulled at my hair, fire erupting across my scalp. “Wrong
answer. Has your time with me taught you nothing?” He pulled hard, my
neck craning back. “I don’t want to know about you and my brother. I don’t
want to know how he fucked you. How he tasted you while I sat with my
cock in my hand, thinking about you, about how it felt to be inside you. Even
if I ask, you fucking lie. Okay?” He raised his voice. “Do you understand?
Fucking lie to me.”
“I’m sorry.” My back ached. “I didn’t. I never—”
“Too late now.” He shoved me forward, face-first to the ground. The pain
that ricocheted from my cheekbone to my chin was nothing compared to my
need to do everything I could to keep him away from Alessa.
“Now,” he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me, forcing me forward as
he took a seat on the bed, positioning me between his thighs, “you better suck
my dick like you’ve never tasted one before. Understand me?”
“Yes.” My bottom lip quivered, tears trickling down my face, dripping
from my chin.
Bile pushed up my throat as he pulled his cock from his pants. The same
cock that violated me so many times, over and over again, filling me while I
cried out in agony.
He grabbed my chin and pushed his cold fingers into my skin, bringing
my face inches from his as he leaned closer. “If you even so much as think
about biting,” he lifted his other hand beside him, the glint of his gun
invoking a kind of fear I had grown accustomed to in this room, “I’ll put a
hole in your skull, and make sure you see Alessa down in hell after I slit her
throat.”
“God. I won’t,” I breathed, grabbing hold of all my strength. “I’ll do what
you ask, I swear.”
“Good.”
As he let go of my chin, he leaned back and placed the gun against my
skull. “Now, suck my cock like you mean it.”
It felt like the floor would give way from under me as my stomach grew
heavier, concrete filling my insides. For the first time since he brought me
here, I felt fear instead of hate, terror instead of loathing. I was so afraid of
what he would do—not to me, but her. And that was why I found myself on
my knees, about to do anything and everything this monster demanded from
me.
I closed my eyes, willing every thought of Alessa and Gian from my
mind. They shouldn’t be here with what I was about to do. I didn’t want them
here.
The cold steel of the gun against my temple wasn’t worth an ounce of
motivation. Thinking about my own demise did nothing to strengthen my
resolve. I didn’t care what happened to me. It was only them—Alessa and
Gian. No one else.
I licked my lips and pushed their memories from my mind as I leaned
down, Darion guiding his cock to my mouth.
Was this what hell felt like? Not so much the flames against flesh, but the
defeat that possessed my soul.
All I could do to stop myself from gagging was breathe deeply through
my nose as I tasted him on my tongue.
“Fuck,” he moaned as I wrapped my lips around his girth. “Jesus.” He
clawed his fingers through my hair. “Your mouth feels better than I
imagined.”
Tears flowed like a river as I broke down inside. Submitting, not fighting,
was the worst kind of torture.
His hips flexed. “Suck harder.”
I did as he demanded, every command crushing my soul even further into
the ground. The vile taste of his cock on my tongue had me swallowing to
keep myself from vomiting. With this, his moans grew louder, his hips
flexing faster.
“Use that tongue of yours, schiava.”
I whimpered as I obeyed, licking along his length, circling the head of his
dick. The urge to bite down was overwhelming—a feeling not even the kiss
of his gun could suppress. It was instinct, my survivor mode set on autopilot.
And I couldn’t even think of Alessa, so I could gather the strength to get
through this since this act was too disgusting to have her memory present
while I turned myself into Darion’s slave. His whore.
“That’s it. Eat my cock like you’re starved for it.” He pushed down hard,
forcing all of him into my mouth, the head of his penis pressing against the
back of my throat. I gagged, spit spilling from my mouth as I struggled to
breathe. My spine arched, every muscle tense as I dry heaved, my eyes
watering as snot clogged my nose. Even though my hands were tied, I still
struggled, my fight or flight mode taking control. I wanted to escape, but
there was nowhere to go. The burn of the ties slicing my wrists was a
reminder of that.
Darion leaned back just an inch, still holding the gun against my head, his
other hand clutching my hair and holding me down, making sure I couldn’t
go anywhere.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this very
moment.”
The urge to throw up became unbearable.
“With every woman who sucked me off, I’d imagine it was you, that it
was your blemished green eyes that stared at me while you tasted my lust on
your tongue.”
I pressed my eyes closed, his words, his voice, his taste, and everything
about him snaking around my soul, forcing the life out of me little by little.
Suffocating me. Killing me.
“My little Moretti slut.” His palm brushed against my scalp. “You like it,
don’t you? You like to be treated like a dirty whore.”
Harder, deeper, faster, he forced my head up and down while he fucked
my mouth.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” His voice slammed against the ceiling, and he
pulled the gun back, dropping his hand to the mattress behind him.
I wanted to die. I never wanted to take a single breath again. Darion
forced himself in and out of my mouth, so damn deep I gagged and choked
what felt like a hundred times. I could see it in my mind, how I would rather
take Darion’s gun in my mouth and pull the trigger than sit here and be
forced to suck him off.
But that wasn’t an option for me. It would never be. Alessa had to live.
She needed to. For her, for me. My life was already over, stolen by the
monster I was now determined to protect her from. And if that meant I had to
endure his cruelty for the rest of my life without any hope of escape by taking
my own life, then so be it.
Darion flexed one more time, deep and hard, before the horrid taste of his
cum exploded against the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, but it was too
much and poured out of the sides of my mouth.
From the dizziness that gripped me, I knew I was only moments away
from passing out. It would be a welcome reprieve, and I prayed it would
happen. I prayed to be taken from this moment. To die. To die a thousand
painful deaths right there and then if it meant escaping this hell.
Darion pulled me away from him, so hard I stumbled back, the remnants
of his pleasure still slipping down my chin.
I cried. I cried so hard it hurt. Everything inside me burned and ached
while his taste clung to every corner of my mouth. My stomach turned as I
fell to the side, curling my knees up, hands still tied behind my back.
“Now, that was fucking good.” The sound of victory rang in his voice.
“Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t good enough.”
I sucked in a breath. “Wha…what are you saying?”
His large frame cast a shadow as he towered over me, zipping up his
pants. “I’m saying that no blowjob will ever be worth the risk of keeping
your sister alive.” He leaned forward and grabbed my cheeks, puckering my
lips. “Just like you’re not willing to lose your sister, I’m not willing to lose
my brother.”
“No,” I whispered, everything inside me, my mind, my body, my soul
ruined, destroyed, demolished. “You lied.”
He pulled his lips together. “No, I didn’t. I said I’d consider it, and I did.”
He shrugged. “And now I made my decision.”
He let go of my face and straightened. “Make peace with it, Daniela.
Nothing can save you…or Alessa.”
“You bastard!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, the taste of his vile
cock clinging to the back of my throat. “You son of a bitch!”
Flames erupted across my cheek at the same time the violent crack ripped
through the air. I fell to the side, my palms burning as it hit the floor.
“Watch your tongue when you speak to me,” Darion seethed while I bit
through the tears of pain. “You will respect me, Daniela. And you will accept
your fate.”
I couldn’t stop it. A violent force slammed into my stomach, every
muscle pulled taut and my back arched as I heaved, my body expelling
Darion’s cum with a violent surge of bitter liquid pushing up my throat, out
of my mouth and through my nose. With every jerk of my body as I gagged
on my own vomit, I was sure my head would explode from the pressure that
hit like a twenty-pound hammer against my skull.
“You poor little thing,” Darion cooed with a mocking sneer. “That’s what
happens when you suck a real man’s cock. Your body can’t handle it.”
I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes, desperately trying to gain
control. “You can’t—” I swallowed hard.
“What’s that, now?”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, taking another deep breath
so my insides could settle. “If you kill her,” I pushed myself upright, settling
on my knees, “if you kill Alessa, I swear to God I will never stop, Darion.”
My legs trembled as I struggled to get up, forcing myself to stand on my feet
in front of him. Pain throbbed across my cheek, every muscle in my body
aching as I straightened to look him in the eye. I didn’t care that I was naked.
I didn’t give a fuck that he’d probably punish me for what he would consider
a bold move by standing before him. For the first time since this nightmare
started, I wasn’t on my knees in front of him—or tied, or gagged, or lying on
the floor crying out in agony.
With nothing but sheer determination, I drowned my fear by facing him.
“I will never stop fighting you. Do you understand that? Never. And when
the day comes that I’m no longer strong enough to fight you,” I squared my
shoulders, “I will kill myself, and you’ll lose your little Moretti slut. I vow
it.”
Seconds turned into eons as we stared at each other. Palpable hate that
emanated from my every pore collided with the cruel obsession that dripped
from his gaze.
I swallowed hard when he took a step closer and reached out, causing me
to shiver as he traced a single finger across my jaw. “God, you’re beautiful,
you know that?” He licked his lips. “Ever since the first time I saw you—
really saw you at your sixteenth birthday party. You remember that day?”
It felt like decades ago, the day my father forced me to celebrate my
birthday with people I didn’t even know. He labeled it the day he introduced
his firstborn daughter to the world. His world. But I knew there was more to
it than that. It was my sixteenth birthday and my father’s auction while I was
paraded like a show-horse, catching the eye of potential buyers for when the
day came when I’d be traded as part of a business agreement.
Darion touched the pad of his thumb against my lips. “You were the most
beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. With your striking red curls, fair skin, and a
smile so bright you lit the entire room. That was the day I knew I had to have
you. I had to make you mine.” He bit his lower lip, frowning as if in pain. “I
tried everything, you know? I knew your father would pick one of us—Gian
or me. So, I did all I could to impress both our fathers, but nothing helped.”
He let out a mocking laugh as he tore his gaze from mine, staring down at the
ground. “I even went so far as to kill an entire family for your father.
Husband. Mother.” He glanced back at me. “Child. A six-year-old boy.”
My chest tightened at the thought.
“I thought if I cleaned up one of your father’s messes, he would
appreciate me for who I was and realize I was worthy of your hand in
marriage. But he chose Gian, the Silvestro son who hated you when he could
have chosen me,” he cupped my cheek, “the Silvestro son who loved you for
years.”
For the first time since this nightmare started, something gentle flashed in
his eyes as he stared at me. There was less evil, less depravity, and more…
feeling. But it passed as quickly as it had appeared, the shadows on his face
painted with a sickness he had hidden so well from everyone.
“You see, schiava, your father left me no choice when he handed you
over to my brother. Kidnapping you was my last resort. I tried to build a
friendship with you—”
“You were my friend.”
“But I wanted more. Every second I spent with you, I watched you smile
while you were with me, and I hoped to God you would fall in love with me.”
His features hardened, his stare so cold it made me shudder. “But instead,
you fell in love with him. Even after he treated you so unkindly, after he hurt
you.” He closed his eyes and rolled his neck from side to side as if he tried to
keep the monster in him from unleashing. “Even after he was so cruel to you,
you still fell for him.” Malevolent eyes found mine once again, and I could
feel the chill of his glare slither across my skin. He grabbed my chin, fingers
biting into my jaw, the pain allowing a moan to pass my lips. “Do you see it,
Daniela? Do you see why I have you here locked in a cage? Why I’m forced
to hurt you, forced to make you cry?”
I wanted to break. I wanted to shatter right there and sob into the cold
floor beneath my feet, but I refused to give in to the fear. I refused to show
weakness.
Darion stepped up, his body inches from mine—the same body that had
taken me against my will so many times since the day he took me. And while
I showed nothing but the stone-cold façade that cloaked me at that moment,
on the inside, my veins quivered, and my heart raced.
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes nothing but wicked orbs of black.
“Because you are drawn to it, schiava. Pain. Hate. Sorrow. Heartbreak. It
seduces you, because why else would you have fallen for my brother so
quickly? So, you see, I’m merely giving you what you want. And one day,”
he cupped my cheek and wiped away a tear, “one day, you will love me…just
like you loved him.”
My bottom lip quivered as he leaned in, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“I swear it,” he whispered, and I closed my eyes as more tears streamed
down my face.
He straightened and wrapped his hand around my elbow. “Let’s get you
back in your cage. Oh, and one more thing,” he rubbed his chin and glanced
my way, “if the day comes when you feel obliged to take your own life, know
that I will mourn you, but I will find my comfort while I stare down at my
brother’s corpse.”
The cold of a winter’s night filled my insides, the sharp nails of dread
clawing at my skin, and I froze.
Darion smiled with nothing but victory radiating from him in waves of
terror. “Do you understand what I’m saying, schiava?” He touched my chin,
staring at me with a lover’s affection. “As long as you breathe, dear
Daniela…so does he.”
The threat was loud and clear, and once again, Darion had proven that he
had the upper hand, and no matter what I did, I would never win. I would
never be free of him. Not even in death.
Chapter Four
My father and Emilio had left. Thank God. One more minute with that
Moretti scum and I would have wiped the walls with his face. The man didn’t
give a shit about his daughter who had been kidnapped or about the one
fighting for her life in the hospital. One would never think he was on the
brink of losing both his children.
Fucker.
“Take a shower, Gian.” Irina leaned back in her seat. “You’re reeking of
despair.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me. Take a shower, freshen up, and sober up. Maybe then the
Gian Silvestro I know will come so we can figure this shit out together.”
“What the fuck are you insinuating?” I tapped my finger on the dining
table, my eyes narrowed.
“I’m saying that you have sulked long enough, had anger cloud your
judgment long enough. The Gian I know—the Gian everyone knows will
figure this out without needing to lose his shit.”
“I’m not losing my shit.”
“What do you call assaulting your brother, then?”
I glanced at my finger, still tapping on the wood. “Call it a mild case of
sibling rivalry.”
“Mild?” Irina scoffed. “I could see it in your eyes.”
“What exactly could you see?” I sat back, unable to hide my disinterest.
“You wanted to kill him.”
“I just wanted to kick his ass.”
“I’ve seen you kill before, Gian. I’ve seen you in that place before.” She
leaned her head to the side, her blue eyes studying me while she continued to
sit there, pretending to know me. “Why does your brother anger you?”
I got up, the chair skidding across the tiled floor. “Darion knows how to
rile me up.”
“Are you sure that’s all there is to it?”
“What the fuck is this? A psych session? Stop trying to analyze my every
move and help me find my wife.” I slammed my palm against the table,
frustration getting the better of me. Out of everyone in my life, Irina was the
one who knew me the best. She had seen me both at my best and at my worst
—which just happened to be today. That, and she was about the only woman
who dared to challenge me…until Daniela.
I straightened and pulled a hand through my hair. My eyes burned, my
temples ached, and my goddamn mouth felt like sandpaper. “I need another
drink.”
“No.” Irina shot up and slipped in front of me. “The last thing you need is
another drink.”
“Get out of my way.”
“I’m serious, Gian.”
“So am I. Get out of my fucking way so I can pour myself a drink.”
“No!”
“Irina!” In a fit of rage, I grabbed her arm, fingers squeezing into her
flesh. The anger was so fucking intense I could feel it swallow me up,
consuming me to a point where I no longer gave a fuck. And not giving a
fuck was dangerous ground for a man like me, especially now that I had
everything to lose.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I realized what I was doing,
and I let go of Irina as if she burned me. If I weren’t such a hardened bastard,
I would have given her an apology, but luckily, Irina knew not to expect one.
Her glare remained pinned on mine, and she didn’t back down an inch.
Woman was a goddamn chihuahua in a rottweiler’s world, but she had more
balls than most men I knew.
“We need to find your wife, and we can’t do that if you don’t pull your
shit together.”
I roughed my fingers through my hair and leaned back against the wall. “I
know. I just…all those missing girls, I’m used to feeling that need to save all
of them. But this,” I craned my neck and stared at the ceiling, “this feels so
fucking different. Like, I can’t fucking breathe, Irina.” I looked at her,
holding my hand at my throat. “Every minute, every second knowing she’s
out there, thinking of all the horrible things she might be going through,” I bit
my lip, “it’s fucking with my head. Thinking about another man touching her,
hurting her while she screams for help. And I’m not there to fucking help her.
I’m not there! Jesus!” I slammed my fist against the wall. My heart was
bleeding, and my insides were torn. There was this deep, all-consuming ache
inside me that I’d never felt before. Like I was drowning, my lungs desperate
for air, yet my soul refused to take a breath. For the first time in so long, I felt
the sting of unshed tears, how it prickled the back of my eyes as it threatened
to expose the only weakness I had ever known.
My love for Daniela.
“Gian,” Irina stepped closer, “we will find her.”
“How do we find her if we don’t have anything to go on? So far, there has
been no contact or clue that this is a ransom deal. It’s not an act of revenge. If
it were, whoever took her wouldn’t have kidnapped her. They would have
killed her and left her body for me to find. We have nothing. We don’t even
have a motive.”
“I’m sure if we dig deeper into Emilio’s garbage, we’ll find a few people
with a motive to fuck with his family.”
“No.” I shook my head. “This isn’t aimed at Emilio. If it were, he’d
know, and he wouldn’t be out and about doing house calls if it was. Fucking
coward.” I pushed myself off the wall. “Whoever took her wants to either get
back at me, which makes no sense since they left Alessa to die, and not
Daniela. Or it’s someone—”
“Someone who wants Daniela.”
Irina and I stared at each other as a piece of the puzzle clicked in place.
“This isn’t about you or her father, Gian. This is about her.”
“But who?” I started to pace as my mind reeled into a thousand different
directions at once. “Who did Daniela piss off so much that they’d go so far as
to kidnap her and attempt to murder Alessa?”
“I don’t know.” Irina glanced at the files on the table, files of every
person we’d fucked over by ruining their human trafficking empire. “Daniela
doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. I can’t think of anyone she’d anger that
much. What if it’s not someone with a vendetta against her, but rather
someone who took her because they want her?”
The wheels turned inside my head as I stopped pacing. “An admirer?”
Irina shrugged. “It could be. Daniela is a beautiful woman, Gian. And her
surname practically made her a celebrity in this community.”
“No. That can’t be it.” I pulled my palm down my face. “I dug up every
last piece of information I could get on her before we got married, as well as
those who were ever considered to be close to her. There was no one.
Besides, her father made sure no man could get close to her—at least not
close enough to form any kind of romantic entanglement.”
Irina’s heels clicked across the tiles as she slowly approached. “Are you
saying she’s never had any other boyfriends, lovers, anyone?”
I shrugged. “It’s only ever been me.”
The buzz of Irina’s phone vibrated on the dining table. I watched as she
turned and grabbed it before answering. “Hunter?”
Immediately, I straightened, a tiny sliver of hope causing my heart to beat
faster. Hunter Keaton was one of the best search and rescue guys on our
team. Together with his wife Scarlet, they knew everything there was to
know about every human trafficking syndicate we’d ever encountered.
“Are you sure?” Irina took a seat, leaning her elbow on the table as she
placed her hand against her forehead. “It has to be a mistake. No, Hunter. I’m
telling you, it’s impossible. I suggest you get more concrete proof before you
make such a bold accusation.”
I walked closer, eyes narrowed.
“No. Word of mouth is not proof enough. Call me when you’re one
hundred and fifty percent sure of this.”
She hung up, her face suddenly pale and eyes wide.
“What is it?”
The temperature around us dropped about ten degrees in two seconds
when I witnessed Irina’s usual stone expression become bleak.
“Irina,” I leaned down and placed my hands on the table across from her,
“what the fuck is going on?”
Worry lines formed grooves on her forehead as her eyes met mine. “We
found some information on the Jane Doe who died in your parking lot a few
weeks ago.”
I took a seat as memories of that night flooded back. Irina’s cries. The
girl’s limp body. God, it was nothing short of a nightmare as I tried to save
that girl’s life while her blood stained my driveway.
Someone had placed the dying girl in Irina’s trunk—a little gift meant to
rattle her. All our safe houses were compromised, and Irina had no choice but
to bring the girl here.
I did everything I could to save the girl while Daniela stood to the side
and watched. But at that moment, I didn’t care about anything other than
saving that girl. In the end, nothing worked, and I couldn’t save her. The
worst part was we never figured out who she was. Her name. Where she was
from. Not that it would have mattered since we wouldn’t have been able to
contact her family and tell them that she was dead. We couldn’t risk exposure
and unwanted attention. Besides—the girl was already dead. Nothing we did
could have changed that. But there were still hundreds, thousands of girls we
could save, and the only way to do that was to keep a low profile.
I pushed the memories aside and focused on Irina. “What is it?”
She pulled her fingers through her long golden hair. “Hunter got some
info off the streets that our Jane Doe worked as a prostitute downtown. The
last time anyone saw her, she drove off with a client.”
“Who was the client?”
Irina bit her lip, her jaw clenching as her eyes avoided making contact
with mine.
“Irina,” I blurted. “Tell me.”
“Darion.” She licked her lips. “The last time anyone saw her was when
she drove off with Darion.”
An eerie silence settled between us, like the world around us had been put
on mute. “No,” I muttered. “No. It can’t be Darion. He was here that night,
remember? He was outside with us when I gave the girl CPR.”
“Was he here the whole night?”
“I’m pretty sure, yes.”
“You’re pretty sure?”
“Irina,” I straightened, “it can’t be him. He barged into my room that
night saying you were on your way. Darion is a lot of things, but–”
“A sadist?”
It was right there in her eyes, the truth both of us knew about Darion.
With our ties in the underworld, we discovered Darion’s indiscretions as soon
as he started playing in the dark. My little brother had a wicked taste when it
came to sex and bathed in a sadistic man's perversions. It was one of the
reasons I wanted him to stay the fuck away from Daniela while he pranced
around here, pretending to want nothing from her but friendship. But I saw
through the smiles and innocent touches, the jokes, and laughter. My brother
wanted my wife in ways that would end with a civil war within the Silvestro
family, but he was smart enough to know he’d never survive my wrath if he
touched her.
Irina rounded the table and stopped a few feet from me. “You and I both
know this isn’t something most people can control. Not everyone has the selfcontrol you have, Gian.”
It was like a goddamn rope around my throat while my feet dangled ten
feet from the ground. Acknowledging that part of me, a piece I had kept
hidden from everyone except Irina, was hard. I’d preferred living without
ever thinking or talking about it, and it worked until Daniela walked through
my goddamn front door.
I pursed my lips and clenched my jaw as guilt filled my lungs and
threatened to drown me. “I had it under control.” I swallowed hard. “Until I
lost my hold on it one night. Just one fucking night, with Daniela. Jesus.” It
was something I’d never forgive myself for, the night I tied Daniela to my
bed and forced her to come. The night I made her witness the darkness that
lurked within me when I spilled my lust all over her naked thighs.
The weight of it all forced me to sit down, pulling both palms down my
face. It seemed like a decade ago that I hated Daniela with so much passion I
allowed control to slip from my grasp just to hurt her. To punish her. To
show her that I owned her. Now all I wanted was for her to be here where I
could protect her, so I could keep her safe.
“Gian.” Irina’s voice sliced through my thoughts. “Gian, what if this is
true? What if it was Darion?”
“Jesus, Irina, my brother might be a sadistic fucker, but he doesn’t have
the balls to do something like this. Besides, his entire life has been dedicated
to kissing our father’s ass. Doing something like this will just put him on our
family’s shit-list, which would be counterproductive toward his lifetime
goal.”
“But he’s had a thing for Daniela, right? That’s why you wanted to hand
him his ass on a silver fucking platter twenty minutes ago.”
“My brother is a dickhead who likes rough sex.”
“Rough sex?” Irina placed her hand on her hip, the black pencil skirt
accentuating the curve of her waist. “We found your brother in a room with a
girl hanging upside down from the goddamn ceiling with multiple cuts on her
thighs. That is not just rough sex, Gian.”
I shot up from my seat. “It’s not Darion, okay? Besides, if it was him,
what did he have to gain by murdering the prostitute and stuffing her body in
the trunk of your car?”
“I don’t know.” She threw her hand in the air. “God, I don’t know. But
you and I both know whenever there’s smoke, there’s a huge fucking fire
somewhere, and your brother’s name just got lodged in the middle of it.”
The throbbing in my temples grew more intense, and it felt like I was
seconds away from crawling out of my own goddamn skin. I needed quiet. I
needed some time with nothing but my thoughts.
And apparently, I needed a shower as well.
“Call Hunter, tell him to dig deeper.”
“How much deeper does he have to dig, Gian?”
“As fucking deep as he has to until we find her.” I brushed past Irina.
“I’m going to take a shower and just…cool down.”
I grabbed a glass and a bottle of bourbon and stomped out. There was no
need to look at Irina to know she was frowning at me with a disapproving
glare.
“Bourbon makes me cool down,” I said over my shoulder as I walked out
of the dining room.
“I didn’t say anything,” she called.
“You didn’t have to.”
Chapter Five
There were no more tears left in me to cry. All I could do was lie in my cage
and stare out in front of me. Was I even breathing? It didn’t feel like I was. I
couldn’t feel anything. Not even the cold from the floor could penetrate the
numbness in my bones.
I no longer tasted Darion’s cum on my tongue. It’s been replaced with
something bitter, like the bile of hell had been forced down my throat.
All my life, I had been a fighter.
I fought my father until the very last minute, right before I walked down
the aisle.
I fought Gian and his hatred of me right until he stole my heart.
I fought Darion while I thought my sister was dead, while he raped me
over and over again, whispering the vilest things any man could say to a
woman.
I fought.
I fucking fought.
But no more. For the first time in my life, I was defeated. Hopeless.
Completely and utterly alone.
I had something to fight for all these years—whether it was for my
freedom or the need to keep my little sister safe. Now there was nothing left.
Darion tore my soul from my body with every scratch, every whip, every
chain. Teeth marks still marred my skin where he’d bite into my flesh as he
poured his evil inside me. Bruises covered my body, and my soul had been
shredded. But finding out that Alessa was alive, only to know I would lose
her again, was more than I could handle. My mind shattered. It sucked the
last bit of strength I had left from the marrow of my bones and stripped me of
my existence.
I lost her twice. The little sister I swore to protect ever since the day I first
saw her, the little bundle of joy my mother brought home in her arms. Alessa
was the most beautiful doll I had ever seen, and I knew God had put me on
this Earth to take care of her. But I failed.
I failed.
There was nothing left of me—nothing but this cage I was locked in. It
didn’t even bother me anymore. The tiny, confined space no longer taunted
me, claustrophobia the furthest from my mind. For all I cared, it could close
in around me, break my bones, and swallow me whole. I wished that it
would. At least then I’d be free of this hell.
The door creaked open. It was a sound that had the power to instill the
fear of God in me. But not today. Today, I felt nothing, and I loved it.
“There she is.”
Bile crept up my throat when I heard his voice, and I sat up, glancing
behind me.
Darion smiled at me, the way he always did when he walked in here with
intentions that had nothing good in store for me. The man's face next to him
was cast in a shadow as they both stood by the door. All I could see was his
shiny dark shoes and the glint of a gold watch around his wrist.
“How is my pretty little plaything?”
“Did you kill her? Did you kill Alessa?”
His lips curled, and eyes narrowed. “How about I answer that question
tomorrow. Or the day after that.” He rubbed his chin. “Or maybe never.
Wouldn’t that be fun? Not knowing whether I killed Alessa or not?”
Exhaustion clung to my bones. “Just tell me.”
“Not today.” He walked over, and I imagined his heavy footsteps were
what the devil’s heartbeat sounded like.
“I brought someone to give you some much needed TLC.”
My heart thumped, and I refused to look at Darion as he approached the
cage. “Hans here has been tending to women in your position for years, so
he’s quite efficient at—how can I put it?—aftercare.”
He slipped the key from around his neck and unlocked the steel cage. I
didn’t move. Even if I had the energy, I still wouldn’t have wasted it on
trying to escape.
Hans stepped up behind Darion, his face now in full view. Middle-aged.
Maybe forty-five. Foreign, but not Italian. Dutch, possibly, judging by the
name.
“And don’t bother talking to Hans, pleading for help. The man’s mute
and doesn’t speak a word of English, which makes him perfect for this job,
don’t you think?” Darion smirked like a man who held every chess piece on
the board.
Everything was hazy, my mind nothing but fragments of distorted images
and thoughts. But I could still see the dark edges of his face and his wicked
features. The man I once thought of as a friend had been my enemy all along.
Darion went from friend to foe within a single moment. From angel to demon
with a single breath.
“So, play nice,” he said and crouched down so our eyes could meet. “Let
Hans take care of you.” He reached out and touched my cheek, an act that
would usually make me pull back and snarl like some wild animal. But not
today. Maybe tomorrow.
He leaned his head to the side, his eyes beaming with false admiration.
“You stole my heart with your beauty, Daniela. Even with that flawed iris of
yours, you’re still the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on. I’d be a fool
if I allowed you to lose your radiance. So, Hans will come by regularly to
make sure that you always look your best for me.”
Whether it was my broken mind or how ridiculous he sounded, there was
something so fucking insane about it all I had to laugh. It started deep inside
my chest, a soft titter that grew louder as it spread up my throat. I couldn’t
stop it, and the more I laughed, the more I could feel the hysteria take over.
Darion slanted a brow. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, my God. This is insane.” I placed a palm in front of my mouth as I
continued to laugh, every muscle in my stomach pulled tautly. “For fuck
knows how long, you’ve been hurting me, abusing me, raping me, and here
you’re bringing this man—Hans,” I said mockingly, “to take care of me? Can
you see the irony in that? Tell me you see the irony.”
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t hide how hysterically fucked-up it all was.
And I was just past the point of fucking caring, trying to keep my sanity
while he stripped me of everything else.
He kept staring at me with those hollow eyes, and I still laughed. “I’m
sorry,” I started, “of course you don’t see it because you’re a motherfucking
psychopath. Darion Silvestro, my husband’s psychopath brother, whose only
joy in the world is raping women and treating them like slaves. That’s what I
am to you, right? Schiava?”
My guess was this was the part where I cracked. The part where I lost
myself in this bottomless, never-ending pit of darkness. This was where I
bowed out of fucking reality and retreated into the shattered pieces of my
mind. Compartmentalize.
Darion grabbed my arm, his fingers pinching my flesh. He yanked me out
of the cage with force, and my face knocked against the hinge of the open
steel door, cutting my cheek. I felt the skin slice open, the warmth of blood
oozing out, but I didn’t feel pain. There was nothing. No burn, no sting, no
ache. Just…nothing.
“You listen to me.” He jerked me upright and wrapped both hands around
my upper arms, pulling me against him. “Just because I’ve confessed my
feelings for you doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”
“You’ve already hurt me.”
“No. I haven’t. Believe me, I haven’t even begun to hurt you.”
“Then do your worst, Darion,” I challenged. “What else can you do to me
that you haven’t already?”
“I’ll break you in so many ways, there will be nothing left of you.”
“You can’t break something that’s already broken.”
“You’re not broken.” He smirked. “I know you better than you know
yourself, Daniela. And you,” he gently tucked a red curl behind my ear, “my
pretty little plaything, are far from broken. But I’m hoping you’ll see the truth
soon.”
“What truth?”
“That I’m the one for you and not my brother. That I’m the man who was
born to love you.”
His words weren’t laced with the usual venom and cruelty. Maybe it was
the fact that I tipped over the metaphorical edge and allowed my mind to
drown, but it was almost as if his voice carried affection. As if he…cared.
But not even a state of delirium could convince me that this man before me
was anything more than a monster.
Through the haze, I stared him in the eye, leaning into his touch, smiling.
“If that’s true, and you are the one for me,” I pushed myself up on my toes,
my face inches from his, “then I’d claw my own heart out and feed it to the
rats in the streets.” I spat in his face, and he flinched as my hate clung to the
side of his nose and cheek.
Was that a stupid move? Probably.
Would I pay for it with blood? Definitely.
Did I give a fuck? Not in the slightest.
Like a flash of lightning, anger cracked across his features, and I could
practically hear the blood boiling in his veins as his eyes grew wide,
consumed with a darkness that could only come from the deepest pits of hell.
“Hans,” Darion bit out, “leave us.”
It was clear that Hans was used to how things worked in this world since
he didn’t hesitate for a second before he rushed out of the room, the slam of
the door the echo of my sealed fate. But I still felt nothing. Not even fear.
With a cruel hand, Darion wrapped his fingers tightly around my wrist
and brought my hand up to his face, all the while keeping his threatening
gaze pinned on mine. Slowly, he brushed my hand over his cheek, sweeping
my spit up with my own fingers.
His hold tightened as he moved my hand to my face. “Open your mouth.”
I refused by biting my bottom lip.
“I said open your motherfucking mouth.”
Again, I merely stared back at him, making no attempt to obey—another
sign that my grip on reality had faltered. I was no longer here or anywhere
else. I was trapped inside my own mind, and nothing would lure me out of it.
A menacing growl tore from his throat, and he grabbed my neck, forcing
me forward, down on the bed, still holding my wrist. I didn’t fight because I
no longer cared. When he got on top of me, straddling me, the fabric of his
expensive suit brushing against my naked waist, I merely let out a breath,
refusing to make another sound.
“You think you’re tough,” he started, holding my hand with my spit
clinging to my fingers. “But I’ll show you, even if it takes me a lifetime, I’ll
show you that you’re nothing.” With a violent jerk, he brought my hand
down between my legs, dragging my fingers through my slit, forcing my own
fingers inside me, spreading my spit. It was nasty. Vile. Cruel. And if he had
done this yesterday, I would have prayed for every bone in my body to break
rather than be violated like this. I would have begged for every tooth and nail
to be cracked and pulled rather than to endure this torture. But it wasn’t
yesterday. It was now. Today. And I was no longer in a place where any of
this mattered because I could compartmentalize. I could shut it off.
“This is what happens when you misbehave.” He forced my finger deeper
into me. “You pay for each transgression threefold.” With his other hand, he
started with his belt, the clink of the buckle a loud sound of impending doom.
Like a desperate man about to have his last fuck, he shoved his pants
down, his cock hard and ready to tear through me once again.
All the other times, I refused to look at him. I refused to watch him
through the tears that clouded my sight. But not today. Today was different
on so many levels. Today, I watched him. I watched as he lost patience with
his pants and the shirt that hung down his naked thighs.
I watched as he bit his bottom lip, his hair falling over his lust-filled eyes
that held no color—only black. He grabbed my knee and forced my legs
open, his cheeks flushed, every line on his face painting a picture of a man
who had nothing but evil inside him. A man who was about to lose himself to
the possession of everything fucking ugly.
“After this, we’ll be one fuck closer to erasing Gian from this sweet body
of yours.”
I sucked in a breath, the sound of Gian’s name causing a tiny sliver of
emotion to seep through the cracks in my mind.
No. No. No. I don’t want to feel. I won’t feel.
I glanced up at the ceiling as he settled between my legs. Again, if this
were yesterday, I would have clawed at his skin, slammed my fists into him,
kicking and screaming.
But not today.
Probably not tomorrow either.
“I don’t give a fuck how long it takes, Daniela Faye Moretti, but I
promise you the day will come that I’ll make you see how fucking lost you
are without me. That there is no other man for you but me.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath. I wondered if it would be possible
for me not to breathe while he was inside me, while he infected me from the
inside.
Low grunts filled the air around us. I’d been through this long enough to
know it would be over soon. He was too possessed, too out of control to
make this last—to extend the torture for as long as possible.
The silk felt like sand against my back with every thrust, my arms spread
out beside me—a lifeless body being crucified. But still, there was nothing—
nothing but a big hole of emptiness that lingered inside me.
By the time he was finished, I had opened my eyes but didn’t move. I just
lay there staring at the domed ceiling. “Silvestro,” I whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“My name.” I breathed out. “Daniela Faye…Silvestro.”
Any sane person would have argued that I had made the worst mistake,
that I had just instigated a round of Russian roulette with the devil—
something I had no chance at surviving.
And they’d be right.
Chapter Six
There was something soothing about the beep that infiltrated the silence. The
sound of life. The beat of Alessa’s heart. For me, it meant hope—hope that
she’d wake up and help me find Daniela.
The smell of disinfectant and bleach was intense, the white walls and bed
linen creating a morbid ambiance that could only be felt in a hospital room.
So many people associated the scent and the look with illness. Death. For me,
it was a reminder of everything that was at stake if Alessa didn’t wake up.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. There was no trace, and the only
lead we had was the prostitute last seen with Darion. That was another part of
the mystery I struggled to understand. If it were true, what did Darion have to
gain by killing the prostitute? And even if my sadistic brother did turn out to
be a murderer, did it have something to do with my wife’s disappearance?
God, we needed more. I needed to find someone I could fucking torture the
truth out of. But right now, my only hope was that Alessa would wake up and
tell me who the fuck took my wife.
A wife you didn’t even want.
A wife you treated like dirt.
A wife you stained with your cruelty.
A wife who fucking stole your heart.
While I sat there in the world’s most uncomfortable chair, watching
Alessa breathe through a tube, I silently dealt with the chaos inside my head.
My thoughts were at war, my insides on the verge of tearing apart. Even the
blood in my veins felt like it had reached the boiling point, about to fucking
explode. But there was nothing I could do to calm every emotion that went
apeshit inside me. Nurses walked in and out of the room, checking Alessa’s
vitals every half-hour, glancing at me—the man who remained unmoved in
the corner, just watching. Staring. Fucking praying.
Helplessness was a new feeling for me, and I hated it. I hated that I could
rescue hundreds of women, yet I was incapable of saving my own.
I closed my eyes, allowing a picture of her to fill my mind. Long, red
curls gently kissed by the evening breeze. Flawless skin caressed with
radiance while she strolled through the garden under the morning sun. And
those eyes—goddammit, those eyes were my fucking kryptonite. So damn
perfect with their imperfection. Plump, pink lips had the power to make me
forget about the hate while her smile disarmed me. And her kiss…dear God,
her kiss hypnotized me, turned me into a sinner who would willingly be
crucified for gluttony.
“Jesus,” I muttered to myself and stood from my seat, hating the way my
heart bled inside my chest.
I sauntered to the side of the bed, staring down at Alessa. If it weren’t for
the beep of the heart monitor, I’d be convinced there was no life pulsing
inside her.
It fucked with my head to think that my last shred of hope was tied to a
person who seemed so goddamn lifeless. There was no guarantee she’d ever
be able to give me what I needed to find Daniela.
I took a deep breath and gently touched her cold hand, a white bandage
keeping the IV needle in place. “I need to find her,” I whispered. “But I need
your help. I need you to help, Alessa. I can’t find her without you.”
Desperation clung to my every word, and my chest cracked open with
every breath.
“Help me find her.”
My phone vibrated in my pants pocket, and I slipped my palm down my
face, shaking the heaviness of the moment. I turned around and pulled out my
phone, Irina’s name flashing on the screen.
“Irina,” I answered.
“I’m sending you a pinned location. Meet me there as soon as possible.”
“What’s going on?”
“As soon as possible, Gian.” She hung up.
I glanced at the blank screen for a second before glancing over my
shoulder at Alessa. “You better wake up soon.”
Irina’s location sent me to the industrial part of town, an abandoned
warehouse, to be exact. I pulled up in front of the entrance and glanced up at
the rusty building. Most of its windows were shattered, the structure one
windstorm away from caving in.
Irina got out of her car just as I climbed out of mine.
“What’s going on?” I rolled up my shirt sleeves, the fact that the sun was
moments away from setting not doing a single fucking thing to lower the
temperature of the grueling heat.
“Hunter—”
“Right here.” The door of the warehouse creaked open, and Hunter came
walking out. The second I saw him, adrenaline blazed through my veins. “We
found something—or rather, someone.”
“Daniela?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but I have a feeling we’re about to.”
“Jesus Christ.” I rushed toward him, my stomach nothing but a coiled
mess of hope, dread, and desperation. “What the fuck is going on?”
Hunter pulled a hand through his blond, shoulder-length hair. Dressed in
a white t-shirt and torn denim jeans, the man gave “rough around the edges” a
whole new meaning.
“Follow me.” He turned without checking whether I’d follow. Was my
desperation that fucking obvious?
“What the hell?” I glanced at Irina as she fell into step next to me.
“Hunter found someone who claims to have information about Daniela.
But she refused to speak to anyone but you.”
“Fuck.” I rushed inside, and not even the darkness could keep me from
putting one foot in front of the other. The stuffy air and pungent stench of
dirty water and mold were overwhelming, but I didn’t give a shit if I had to
walk through flames and across needles if it meant finally getting closer to
finding Daniela.
We stepped from a long, dark, narrow hall into an open space that held
nothing but broken logs, bricks, and half torn-down walls.
I narrowed my eyes when I saw a woman standing in the middle, dressed
in a blue mini dress that appeared two sizes too small for the curves she
sported.
“Who are you?” By now, I had passed Hunter and stopped a few feet
away from the woman.
“No names.” She shook her head, her bleached hair falling over her
shoulders. “I told this man here,” she gestured to Hunter, “I stay anonymous,
I only speak to you, and after I’ve said what I came here to say, I want every
means necessary to make me disappear.”
I smirked and scoffed…right before I grabbed her by the throat and
pulled her closer. “I don’t give a fuck what you want. If you don’t start
talking right now, I’ll rip your goddamn tongue out.”
“Gian.” Irina’s voice echoed. “Calm down.”
“Talk,” I demanded, and the woman stared at me with wide eyes, panic
swirling around in those fake motherfucking turquoise eyes. Amazing what
contact lenses could do.
“I need your word that you’ll help me get out of town because if I tell you
what you want to know, I’ll be dead by morning.”
“Do not test my patience, woman.”
“Do not underestimate my will to survive, Silvestro. I refuse to end up
like Bethany.”
“Who the fuck is Bethany?” I let go of her, and she grabbed the base of
her neck.
“The girl who died in your driveway,” Hunter answered.
“She was my friend,” the woman continued, voice husky as she tried to
catch her breath. “And word on the street is she was murdered.”
“That’s terrible. You have my deepest sympathy,” I mocked, annoyance
grinding against my spine. “But if you don’t tell me why I’m here, you’ll be
joining Bethany real soon.”
“Yo, man,” Hunter stepped in, placing a hand on my shoulder, “give the
woman some space. Let her tell us what she knows.”
My nostrils flared, and I clenched my jaw. Hope was such a fucking
bitch. Here I was, standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, its
frame being kept together by grace alone—kind of like me at the moment.
The woman continued to rub her throat. “Your word,” she urged, and I
had to fight the need to strangle the information out of her.
“Fine.” I squared my shoulders. “We’ll have you out of town by morning
if the information you have is of use to me.”
She glanced at Hunter, and I caught him giving her a slight nod—a subtle
way of urging her to fucking talk. The man knew me well enough to know I
was on the verge of snapping this woman like a fucking twig.
She bit her bottom lip, drawing my attention to the cut in the corner of her
mouth. It made me study her closer, noticing the cuts and bruises she had on
her naked arms. Jesus, this woman looked like she had climbed out of hell on
her hands and knees.
Her unnaturally colored eyes found mine. “Your wife, she’s missing,
yeah?”
“Yes,” I hissed, my patience wearing thin.
Shifting from one leg to the other, she glanced around before looking at
me again. “I know where she is.”
My heart went off like a jackhammer against my chest. “I swear to God,
if you’re fucking with me, I’ll—”
“I know where she is. And I can take you to her.”
Chapter Seven
“Daniela!”
His voice. It sounded so real. Like he was right there, and I could simply
reach out and touch him.
“Daniela. Are you here?”
The sound was warm against the cold of my existence. I wanted it to be
him so badly, I imagined seeing him right there before me, touching my hair,
caressing my cheek. With every ache, the pain, every burn and cut, Gian
became clearer. His face. His touch. His presence. I felt it wrap around me, a
sheath of protection that soothed away the torment that clung to my skin.
“Darion, you motherfucker! Hunter, don’t let him get away. Daniela,
Jesus Christ.”
All I wanted to do was crawl toward it, the tenor and sound of his voice,
but chains kept me from moving. My back arched in the most awkward way,
a reminder that what I thought I was hearing wasn’t real. Nothing was real
except for the bottomless pit I had been imprisoned in.
There was no telling how long I had endured Darion’s wrath. I passed out
with my own screams ringing in my ears. The last thing I remembered was
having my wrists tied to my knees, hoisted up, dangling from the ceiling,
nestled within the weight of chains. The sound of steel chains complaining as
I swung back and forth from his every thrust was bloodcurdling and horrific
like a butcher saw cutting through bone. When he finally came, I felt every
jerk as he pulsed his vile poison inside me. I thought it was over then. I
thought he had done his worst. But I was wrong. So very wrong.
Darion pulled out of me, my body momentarily relieved from his
onslaught, only for it to be replaced with something cold, hard, and sharp. A
foreign object meant to inflict pain, to torture as it sliced me open from the
inside, the warmth of blood running down my waist, dripping on the floor
beneath me.
That was the moment something snapped, and I broke. That was the
moment he stole my identity from me. I was no longer Daniela Faye Moretti
or Daniela Faye Silvestro. I was no one. Nothing more than an empty vessel.
A body with no soul, no spirit…no fight. As the hollow set in, everything
went dark, and there was nothing. Nothing…until I heard his voice.
“Daniela!”
“Gian.” I was sure I said his name. I heard myself scream it out loud. But
it couldn’t be—not with the ball-gag stuck in my mouth and tied around my
head.
“Daniela. Jesus Christ!”
I tried to open my eyes, but Darion’s fists had no mercy, leaving my eyes
swollen shut, and I was sure a cheekbone was cracked. But I felt nothing. No
pain. I was numb, inside and out.
“Daniela.”
Hands touched my body, the chains rattling above and around me. I
didn’t know what the hell was going on until I felt the cold floor against my
body.
“Daniela, it’s Gian. Can you hear me?”
“Gian,” I whispered.
“I’m here.” Hands touched the back of my neck, and the ball-gag slipped
from my mouth. Pain radiated up my jaw and across my cheek as I closed my
mouth, and I could feel the crusted drool at the corners of my cracked lips.
“Gian.” My voice was hoarse and cracked from hours of trying to scream
through the ball-gag.
“Yes, it’s me.”
The relief that flowed through me when I heard his voice and felt his
warm breath against my cheek was indescribable. I wanted to believe that I
had died, that I crossed over, away from this horrible place. I couldn’t even
remember my life before this. Before the pain and the anguish. But I
remembered him.
Gian.
The husband I never wanted.
The man I fell hopelessly in love with.
“Daniela, can you hear me? Get her out of these chains now!” His voice
was harsh, demanding, and I jolted as fear instantly wrapped around every
aching bone in my body. Instinct drove me to weep and plead even though I
had no idea what for.
“I’m sorry.” I sobbed, my cut cheek burning as if my tears were droplets
of molten rock. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I repeated the words like a
mantra—over and over again as if saying it a thousand times would somehow
save me from punishment.
Punishment for what?
“Daniela, it’s okay,” I heard Gian’s voice say again. “You’re safe now,
okay? You’re safe.”
It was complete mayhem inside my head, my thoughts twisting and
turning in a thousand different directions at once. Was this what insanity felt
like? Your mind losing control of images, sounds, and voices it conjured up
as if you no longer held the reins to the motherfucking unicorns that took you
to an alternate universe where there was only one thing you could do. Lose
yourself.
Two arms wrapped around me, and every part of my body he touched
ached, causing me to wince. If I were a doll, I would have broken into pieces
when I was lifted off the ground. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from
screaming. The pain crushed me. It was impossible to pinpoint where it
stemmed from. It was just everywhere, radiating in waves, crashing against
bone.
“I got you,” he whispered, cradling me against his chest. It was his
familiar scent of black pepper and spice that made me fully comprehend that
I had been saved. That this was real, and not just another dream that would
end the second I opened my eyes.
“You’re here.” I lifted my arm, which seemed to weigh a ton, and sucked
in a breath when I found his face, placing my palm against his cheek.
“You’re really here.” I wanted to see him. I wanted to look into his eyes
while his heat spread through me, fighting the cold.
“I’m here, Daniela. I’m here.”
Chills erupted across my skin. The relief was too strong to contain, and I
couldn’t stop the sobs from pouring out. I cried as if death himself stood
before me, my belly aching as I wept uncontrollably, gasping for breath.
“You’re safe.”
“Darion.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue. “It’s Darion.”
“I know. Don’t you give him another thought, okay? Let’s get you taken
care of.”
I clutched his shirt between my fingers, wishing I could burrow myself
inside him, never wanting to let go. Ever.
There were voices all around us, sounds of chaos, and I knew we were
outside the second I felt cold air against my skin.
“Irina,” Gian called. “I need you to take care of her.”
“No.” I tightened my hold on his shirt. “Don’t leave me.”
“It’s okay. You’re safe, Daniela.”
“No. No. No!” I choked on hysteria as I refused to let go.
“Daniela, listen to me.”
God, I wanted to see him. I wanted to open my eyes. Why couldn’t I see
him?
“I’m going to put you down on Irina’s back seat, and she’s going to take
you to the hospital.”
“Then come with me.”
I sucked in a breath when I felt his warm palm gently cupping my cheek.
“You are safe now, okay? I have to go back inside and take care of this.”
This. Him.
“Don’t.” I grabbed at him as he set me down, something soft being
draped around my shoulders. “Don’t. Please don’t go back.”
I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him anywhere near Darion. I just
wanted him to stay here with me, to keep me in his arms and never let go.
“Gian, I beg you.”
“Irina, phone Dr. Johnson, tell him you’re on your way and this a needto-know case. He should get every staff member on our payroll on this.”
“No. Gian, don’t leave me.”
“I have to, Daniela.” His lips were soft as he pressed them against my
forehead in a desperate kiss. “I have to send my brother to hell where he
belongs.”
Chapter Eight
I could hear the darkness call, how the rage screamed at me to descend and
do my worst. The taste for blood coated my tongue, and the need to destroy
hammered against my spine, fueling my every step toward the gates of hell.
Finding Daniela was a remedy for my soul—a balm to soothe the raw
flesh that oozed the kind of helplessness a man like me should never feel. But
now that I knew she was safe, yet not unharmed, all I could think about was
vengeance. Every bruise on her face, every cut, the blood that clung to her
skin, it fed the madness. Ignited a bloodlust I’d gladly succumb to. The
woman I found here today was broken, battered, ruined. There wasn’t any
part of her body that remained untouched, and for that I would take my cold,
ruthless revenge against my own flesh and blood. Our civil war had found its
genesis, and just like Cain, I only had one objective—to slay my brother and
wear the curse of spilling the blood of my own as a fucking crown.
I took one last look at Daniela, her eyes frozen with pain. There used to
be so much life there, the shades of green dancing like vines through the
breeze in spring. But it was gone now. Withered and rotted.
“I love you,” I whispered before closing the back door of Irina’s car and
taking a deep breath.
“Follow them. Make sure they get to the hospital safely,” I ordered some
of Hunter’s men as I walked toward the house. I didn’t even know whose
fucking house this was because it sure as shit wasn’t Darion’s. Or maybe it
was. The fucker just had half a brain cell not to have it listed in his own
name. The extensive estate grounds made sure there was ample privacy,
something he clearly needed since dancing with one’s demons wasn’t
something you’d want your neighborhood watch privy to.
If I planned on having a brotherly heart-to-heart, I would have advised
him to get better security if his goal was to keep the world out. With Hunter’s
Hummer and my lack of finesse, we got access to the grounds without
blinking twice. Stupid fucker.
Darion’s whore, whose name we now knew was Riana, showed us the
basement's hidden door, a stereotypical dungeon giving everyone a glimpse
into his warped fucking mind. Plastered walls, red lights, and a fuckton of
leather and steel vibrated from the bass of the music. It was some fucked-up
metal song, a guy with a razor-cut voice slicing from his throat as he
screamed about fucking a goat on his momma’s bed.
Nothing could have prepared me for the scene we walked in on. Nothing.
Not even my worst nightmares could have conjured such fucked-up shit.
Daniela chained and gagged, my sadistic brother scrambling to the back of
the room with his dick hanging out of his pants. For a moment, my goddamn
mind split in two.
Tend to Daniela. See if she’s okay.
Tear your brother’s spine from his body and rip his heart out.
Daniela’s sobs tore through the rage, and my heart overruled my instinct.
My love for her demanded to be appeased before I fed my bloodlust.
But she was safe now, and far away from here. There was no longer
anything keeping me from unleashing the ravenous beast that knocked
against my skull.
As I descended the stairs, I could hear Darion spitting profanities at
Hunter while they had him tied to a chair with the same chains he had
Daniela hanging from the ceiling with.
Hunter brought his fist down hard on Darion’s jaw, his neck jerking to the
side. It didn’t matter how many girls Hunter had saved. Walking in on a
scene like we did today always brought out the beast in him. It wasn’t
something any sane man could ever get used to.
But for me…today was different. This scene was different. It hit me in the
most vulnerable place any man could ever have. It weakened me by turning
my motherfucking heart inside out.
“Stop,” I ordered as Hunter was about to punch Darion again. “Leave.
Now.”
Hunter shot me a questioning look but knew better than to say anything.
With a flick of his wrist and a nod, everyone left the room while I glared
daggers into my brother’s forehead.
Anger wasn’t a new feeling for me. But a toxic rage that rotted my insides
was. It was one of those moments you only saw in movies, where the hero
was so consumed with fury that he couldn’t act. Not because he didn’t want
to, or didn’t know how, but because he was ticking all the metaphorical boxes
to decide which method would be the most painful. The most brutal. The
most savage—because that was what the villain deserved. That was what my
brother deserved.
Darion smiled at me, his bloodstained teeth completing the picture-perfect
image of a motherfucking psychopath. “I know what you’re thinking,
brother.”
“Believe me. You don’t.”
He tugged at the chains and winced. “I do. You’re thinking about how
fucking awesome it is to be me.”
I picked up a pocketknife which lay on the ground, dried blood clinging
to the blade. I shuddered thinking about whether it was Daniela’s blood. “I
can assure you, I’m thinking a lot of shit about you right now, Darion, but
awesome ain’t it.”
“Oh, come now, Gian. We both know that between the two of us, I’m the
only one with the balls to embrace who I truly am. The only one with the guts
to allow myself the pleasures I crave. Unlike you, who prefers to live a lie
every single fucking day of your life.”
“It’s called self-control.”
“It’s called being a pussy!” He spat out a mouthful of blood, a string of
saliva clinging to his chin. “Gian Davide Silvestro. Davide,” he sneered as if
my name left a bitter taste in his mouth. “The beloved son. Funny, though,
since you never had the balls to do what needed to be done for this family.”
“It was always a pissing contest for you, wasn’t it?”
“Not as much a pissing contest as it was a way for me to prove that I’m
the better son.”
“It almost sounds like you’re trying to compensate for something with
that giant ego of yours.”
I glanced down at his crotch, and he smirked. “Why don’t you go ask
your wife whether I’m compensating for a small cock?”
In my mind, it played off in slow-motion, the moment that everything in
me snapped. The gates of hell broke, and I gripped the knife hard before
jabbing it into his hand. His screams rang like the sweetest fucking melody of
vengeance, the sound electrifying my insides. It was indescribable, watching
his face contort, relishing in his pain.
I clenched my jaw, pushed down, and forced the blade deeper, cracking
through bone, feeling how it split into the wooden armrest.
“Motherfucker!” Darion spat, his fingers outstretched, every muscle in his
hand and arm bulging as blood rushed to the wound.
I leaned down, bringing my face inches from him because I wanted him
to see the rage. I wanted him to see just how much I fucking hated him. How
hungry I was for his last goddamn breath.
“I dare you to say that again, brother.”
A delirious laugh left his drooling mouth. “I’d say suck my dick, but I
think you might not enjoy it as much as your wife did.”
A roar ripped from my throat, and I pulled the knife from his hand only to
lunge it back in, Darion’s sobs slamming against the walls. It was a beautiful
echo of torment and revenge that appeased my wrath, the sight of his blood
feeding my fury.
I pulled the knife from his flesh, inflicting more pain, and watched as
crimson oozed from the open wound. Even his blood wanted out, craving to
be free from his wretchedness.
I took a step back, staring at my brother—my own flesh and blood—
crying out in agony. There was something more than a lust for payback.
Something inside me was cracked as the weight of my brother’s betrayal set
in. This man before me didn’t just take my wife from me but robbed me of
my little brother as well. A double fucking whammy of deceit.
“Why?” It was a stupid question, and there was no right answer to it, yet I
asked it anyway. “Why did you hurt her?”
Darion’s head lolled from side to side, sweat beading on his forehead, his
cheeks a sickening gray. “Dear Gian,” he started breathlessly, “you’re asking
the wrong question.”
“I should be driving this knife through your heart instead of asking
questions.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“The fact that death is too merciful for a psychopath like you.”
He snorted. “So, now you want to torture your little brother?”
“Like you tortured her.”
“Oh, please. The bitch loved it.”
I became a beast, a monster controlled by bloodlust as I slammed my fist
against his jaw, over and over again, blood splattering with every blow. The
more I punched his face, the more I wanted to hold his heart in my hand as it
stopped beating. Thinking of all the cuts and bruises I saw on Daniela’s body,
her eyes swollen shut and face cut, it fucked with my mind and fed the rage.
Blood coated his face, my fist painted in red. “I should have known it was
you. I should have fucking known.” I stepped back. “I always knew you were
a sick motherfucker.”
His head hung down, his chin touching his chest, blood mixed with spit
dripping down onto his lap. “There are so many chess pieces at play here,
dear brother. You think you know,” I mumbled, “but you don’t. You really.
Fucking. Don’t.”
“You were obsessed with Daniela, and you couldn’t handle the fact that
she was chosen for me.”
“No.” He shook his head slowly, as if it took all the strength he had. “I
didn’t care that she married you.” He finally looked up, one eye almost
swollen shut. “I didn’t care that you fucked her every motherfucking night
while I slept in the room next to yours, listening to her moans, and your
disgusting groans when you came inside her.” He winced, and more blood
dripped from his mouth. “It was when she fell in love with you that I started
caring. The moment I realized that no matter what, you will always get all the
good things in life…even if you don’t deserve it.”
I let out a mocking laugh. “And you think you deserve her?”
“Neither of us do. She’s too perfect for both of us.”
“Is that why you ruined her?”
He smirked with a busted bottom lip. “Maybe I knew it was just a matter
of time before you found out it was me. Maybe I just wanted to ruin her
before you could have her again.”
“Yet now you’ll die knowing that I found her, and with time you’ll be
nothing but the remnants of a nightmare. She’s mine, Darion. She was mine
since she walked down that aisle, and there ain’t no amount of torture that
can change that.”
He shrugged and winced with the movement. “Oh, dear brother, you’re
not seeing the bigger picture here, are you? In the end, it doesn’t matter
whether you found her or not, or whether you’re going to kill me today—”
“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” I gritted out between clenched teeth.
“No matter, because I’ll always be there, Gian. I’ll always fucking be
there. I’ll be the one she thinks about when she wakes up in the morning, the
last person she thinks about whenever she closes her eyes at night. And when
you touch her, kiss her,” he grinned, “when you fuck her, I’ll be the face she
sees because I’ll be there inside her head, making sure there’s no fucking
place for you. So, you see, Gian, even though you’re the brother who got the
girl,” his eyes locked with mine, “I’m the brother who broke her, and there is
nothing you can do to fix her.”
The pressure of my own boiling blood was too much, my anger a raging
storm I could no longer contain. My chest burned, my muscles shook, and I
grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on—a rattan cane which lay on
the counter to my right. An angered scream ripped from my throat as I tore
the cane through the air and struck Darion across the face.
“Fuck you,” I yelled, bringing my arm back, hitting his other cheek with a
calculated backhand sweep. The cuts were instant, blood pouring from the
gaping flesh.
Darion screamed, he fucking wailed like a dying pig, and my rage was
instantly addicted to the sound.
“You should burn in hell.” I bit out, my teeth clenched so hard I was sure
they would crack. “You don’t deserve to die. You deserve to suffer.”
This time Darion couldn’t hit back with words dipped in spite. He was
too busy sobbing, and I imagined the saltiness of his tears burned the raw,
open skin on his cheeks like a motherfucker.
“But here’s the thing,” I grabbed the back of his chair and pulled it down,
sending him crashing against the hard floor, the wood splitting apart, “you
don’t deserve to live either.”
I bent down and grabbed the chains, subduing his flailing arms and legs
as he struggled to get free.
“Let me get that for you.” I pulled at the chain and allowed him to squirm
free, the broken chair laying in pieces around us. But with a swollen eye and
a beat-up face, it was impossible for him to fight me. Not even the devil
himself could survive my wrath—not today.
“Now,” I took him by his ankles and dragged him across the floor toward
the steel cage, “let me give you a taste of your own fucking medicine.”
“Gian—”
With the strength of a man fueled by nothing but the red of vengeance, I
shoved his pathetic ass into the cage, kicking at his knees to make him fit
inside before slamming it shut and securing the lock.
I stepped back, not taking my eyes off him for a single second. “I have
one more question for you. The girl—”
“What girl?”
“The girl who was put in the trunk of Irina’s car. Was it you?”
With the back of his hand, he touched his busted lip and winced.
“Was it you, Darion?” I yelled, my patience wearing thin.
He coughed and spat a mouthful of blood to the side before settling his
disturbed gaze on me. “I stood outside your bedroom that night, listening to
you fuck her.”
Bile crept up my throat.
“I don’t think I ever hated you as much as I did that night.”
“You’re sick.”
“Nevertheless,” his expression went from dark to pained, “something
broke inside me when I listened to you finally claiming your wife. The rage,
the anger, I had to let it out. I had to get rid of it.”
“So, you killed that girl.” My stomach turned.
His eyes glazed over as he stared past me at nothing. “I imagined it was
her. While I fucked that girl, I could see Daniela’s long, beautiful red curls,
and I pretended that it was her moans I heard while I came inside her.”
I launched myself at the cage, wanting to tear the fucker apart. “I’m going
to enjoy watching you die, you sick fuck.”
His maniacal laugh was almost as sickening as hearing bone crack.
“You’re such a predictable piece of shit, you know that? Can’t even contain
yourself to hear my whole story.”
“I’d rather you choke on your own blood.”
“You asked the question.”
“I’m done talking.”
“But I’m not done telling you my story.” He grabbed the steel bars and
brought his face close to mine, eyes swirling with wild insanity. “I hurt the
whore simply for not being her.”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed. “Why put her in Irina’s car?”
He shrugged, blood still pissing down his face from the open wounds on
his cheeks. “I knew she’d run to you. She always does. And I knew it would
fuck with your head.” His lips curled up in a snarl. “You have this
debilitating need to fucking save others who can’t save themselves, because
you, dear brother, can’t save yourself either.” He leaned his head to the side.
“Now who’s compensating?”
All I could do was stare at him as my words drowned in disgust for my
own flesh and blood. It was too surreal.
A fit of hysteria erupted out of him, and his maniacal laugh cut through
the room like a devil’s ballad clawing at my bones. “If only you could see the
murderous glare in your eyes right now. You can kill me, brother, but you’ll
never be free of me. Never!”
More hysterical laughter echoed from the walls, and I took a step back as
he started hitting the steel cage with the loose chains. “Kill me, brother! Kill
me! I’ve had my fun with your whore, so I’ll die a happy fucking man!”
The man inside that cage was not my brother—it wasn’t even fucking
human. Insanity and obsession had bent and deformed him to such an extent
that I no longer recognized him. He was not the baby boy my parents brought
home from the hospital. He was not the baby boy my mother cradled in her
arms while I watched her feed him. He was not the boy I chased through the
halls of our ridiculously large house. And he sure as hell wasn’t the brother I
stole candy from the kitchen cabinet with, or the brother I laughed so hard
with my stomach would ache whenever we pranked the gardeners with fake
snakes and spiders.
The man laughing like a demonic being in that cage was not Darion, and
for that reason I had zero doubt in my mind that there was nothing I wanted
more than to take his last breath from him in the most inhuman way possible.
I searched the room, spotted a small cannister of lighter fluid, and the
silver Zippo lighter I had given him on his twenty-first birthday. Without
thinking twice, I grabbed it, squirting the fluid across the floor and over the
cage. Darion ducked, lifting his arms and trying to keep it from falling on his
face. “What are you doing?”
I squeezed the last drop from the cannister, the strong scent of oil filling
the air and burning my nostrils. “I’m preparing you for what’s to come.”
With the pad of my thumb, I lit the lighter, and its trademark click resounded
as if it was the last goddamn nail in my brother’s coffin. I locked eyes with
Darion while the tiny flame flickered with deadly intent. “See you in hell,
little brother.”
Chapter Nine
I woke to a familiar sound, a rhythmic beep that echoed through the silence
of my thoughts. There was this daunting moment of realization where I didn’t
have to open my eyes to know things were different.
It was no longer cold, my body didn’t ache, and the soul crushing fear
was gone. Like the trickle of a waterfall, the memories fell into place. His
face, his touch, his warmth—I remembered it all.
He came for me. He saved me. “Gian.”
“I’m here.”
I sucked in a breath. “Gian.” His name was a prayer on my lips, and with
it came the delicate prickle of tears. I didn’t want to open my eyes just in case
none of this was real.
“I’m here, baby.” I felt the mattress dip, and he moved in behind me,
wrapping an arm around my waist and covering my hand with his, squeezing
lightly. “You’re safe.”
“Alessa?” I swallowed hard, fearing the words he would say next.
“She’s alive.”
“Oh, my God,” I whimpered.
“She’s safe, and so are you.”
“A woman named Riana, she came to us, told us where to find you.”
Oh, my God. Riana.
Her face flashed before my eyes. Her blood. Her moans. Her screams.
How ironic that she was part of my nightmare and had now played the most
significant role in my rescue.
“Riana.” I whispered her name—a name I’d now forever hold conflicted
feelings toward.
I glanced at Gian, and seeing him before me felt so surreal. Like a dream.
And I was afraid I’d wake up and realize that I was still in that cage.
“It’s really over?”
“It’s really over.” His warm breath caressed my cheek. It was when I felt
his lips against my temple that I let go, allowing the tears to flow. As if every
emotion suddenly came together, causing a sonic boom of sadness, I allowed
myself to be crushed by it. I no longer had to fight it. I no longer had to be
strong. Finally…God, finally, I could let go and surrender.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
There was no holding back the tears, not when I was so damn tired. My
body was crushed against the soft mattress, and Gian’s presence wrapped
around me like a cloak of protection, giving me this indescribable sense of
relief. It flowed through every bone, every vein, burrowing deep inside the
pieces of my broken self.
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. I swear to God.”
I felt something wet drip onto my temple—a tear. His tear. It was so
powerful, the way he sealed his vow with a piece of his soul, and for the first
time in so long, I felt my withered heart beat again. Soft. Faint. But it was
there. A sign that I was still alive. Still breathing. He didn’t win.
Darion didn’t win.
There was no sense of time as I lay there crying while Gian held me,
allowing me to purge, getting rid of the hurt safely in the comfort of his arms.
He didn’t say a word and simply breathed next to me. It was all I needed. I
didn’t need words of encouragement. I didn’t need sympathy or pity. I just
needed him, and the thought of his heart beating so close to mine.
Moments went by, and my tears started to dry. Gian didn’t move, and
neither did I. If I was given a choice, I’d choose to stay here forever, safely
enclosed against him. Untouchable.
For the first time since this nightmare started, I felt myself drift to sleep,
the pillowcase wet against my cheek. There was no heaviness in my belly, no
crippling fear lodged in my chest. Knowing Alessa was alive and safe lifted
the darkness that had threatened to swallow me whole. I had never felt relief
as intense as I did now, and it flowed over me like a river, cleansing my soul,
and I was finally able to rest.
Not even God himself could have taken me from Daniela’s side. The doctors
had given her a mild sedative to rest and allow her body much needed time to
heal. But I refused to leave, even for a minute. I didn’t care whether
Armageddon or World War Three broke out, my place was at her side, and
my responsibility was to keep her safe—something I had failed in doing the
first time, but something I sure as fuck wouldn’t fail at again.
My phone vibrated, and I glanced at it on the table next to me, my
father’s name flashing on the screen and increasing my annoyance level. I
had been avoiding him ever since I found Daniela and killed Darion by
burning the fucker to ash. My first priority was her, and only her, and dealing
with my father had to wait until I was fucking ready.
I had security placed all around this hospital, making sure no one got
close to her. Not even her own goddamn father. They all knew she was safe,
but no one knew of Darion’s fate. All that shit had to wait because right now
all that mattered was Daniela.
I let his call go to voicemail and shifted in my seat, rubbing my chin
between my thumb and forefinger. There was something Darion said that
stuck with me.
“There are so many chess pieces at play here, dear brother.”
Those words gave me this sinking feeling inside my gut that even though
he was rotting in hell, this nightmare was far from over.
Daniela stirred, a gentle moan lingering on her lips. While I sat in the
corner and watched over her, all I could think about was the kind of fear she
had to live with for days, and I wasn’t there to help her. Thank God, I was
given another chance, and now I’d spend my entire life making sure that
she’d never know fear like that again—never experience such tremendous
pain. But even with all the determination swooshing in my veins, there were
two things I couldn’t protect her from—things that would shake her to the
very core. And the worst part? There was absolutely nothing I could have
done to change the outcome of any of it. All that was left for me to do was to
be there once she found out.
I stood as Daniela opened her eyes, her smile instant when she saw me.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I moved to the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She nestled deeper into the pillow, her eyes still heavy. “What
day is it?”
“It’s Friday afternoon. You’ve slept for almost two days.”
“Was I out for that long?” She tried to sit up but winced.
“Easy, now.” I helped her move up and stacked an extra pillow behind
her head. “You needed the rest.”
A little disorientated, Daniela glanced at the IV in her arm, and at the
heart monitor next to her. “What…what happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Just bits and pieces.” Her eyes narrowed. “Scattered flashes. How…how
did you find me?”
I grabbed a stool and pulled it closer, taking a seat while clutching her
hand. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re safe. Darion can’t hurt
you anymore.”
“Darion.” Her cheeks paled. “Where…where is—”
“He’s gone, Daniela. Like I said, he can’t hurt you ever again.”
I immediately saw when she started to lose herself to the memories which
slowly trickled back. Tears welled up in her eyes, her expression sullen as she
sank further into the mattress, trying to make herself smaller. God, it fucking
broke me to see her like this.
“Don’t.” I squeezed her hand. “Don’t go back there, okay? It’s over.”
“He hurt me.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Darion hurt me.”
Jesus. I knew. I knew exactly how he hurt her. I spoke to the doctors. I
read their reports. It was far worse than I imagined—the vile, cruel things he
did to her. And what else did she endure which the physicals, scans, and
blood tests didn’t pick up?
“I know he did, and I can’t imagine what you have been through. But just
know,” I leaned closer, “just know that he’s gone, and I made sure he left this
world in the most horrific way.”
Her eyes narrowed, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “Is he—”
“Listen to me.” I enclosed her fragile hand between mine, squeezing
tightly. “I know I can’t undo all the awful things that psychopath did to you. I
know it’s going to take time—a lot of fucking time. But Darion is no longer a
threat to you, or anyone, for that matter. Don’t give that bastard another
thought.” I scooted closer so I could look her in the eye, hoping she’d see just
how fucking serious I was. “As God is my witness, I will spend every
goddamn moment of my life protecting you, helping you, and being the man
you need me to be. Do you understand that?”
My heart hiccupped as I watched her suck on her bottom lip, her jaw
clenched as she tried her hardest to bite back the tears.
“Do you understand that, Daniela? Anything you need, it’s yours.” I
kissed her hand and closed my eyes as my heart hurt for my wife. It hurt
because Darion’s obsession with her had consequences she didn’t deserve to
carry. He took from her that which wasn’t his to take, and there was no other
choice for her than to live with it—live with what that motherfucker did to
her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry that I couldn’t protect
you.”
“Gian, don’t.”
“I’m serious. I hate myself for letting him come near you. I fucking hate
myself for not being able to do more.”
“Stop.” With a gentle touch, she weaved her fingers through my hair.
“None of this is your fault.”
“Don’t say—”
“I love you, Gian,” she whispered, her words clawing at my chest.
“Nothing he did to me could change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”
“Jesus, Daniela. The man was my brother. We share the same fucking
blood.” Bile pushed up my throat. “And what he did to you…I can’t even—”
My insides twisted just thinking about it, every muscle, every fucking fiber in
my being pulled so goddamn tight, it could snap at any second.
“He’s not you,” Daniela whispered. “And you’re not him. You couldn’t
have known.”
But I did. I did know about Darion’s fucked-up and twisted depravities. I
knew he was a fucking predator and chose to ignore it, turned my back on the
truth to protect our family name. What happened to my wife was as much my
fault as it was Darion’s, and I would have to live with it for the rest of my
goddamn life.
“Does your father know?”
“Not yet. I wanted to make sure you were okay first, before I took on an
entirely different beast.” That beast being my father, and the truth of how I
killed my own flesh and blood. In our world, there was no bigger sin, no
bigger betrayal than that. It didn’t matter what the reasoning was behind the
act.
“I understand.” She stared at me as if she could see every image inside
my head, hear every thought. Our connection hadn’t been severed after
everything that had happened, and that was the one silver goddamn lining I
was so fucking thankful for right at that moment.
I breathed, hating and loving this moment the same. “I love you. So
fucking much.” I touched her cheek and leaned closer, gently touching my
lips against hers. I wanted to kiss her hard, swallow her pain and drown out
the memories. But I felt her hesitate, her body becoming rigid, so I didn’t
linger even though I could have kissed her until the end of time.
I licked my lips and cupped her cheek before pulling back, my eyes going
over every inch of her face. All I saw was beauty no matter how battered and
bruised she was.
She lay back and winced. “It hurts.”
“What hurts?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Down here.” She placed her palm on her
stomach, and my spine turned to ice, my skin cold, yet sweat beaded on my
forehead. “What happened? Why does my stomach hurt?” Her brows lifted in
question, and concrete instantly filled my insides. It was too damn early to
have this conversation. She needed more time to rest without anything adding
more emotional distress. But as my best goddamn friend, Murphy, would
have it, Dr. Johnson came walking in, clutching Daniela’s file while reaching
for a pen in the pocket of his white jacket.
“Ah, you’re awake.” He smiled, and it fucking irked me. “How are you
feeling, Mrs. Silvestro?”
“Fine, I guess.”
The doctor stood by the monitor checking her vitals. “Any pain?”
“Just around my pelvic area.”
Doctor Johnson made a note on her file and turned to face her. “That is to
be expected after the surgery you had.”
Daniela frowned as she glanced from the doctor to me, and back at the
doctor. “What surgery did I have?”
The doctor’s gaze cut to mine, and even though I was currently shooting
daggers at his eyes, I knew he had to tell her the truth.
“Mrs. Silvestro,” he started, instantly pulling on the mask of a
professional doctor who knew how to get a handle on his emotions to speak
the truth with minimal effort. “Because of your ordeal, there was extensive
internal damage.”
I observed her, searching for any sign of distress—but her expression
remained the same. It was only her cheeks which lost their color.
“We tried everything we could to save your reproductive organs, but
unfortunately, we had to do a full hysterectomy in order to repair the damage
and decrease any chances of infection.”
Silence. Mind numbing, ear splitting goddamn silence.
Daniela didn’t move. God, she didn’t even fucking blink. And all I could
do was stand there, watching and waiting for her to react.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Silvestro,” the doctor said, showing some sympathy for
the first time. “I’ll ask one of the nurses to give you another dose of morphine
for the pain.”
Both Daniela and I remained frozen as he walked out, the click of the
door closing echoing like a motherfucking gunshot around us.
What do I say?
Do I say something? Anything at all?
What the fuck do I do?
Daniela looked the other way, staring at the sand-colored wall, eyes
glazed over while she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. For the first time
in my life, I knew what it felt like to want something no amount of money
could ever buy. There was nothing I could do to change this—nothing I could
wave a credit card or a rolled-up stash of Benjamins at to make it disappear
or magically correct itself. This was all so fucked-up, and not even I was in a
position to change any of it.
I watched with a heavy heart as she blinked away the tears, trying her best
to remain strong and not break down.
God, I had to say something. “Daniela—”
“You said Alessa is alive, right?”
I balked, and my pulse raced. “Yes.”
She looked my way. “Can I see her?”
“I don’t think now is the right time.”
“Please.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” I went to stand at the end of the bed. “Right now,
you need to rest.”
“Gian, please.” Her jaw clenched as she struggled to fight against the
tears that shimmered in her flawed yet fucking beautiful eyes. “I want to see
her.”
I stood and pulled a palm down my face. This was why I wanted to keep
us here alone in this tiny little bubble in this motherfucking room. I wanted to
keep the entire goddamn world out, pretend that nothing else existed so I
could keep her protected. Help her fucking heal.
“Just a little while longer,” I said. “The doctors reckon you’ll be healthy
enough to go home within the next few days, so let’s just focus on getting
you better first, okay? Then I promise you can see Alessa as much as you
want.”
“Gian, I need to see my little sister.”
“No,” I rushed to her side, “what you need to do is get better, and then we
can deal with everything else.”
She frowned. “Wanting to see my sister isn’t something to deal with.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Daniela, you just heard the doctor. You can’t have children.”
“I know that, okay?” she erupted. “I heard the doctor. I know.” She
sucked in a breath and sank back into the pillows. “I know,” she whispered as
if it was an attempt to convince herself.
I glanced at her, my rapid pulse knocking against bone. “I just need you
to focus on getting better, and on nothing else. Okay?”
“I want to see my sister,” she bit out between clenched teeth.
“Daniela—”
“Please, Gian! I spent God knows how long in that cage thinking my
sister was dead. And then Darion,” she cleared her throat, “he told me she
wasn’t dead, but that he’d do anything to finish the job. I mourned my sister,
Gian. I cried so hard that it physically hurt. It fucking hurt more than
anything your brother had done to me.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, pulling a hand through my hair. “I only want you to
get better.”
“And I will. I just really need to see Alessa. Please.”
Our eyes met, and my chest tightened seeing her so vulnerable, so broken,
her tears pulling at every nerve in my body. I should have known she would
insist, that I wouldn’t be able to keep this from her for long. Everything
Daniela had done, every decision and action that led us to this day was
because of her love for her little sister.
I let out a labored breath. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
“But before I take you to see her, there’s something you need to know
first.”
Her fingers clutched at the white sheet. “What is it?”
“There’s something you need to know about your sister.”
Chapter Ten
The wheels creaked as we made our way down the hospital corridor. I hated
this wheelchair the moment I sat down on it, but Gian insisted, refusing to see
the irony. The entire way my heart was lodged in my throat, my stomach
turned upside down as I clenched my sweaty palms.
Nurses in their scrubs passed us and noticed my husband first with a
smile, before looking down at me with nothing but jealousy in their eyes.
Amazing how women could judge another simply because she was the wife
of a man they found attractive. How they instantly decided that I was the
villain in their fictional romance story which included my husband.
Doctors in their white jackets rushed around, clutching clipboards and
pushing medical equipment trollies. Going past all the wards, peaking inside
and seeing all the sick people made everything feel heavier. Eventually I
looked down at my hands resting in my lap on top of the white hospital
gown. Everything was already grim enough, and seeing the suffering of
others intensified it all.
“You okay?” Gian leaned down while he pushed the wheelchair.
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m fine.” I took a deep breath and swiped a curl from my
face. An hour ago, I was more than ready to see my sister, but now I wasn’t
so sure anymore.
One of the men Gian had instructed to go with us stepped to the front and
held one of the swivel doors open.
I glanced halfway over my shoulder. “Remind me again why it’s
necessary to have two men escort us to my sister’s room.”
“A precaution.”
“Why?”
“It sets me at ease.”
“Again, why? Darion is—”
“Don’t argue with me on this. You’ll be wasting your time.”
I bit my tongue, knowing now was not the time or place to push the
subject. Everyone was on edge, including Gian—especially Gian.
We came to a stop in front of what I assumed was Alessa’s room, the
white door closed. Nerves pricked at my insides like tiny needles, and no
matter how deeply I inhaled, it felt like the oxygen didn’t come close to
filling my lungs.
Gian rounded the wheelchair to stand in front of me. Apart from the five
o’clock shadow across his jaw and his disheveled hair, he still looked the part
of power, dressed in navy blue pants and crisp white dress shirt with sleeves
rolled up halfway.
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Amber irises that reminded me
of pools of gold silently pleaded with me to change my mind even though he
knew I wouldn’t.
“I’m sure.”
“This can wait a few more days, Daniela. Alessa is okay.”
I shook my head. “You and I both know she’s not okay. And no, it can’t
wait since I spent what felt like an eternity thinking she was dead, mourning
her, and crying over her. I want to see her.”
His jaw clenched, and I could see the worry in his eyes.
“I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Okay.” He huffed, pulling his lips in a straight line, silently making his
disapproval known.
“Just,” our eyes met as I placed my hands on the armrests of the
wheelchair, “I don’t want to go in there with this.”
“Daniela—”
“Please, Gian. I can’t go in there in this wheelchair.”
For the longest time our gazes remained locked, a silent battle between
his instinct to protect me and my desperation to make an already hard
situation less uncomfortable.
Gian placed his hands above mine on the armrests, leaning down and
pinning me with a stare that could crack through stone. “Fine, but then you
have to promise me that when I say it’s time to go, you won’t fight me.”
“This is not a negotiation,” I shot back.
“Now it is. And you know me well enough to know that you need to pick
your battles wisely. So, either you agree to my terms, or I’m taking you back
to your room in this goddamn wheelchair.”
I also knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t a threat that stemmed
from a sense of control, or his need to show dominion. It was there in his
eyes, the waves of concern he felt for me, and there was no way I couldn’t
appreciate that.
“Okay,” I conceded.
Gian gently took my hands in his and steadily helped me to my feet.
Every muscle in my stomach pulled and ached, making me hyperaware of the
incision that ran across my pelvis.
I pushed through the discomfort and straightened while Gian slipped an
arm around my waist. Stepping forward, my legs buckled, but Gian kept me
from falling. “I got you.”
I let out a breath and looked up, into his eyes, finding strength within the
golden hues. “You were always there,” I whispered. “Even at times I wished
you weren’t, the times I wanted your memory to disappear so I could give up
without disappointing you. But you never left, not once.” I lifted an arm and
touched his cheek. “Because of you, I couldn’t give up.”
With his thumb, he wiped at a tear that trickled down my cheek and took
me by surprise with a kiss that was gentle, yet a fierce reminder of the love
we found amid a hate we once thought were bigger than both of us. It was the
kind of kiss that could momentarily make one forget about all the ugliness in
the world—a kiss that could drown out the noise only to hear the single
heartbeat of the one who mattered most.
I shivered as he tucked a strand behind my ear, staring down at me as if I
was this fragile thing he couldn’t bear to lose.
“Ready?”
I nodded and licked my lips, praying I had the strength to act the part of
Alessa’s strong big sister.
Gian opened the door, and the first thing I saw was the wheelchair
standing in the opposite corner by the window, the black nylon seat mocking
me with its presence, the rubber tires a nauseating reminder of the price my
sister had to pay because of decisions made by others. My sister would never
walk again, and there was this gnawing ache inside my chest that kept
whispering all the reasons I was partly responsible for it. Darion might have
pulled the trigger, but it was because of me. Because I trusted him when he
pretended to be my friend. I laughed at his jokes and enjoyed his company
while he successfully hid the evil that festered inside him. And now here I
was, staring at the wheelchair which would forever be my sister’s cross to
bear.
I inhaled, trying to breathe through the pain that suffocated me. The smell
of bleach and antiseptic was strong. Instantly, I didn’t like the scent. I
smelled it ever since I woke up in this hospital, but as we walked into
Alessa’s room, I decided I hated it. Already I hated the memories that started
to cling to it.
One small, slow step at a time, Gian guided me into the room. The walls
were the same stark white as in my room, the floor so pristinely cleaned and
polished one could see your reflection in it.
“Faye?”
I froze and closed my eyes when I heard her voice.
“Oh, my God, Faye.”
My heart tore right open, bleeding inside my chest, forcing tears to my
eyes. “Alessa,” I whispered as I opened my eyes, taking one more step inside
the room so I could look at her beautiful face.
I had no idea how long it had been, but I mourned her, felt my heart
drown in grief. No matter how brief, the thought that I would never see her
again destroyed me. Yet here we were, and it was one of the best moments of
my life, seeing my sister after I had been convinced I never would.
“Alessa.” I choked on my own tears when I saw her sitting on the bed, her
hair draped over her shoulders, and eyes glistening with so much emotion I
couldn’t stop myself from rushing to her, forgetting about my body’s
temporary limitations.
A sharp pain shot across my stomach, radiating down my thighs, and I
winced, hunching over and clutching my abdomen.
“Daniela, are you all right?” Alessa’s voice shook with worry, and I
swept every little morsel of strength I had together.
“I’m fine. Nothing ibuprofen can’t cure.” I smiled warmly and sat down
on the bed, a soft pink blanket splayed over her legs.
More tears ran freely as I looked at her. She was still the Alessa I
remembered. Still alive. Still breathing. Without thinking twice, I wrapped
my arms around her and hugged her so tight I was convinced I’d never let her
go. Everything disappeared. There was no past, no Darion, no life-changing
event that had brought us to this moment.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Her body shuddered as she cried and tightened
her hold around me. “I was so scared when I woke up, remembering what
happened.”
“Shh,” I cooed and brushed my hand down her back.
“I freaked out, knowing Darion took you.” She sat back and held me at
arm’s length, wiping at her tears. “I remember running. I was so desperate to
get help, to find Gian. I just…I wanted—”
“Alessa, it’s okay.” Gently, I eased a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I’m okay. We’re both safe.”
“Are you okay?” She narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “Are you
really okay? What happened? What did Darion do to you?”
Her eyes were filled with panic, her sweet face covered in worry. I hated
it. I hated that after everything she’d been through, she worried about me as
well. This wasn’t how our dynamic worked. This wasn’t how I wanted it. I
was the one supposed to protect her, supposed to worry about her. Not the
other way around.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” My answer was more instinct than anything else. I didn’t walk in
here with the intention to lie to her, to spare her the gruesome details of my
time with Darion. In fact, I didn’t even think that far, that we’d be swapping
stories of our experiences through this ordeal. But now, while I saw the
concern in her eyes, the fear and distress of her every tear, I knew that I had
to keep the details of my trauma from her. I had to live with the memories,
the nightmares, and the scars—there was no need for Alessa to as well.
“I’m fine,” I lied with a smile.
“You don’t look fine. If you’re fine, why are you here in the hospital?”
I took both her hands in mine, my instinct to protect her kicking in gear.
“It’s only a few bruises. Nothing to worry about.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re lying. You always do that, lie to me
so I don’t have to worry.”
“Listen to me, I’m—”
“She’s here because I insist she stay,” Gian interrupted and placed a
comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s merely as a precaution. But your sister
is fine. I’m being an over-protective husband, that’s all.”
For a moment, Alessa glanced from me to him, and back to me before
taking a visibly deep breath. “Thank God. I was so worried.”
I gave Gian a knowing look, silently thanking him for helping me keep
my truth from her.
“After everything Darion said,” she continued, “after the way he acted…I
was terrified of him and what he’d do to you.”
“You don’t have to worry anymore. It’s over now.”
“Where is he? Is he in jail?”
Gian straightened. “He’s taken care of. All you two ladies need to focus
on is getting better so I can get you both out of this grim goddamn hospital.”
Alessa snickered, and I merely smiled. I knew life for both of us would
never be the same again. I would always have the memories, and Alessa’s
legs would always be her reminder of what happened. I couldn’t help but fear
the outside because once we left this hospital, we’d both have to move on and
learn to live with the aftermath.
Chapter Eleven
(Six weeks later)
I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been a rough and stressful time for everyone in
this house. But none of that could overshadow the relief I felt to have her
back. Safe. To be able to hold her again and watch her stroll through the
garden was absolutely fucking bliss.
But things were different.
She was different.
I wasn’t a total asshole expecting her to be the same Daniela as before my
psycho brother decided to make her his personal fucking blow-up doll. I
knew no person would ever be same after going through what she went
through. But I hated looking into her eyes and only seeing pain. Heartache.
Regret. Him. It fucked with my head thinking he was right in those moments
before I sent his ashes to hell. But he warned me, saying I’d never be rid of
him, and neither would she.
My phone rang, and I instantly knew who it was. He’d been phoning
almost every day, and I had been answering quite fucking selectively.
I sat down on one of the recliners and leaned back, not in the least bit
interested in whatever the fuck my father wanted to say, yet I decided to
humor him by pretending otherwise.
“What do you want, Dad?”
“Where have you been?”
“I’ve been tending to my traumatized wife and her handicapped sister, in
case you forgot.”
“How could I forget when you and your wife have spun all these lies
around your brother?”
“It’s not lies,” I bit out.
“Do you have any idea what this will do to our family? How your
accusations against your own flesh and blood will destroy our reputation with
our allies?”
I scoffed. “Do you have any idea how much I don’t give a fuck?”
“This is exactly the kind of behavior that only makes this entire situation
worse.”
“Worse?” I sat up straight as my muscles twitched. “How the fuck can
this situation be worse? First Darion shot my sister-in-law, leaving her
paralyzed from the waist down. Then kidnaps my wife, keeps her in a
motherfucking cage like an animal, and rapes her while he tortures her.” I
stood. “Tell me, Father, how in the name of Jesus fucking Christ is my
behavior making this worse?” Bile pushed up my throat, and bitterness
settled on my tongue. If my father had to stand in front of me right now, I’d
go savage and do something I’d regret after by kicking that goddamn naivety
he carried about my brother out of his ignorant fucking ass.
His silence was deafening and seemed to stretch for eons. I got the
distinct feeling my father was at a loss for words. Good, because I wasn’t
sure how much of this crap I’d be able to handle before I really lost my shit.
“Do I need to remind you what the repercussions will be should these lies
go public?”
“It’s not lies! And is that a threat?”
“Only if you and your wife decide to do something stupid.”
I balled my fist. “I would choose the next words that come out of your
mouth very wisely if I were you, Father.”
“You have no proof,” he growled, and I imagined him pressing his mouth
against the receiver, clutching it hard in his hand. “So, I suggest you put these
lies to rest before your wife ends up with a target on her back.”
“Do not threaten her. And I have proof. I saw it with my own fucking
eyes.”
“Liar! Do not test me, Gian. I pray to God I don’t find out you have
something to do with Darion’s disappearance.”
“I’m done with this conversation.” I hung up and threw my phone on the
table, feeling like I could scream or beat something to fucking death.
My brother was a motherfucking psychopath, and my father refused to
believe it. Or maybe he did, he just chose to overlook it in a bid to save our
family’s reputation.
The fact that my father didn’t know Darion was dead made unease spread
like a disease throughout my body. If he found out that I, his oldest son,
burned his own flesh and blood to ash, it would be fucking war. But that was
a battle to fight another day. Daniela had enough to deal with, and my
confession would only explode into a full-on raging war—something none of
us had the mental capacity to deal with right now.
I turned and watched as Daniela walked across the pool deck. We hadn’t
spoken about her not being able to have children of her own ever since the
doctor informed her of the emergency hysterectomy. Whenever I tried to
bring up the subject, it was like an invisible veil draped over her, shutting the
world out—shutting me out. Clearly it wasn’t something she wanted to think
or talk about. But while she wandered outside in the garden, any person could
see she had something weighing heavily on her heart. Whether it was her
own trauma, or the fact that her sister would never walk again due to a
psychotic fucker who had this sick goddamn obsession over her. Whatever it
was, it was killing her. Slowly. I could see it. Feel it. And the worst part, I
wasn’t sure if I could do anything about it.
“Mrs. Daniela is okay?” Gabriela placed a tray down on the table to the
side of the deck by the pool.
“She’s okay,” I replied as I continued to watch Daniela, brushing strands
of hair from her face as the breeze touched her red curls. God, I loved the
way the sun kissed those beautiful locks, turning them into molten gold.
The emerald green romper she wore made it easy to see all the weight she
had lost. Her hourglass figure used to fill out her dresses and rompers
perfectly, accentuating her hips. But her clothing became increasingly big for
her as her appetite kept waning.
I glanced at the fig and goat cheese salad Gabriela had prepared for lunch
and hoped Daniela would have a better appetite today.
I thanked Gabriela for the lunch, and she walked back in as Daniela
stepped up to me, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Would you mind if I
skipped lunch? I’m exhausted and think a midday power-nap is exactly what
I need right now.”
I snaked my arm around her waist, fully aware of how she stiffened from
the action. “What you need is to eat.”
“I’m sure skipping lunch won’t be detrimental to my health, Gian.”
“But that’s the thing, it’s not just lunch you’ve been skipping lately. You
didn’t eat last night either.”
She bit her lip and shrugged out of my hold. “Maybe it’s the hormone
therapy the doctor prescribed. I think it’s messing with my appetite.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is it the hormones, or the nightmares?”
Her expression fell, her cheeks pale, but I could see in her eyes that she
knew exactly what I was talking about.
“I know, Daniela.” I walked up to her. “I know you’re having nightmares.
It’s hard to miss when you wake up from someone screaming only to realize
it’s your wife sleeping next to you, drenched in sweat while fighting these
goddamn invisible demons.”
She clutched her hands in front of her and diverted her gaze away from
mine. “I’ll ask Gabriela to prepare one of the guestrooms for me, then, so I
don’t bother you.”
“Bother me? You don’t bother me. The fact that you don’t talk to me
bothers me. How you try to act like nothing’s wrong when everyone in this
house knows there is a shit-ton of things wrong bothers me.”
As she sucked on her bottom lip, her gaze drifted around, everywhere
except at me. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” I stepped closer and placed a
hand on her waist, looking down as I cupped her cheek. “Stop saying sorry,
Daniela. Just let me help you. I want to help you.”
She leaned deeper into my touch, closing her eyes as if she found a
moment of comfort there, and my heart ached to give that to her. To be her
comfort, her solace, her goddamn sanctuary where she could go when she
craved peace and quiet from the racing thoughts I knew plagued her.
“Please let me help you.” The plea bled from my heart and poured from
my soul. “You’re my wife, Daniela.”
“I know.” She sucked in a breath. “And I am trying. I am trying to be the
wife you need me to be.”
“No.” I cradled both her cheeks in my palms, forcing her to look at me. “I
don’t want you to be the wife I need. I want to be the husband you need, but
you have to let me in. You have to come to me, confide in me.”
“I’m trying.” She sniffed as a tear trickled down her beautiful face—that
one tear having the power to slice my heart wide open and bleed inside my
chest. “I’m trying, Gian. I really am. When I woke up in the hospital and you
told me Darion couldn’t hurt me anymore, I knew you meant he was dead.”
She placed her hand on top of mine which still cupped her cheek. “I knew
you killed him, and I also knew what a burden that has to be for you.”
“No,” I shook my head, “believe me, it’s no burden. The only burden I
carry is the regret of not making him suffer more.”
“He was your brother, Gian.”
“And you are my wife,” I bit out between clenched teeth, pulling her
body closer to mine as desperation filled my veins. “You are my wife, and I
can promise you that I carry no burden, no regret for taking my brother’s
life.”
“Then why haven’t you told your father yet?” The way she looked at me
was if she thought she already knew the answer and pitied me for it.
I let go of her face and stepped back, my mind racing with a thousand
thoughts all going in the same direction—my need to protect her from more
anarchy.
“You know how our families work, Daniela. We have our ways, our own
rules. I’m simply trying to protect you.”
Her eyes narrowed, hurt painting her every feature. “Are you sure that’s
it?”
“Stop, okay? Just stop. You think because you live with this regret about
what happened to Alessa, hating that you couldn’t do anything to help her,
that I feel the same. That I somehow feel remorse for what I did.” I pressed a
finger against my chest. “Well, I don’t. Darion and I never had this strong
bond you and Alessa have. Your sister isn’t some fucking psychopath who
took the person you loved from you, hurt her and broke her, and now even
after death still haunts her.” I stepped closer as anger smothered my selfcontrol. “Darion was a motherfucking lunatic, a monster who deserved to die.
So, do not for one moment think I regret being the one who sent him to hell,
do you understand me?”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even move. All she did was stand there,
staring at me as if she wasn’t even sure who she was looking at. God, I hated
it. I hated that this space between us seemed to grow larger and larger with
each passing day, but I had to make this one thing clear—no matter what
other thoughts occupied her broken mind. Me regretting killing Darion and
mourning his death was simply not true. Not in the slightest.
“I have a lot of sleepless nights,” I stated. “But I can promise you that
Darion burning in hell is not one of the reasons keeping me up, I swear to
God.”
I could feel my muscles shake with the drive to make her understand that
my first and most important priority was her. Everything I did, I did for her.
She bit her bottom lip and took a few strides until she wrapped her arms
around my waist, nestling her face against my chest. For two fucking seconds
I stood frozen, not moving, my mind a mess and my insides coiled tight.
“I’m trying, Gian.”
Finally, I settled my arms around her and held her tight. “I know.” For the
longest time, we stood there, immersed in each other, our existence absorbing
the pain that kept us from moving forward, threatening to keep us in limbo.
But I couldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t.
“If you don’t want to talk to me, maybe you should see someone. A
therapist.”
She shrugged out of my hold and stepped back. “I’m not crazy.”
“Of course you’re not crazy.” I tried to reach for her, but she moved
away.
“I just need some time. Okay? Just give me time.”
I sighed and slipped a hand through my hair. “Please don’t take this the
wrong way, but are you sure having Alessa around is the best thing for you
right now?”
“What?” She recoiled, staring at me with narrowed eyes and cocked
brows.
“Like I said, don’t take this the wrong way. I just don’t think having
Alessa here and being reminded daily of her paralysis is good for you—not
when you have your own trauma to deal with.”
She crossed her legs and scoffed. “Tell me, Gian, do you think that if
Alessa weren’t here, and me not seeing her sit in that wheelchair every day,
that I won’t think about it, or feel sorry for her and what she’s lost?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
For what felt like fucking eons our gazes were locked. The part of her eye
that stood out with a different hue darkened even more than the rest of her
irises, and I knew she was silently seething on the inside.
“All I’m saying is your healing is just as important as Alessa’s.”
“How dare you?” she sneered, her eyes turning two shades darker. “How
dare you compare what I went through with Alessa, who will never fucking
walk again? She’ll never be able to walk down the aisle on her wedding day
or have that first dance with her new husband at the reception. My God, Gian,
she would never be able to play and run around a garden with her own kids
one day.”
“And neither will you.”
The words slipped out before I could think twice, and I regretted it the
instant it left my mouth. Her expression fell as if the shadow of hell had
dropped over her. The pain. The anguish. The anger.
“Daniela—”
“I’m fully aware that I won’t be able to run around a garden with kids of
my own.”
“And that is something that has to be eating at you on the inside,
something you’ll have to talk about sooner or later.”
“Why?” Her bottom lip trembled, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“It’s not like talking about it will change anything. Talking about it won’t
magically give me a uterus so I can bear my own children—give my husband
an heir.”
“Don’t.” I shook my head and placed a hand on my waist. “You know I
don’t care about that.”
“My father does.” She sucked in a breath, her shoulders slumped as if she
was carrying the weight of the world. “My father cares so much about me not
being able to produce a Silvestro-Moretti heir that he hasn’t spoken to me
ever since I left the hospital. No phone call. No message. No visit. Nothing.”
Her voice was filled with equal parts hurt, pain, and resentment.
I didn’t think it was possible to hate Emilio Moretti more than I already
did, but seeing the amount of anguish he was causing my wife pushed my
loathing of him to a whole different motherfucking level. All he cared about
was power, money, that people would quiver in their goddamn boots
whenever they heard his name. But he was nothing more than a soulless,
selfish son of a bitch.
“Listen to me.” I inched forward and placed my hands on her shoulders,
squeezing tightly so she couldn’t move away. “Do not allow your father’s
shortcomings to become an extra weight you have to carry.”
She smiled, but there was nothing friendly or loving about it. “You think
this is the first time I’ll be burdened with my father’s bullshit?” She clenched
her teeth and leaned closer to me. “I’ve been saddled with it since the day he
informed me that I would never have the luxury of choosing my own
husband. My father became a burden I had to carry because it would become
my sister’s if I didn't. And now look where it’s gotten us.” She straightened
and squared her shoulders with a hardened look in her eyes which I had never
seen before. “Now I’m starting to wonder if what I did was actually
protecting Alessa…or if she would have been better off being the one to
marry the eldest Silvestro brother, instead of me.”
I was too dumbfounded to move, rendered fucking speechless, and
merely watched as she stormed off into the house.
Her words struck a chord inside me, and my heart felt two tons heavier
than it did before. I knew she was hurting. I knew she was struggling. What I
didn’t know was how to help her. I didn’t know what she needed me to be—
the nice, supportive husband who hovered and coddled her until she
eventually felt the need to confide in me and share her pain. Or the prick
husband she married, the man who demanded, the one who challenged her to
show me her worst by being the fucking best she could be.
“She will blame herself for what happened to me no matter what.”
I turned and saw Alessa steering her wheelchair toward me. “How much
of that conversation did you hear?”
“All of it. But I already knew everything that was said.”
I raised a brow. “You know…”
“Yeah. I know about the arranged marriage, and how my father
threatened to marry me off if Daniela didn’t go through with it.”
“How did you…?”
She shrugged before placing her hands on top of the blue crochet blanket
draped over her legs. “I overheard my parents talk in the hospital room while
they thought I was asleep. My mom blames my father for everything.”
“Good. She should. You want a drink?” I walked inside to the bar.
“Please tell me you have vodka?”
“I do. But your sister will hand me my balls on a silver platter if she
catches me giving you alcohol.”
Alessa scoffed. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
I handed her a glass of vodka. “And that is the exact same sentiment your
sister has. What you don’t know can’t hurt her.”
Alessa smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Did he hurt her that badly?
So badly that she can’t have kids?”
I let out a breath and lolled my head down. “Yeah.” A simple answer to a
complicated and fucked-up situation.
“How do you feel about it?”
I looked her way and frowned. “Me?”
“Yeah. It affects you as well. Since Daniela can’t have kids, neither can
you.”
“I know that, I just…” I looked out over the pool. “I haven’t had a minute
to think about how I feel about it. Until now, all I think about is how she
feels, how she’s dealing with it.” And that was the God’s honest truth. Sure,
deep down I knew this all meant I’d never have kids of my own. I just never
thought of it as a burden I’d need to bear—not compared to what Daniela
would have to live with for the rest of her life.
Alessa’s lips curved at the edges, and this time her smile did reach her
eyes. “You’re not such a big dick after all.”
“Dick?” I smirked. “Who said I was a dick?”
“You’ll never know.” She turned the wheelchair and steered back into the
house, leaving me with an amused grin. I had to give it to the girl for not
allowing that damn chair to break her spirit. If only Daniela could see past
her guilt, then she’ll realize that, too.
“Oh, by the way,” Alessa called out over her shoulder, “if I can give you
some advice…don’t treat Daniela any differently. You know, make her feel
you pity her. Pity makes her feel weak, and there is nothing Daniela hates
more than feeling weak.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“That’s what a sister-in-law is for.”
I tipped my glass in her direction and walked past the pool to stand by the
steps that led down to the garden. All the flowers Daniela had ordered before
the shit-show with Darion still weren’t planted, standing around in the
temporary black plant bags holding the little soil they had. Earlier, when she
walked past them, she didn’t look at them once, as if she didn’t even notice
them standing there, needing a place of their own to be planted and bloom.
I craned my neck and closed my eyes, feeling the sun beam down on my
face. Maybe I was a masochist, or just plain certifiable, but I tried to picture
it. I tried to create the mental image of what it had to be like for her. How it
had to feel being imprisoned in that cage like some rabid animal, being
starved and hurt, not knowing what would happen from one moment to the
next, constantly being afraid while fear fed the hunger inside your stomach.
My heart started pounding, a plea for me to stop thinking about it before
it tore from my chest only to bleed out at my feet.
But I wanted more. I wanted to feel more because maybe if I could sweep
together my own anger and my guilt, I might be able to feel a fraction of what
she had to be going through.
I tilted my head to the side, eyes still closed, and forced myself down the
darkest fucking road I could go inside my mind. Creating the image of her—
my wife, naked and tied up.
My pulse raced, sweat beading at the back of my neck, trickling down my
spine. I gritted my teeth as rage burned and hissed throughout my body, every
vein pulsing close to the surface of my skin. It was when I heard her cries so
damn clearly as if I were there right now, her pleas for him to stop, yet her
begging would fall on deaf ears as he continued to molest and rape her. That
was when I lost it, when my demons and anger collided, the glass shattering
in my palm, the shooting pain pulling me from that wretched place inside my
mind.
“Jesus.” Blood dripped from my hand and stained the paved steps.
Broken pieces of glass scattered around my feet, and my hand burned from
multiple cuts. But I refused to acknowledge it. I refused to fucking feel it…
because nothing, nothing could come close to the amount of pain she
endured. The fucking misery and suffering she lived through one torturous
minute after the other for goddamn days.
I never should have killed him. I never should have lit that lighter. Darion
should have been alive and breathing. He should have been here so I could
peel his skin off piece by piece, little by little every day, and bottle his
screams as a goddamn souvenir.
I showed Darion a mercy he didn’t deserve, and I would pay for that
mistake for the rest of my goddamn life.
Chapter Twelve
No matter how much soap I lathered on my body, or how hard I scrubbed my
skin, I could still feel the filth cling to me. It felt like parasites were eating at
my flesh, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Gian was right. I was having nightmares—but not of him. Not of Darion.
It was the insects that crawled all over me, tearing me apart piece by piece
until they reached bone. There was nothing I could do to stop them. I was in
that cage, locked inside and unable to get away. I had no choice but to let
them devour me like I was nothing but weak prey. Every night I fought them
in that tiny steel prison. Every night I would remind myself to breathe, to not
scream, because if I did, they’d creep inside my mouth by the hundreds and
feast on my insides. The fear was paralyzing while I waited for it to end,
suffocating on my own vomit because I was too scared to open my mouth.
Every night, they would come, waiting in the corners of the room until I
fell asleep.
Water cascaded down my back as I leaned against the shower wall, the
wet locks of my hair hanging down my face. Whether the water was ice cold
or scorching hot, I felt nothing. I didn’t feel anything anymore. Every day, I’d
walk through the garden hoping to feel something, hoping the colors and
scent of the flowers would stir new life inside me, that the fresh air and
beauty of the outside would make me feel less…numb. But it had been
weeks, and there was nothing but this dark, empty hole inside me that kept
pulsing as it sucked more life out of me. Killing me slowly.
“Daniela?” Gian knocked on the door. “You okay? You’ve been in there
a long time.”
I turned off the faucet and wiped the water from my face. “I’m fine. I’ll
be out in a bit.”
Gian. My husband. The man who once hated and despised me like a coldhearted beast had now become my savior. It had been so long, and not once
did he make me feel like I was neglecting him as a wife. In fact, he hardly
ever touched me. Kissed me. Held me. Today, outside by the pool, was the
most contact we had since I came home from hospital. I appreciated him
keeping his distance, and not having certain expectations of me. But a part of
me wanted him to take me, to claim me once again. Maybe then I’d feel
something. Perhaps if I felt the touch of the man I loved, it would cure the
numbness I carried around every goddamn day.
Maybe he was the one who could chase away the parasites that mauled
me at night.
Without grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the shower and walked past
the mirror. I never looked at my reflection anymore. Seeing my scars would
be like acknowledging their existence, and I didn’t want that because they
were marred reminders of what Darion had taken from me.
My willpower.
My peace.
My joy.
My body.
My chance at being a mother.
I walked across the bathroom floor, leaving puddles of water on the white
tiles. When I opened the door and saw Gian standing by the window looking
out, I took a moment to observe him. To drink him in.
The sky was painted with the yellows and pinks of sunset, and Gian stood
with his back toward me, hands in his pockets. The white shirt he wore
hugged his broad shoulders, going all the way down the hollow of his back
and disappearing beneath his black pants. Gian Silvestro was the epitome of
power. A hawk—mighty, majestic, regal. The way people looked at him in
passing, how all the women stared at him with desire, wanting him, and all
the men wanting to be him. Some might argue his influence came from his
surname, but I knew that wasn’t true. When he walked into a room, even the
people who didn’t know him would pause and look in his direction. People
were drawn to him, and they feared him.
But me? I loved him.
Hopefully, he would love me enough to make me whole again.
“Gian.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and I watched him take a breath before
turning to face me. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see the resemblance. They were
brothers. They shared the same DNA. Cain and Abel, the story of how one
brother slayed the other. Only in this story, it wasn’t jealousy, but revenge.
That liquid amber gaze that had captivated me so many times before
raked over my naked body, and I could tell whenever he saw a scar, as he
would pause for a split second, and anger would flash in his eyes.
My arms. My thighs.
My stomach. The scar which carried the heftiest price tag of all. One I’d
pay for the rest of my life.
“Get dressed, Daniela. You’ll catch a cold.”
I shook my head and bit my lip. “I need you.” There was no mistaking
what it was that I needed from him.
“No.” His expression seemed pained. “You’re not ready.”
“I am.”
“Well, I’m not.”
I frowned and approached him with one slow step at a time, water still
dripping around me on the floor. “Why not?”
He wiped at his chin and shifted from one leg to the other, refusing—or
rather, unable to answer.
“Is it because I’m scarred? No longer the perfect wife with a body worth
fucking?”
“God, no.”
“Because I’m ruined?”
“Daniela—”
“Or maybe,” I tilted my head to the side, “maybe it’s the fact that your
brother has been there. Inside me. Using me. Raping me.”
“Stop.”
I stepped right up to him, my naked toes touching his leather shoes. “Do
you see him every time you look at me?” Tears burned my eyes. “Do you
loathe the fact that your brother’s cock was inside me after you?”
“Stop!” He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed, pulling me closer.
“What are you trying to do?”
I choked on a sob which I desperately tried to silence. “I’m trying to
feel.”
“How? By angering me? Provoking me?”
“Maybe.” A tear slipped down my cheek. “All I know is that not feeling
is far worse than feeling pain. Fear. Terror.”
He loosened his grip a little. “Some people would argue that after going
through an ordeal like yours, not feeling would be a welcome reprieve.”
“Not for me. Do you know how many times a day I have to remind
myself that I exist? That I live and breathe? I have to remind myself of that
because I feel nothing. Feeling something lets me know I’m alive, Gian. I
want to know that my heart still beats. That air still fills my lungs. I want to
live.”
He bit his lip, and I could see a flash of hunger in his eyes. A glimmer of
the primal instinct he was so determined to suppress. “Why?” I let my hand
slip down between us, gently palming his cock. He closed his eyes as I
rubbed my hand along his length which hardened with every passing second.
“Why are you refusing me?” I pressed harder, and his lips parted.
“Don’t,” he warned but did nothing to move away from my touch.
“Why don’t you want to make love to me?”
“Daniela—”
I grabbed his hand and brought it up to my breast, letting him feel my soft
flesh and hard nipple against his palm. “Am I too damaged for you? God
knows, even before he ruined me, I wasn’t good enough for you with the
filthy Moretti blood in my veins.”
“Jesus Christ. Stop!”
“You won’t even tell your father that you killed your brother for what he
did to me? Do you regret it? Do you regret killing your own flesh and blood
for me?”
He snarled, his top lip curling with anger. “Do not speak of things you
know nothing about.”
“I know that it’s been weeks and you’re still letting your father believe
Darion is off on some or other fucking vacation, sunbathing in Bali.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what?” I snapped. “I’ve already lived through every woman’s
worst fucking nightmare, Gian. If there was a textbook written on the worst
things to do to a woman, your brother read it, and I endured it.”
“I know that.”
“Then tell me. Are you protecting me,” I lifted my chin as I looked him in
the eye, “or are you protecting yourself?”
An angered growl ripped from his throat as his hands wrapped around my
wrists, fingers biting into my flesh as he spun me around and slammed me
against the wall, bringing his face inches from mine. “Surely you know what
happens to families like ours when there’s civil unrest. When there’s war and
bloodshed inside the walls of your own home.”
I pressed my lips in a straight line.
“It’s the worst shame that can be brought upon a family. It shows
weakness and instability within a family, affecting how our allies and
enemies see us. No one wants to be in an alliance with an unstable ally, and
one’s enemies will regard it as an opportunity to strike. Now, while I couldn’t
give a single fuck what any person on this entire goddamn planet thought
about me burning my brother alive, it’s you I do give a fuck about.” He
tightened his hold on my wrists, inching closer. “Don’t you see?” He leaned
his head to the side. “You will be the one they come for because they know
you are my only weakness. They will come at you with everything they’ve
got, and they will tear you apart like starved wolves. And your family? They
won’t stop until they’ve ruined every person in your family. Now, while I
personally wouldn’t mind seeing your father go down, I know you wouldn’t
want Alessa to go down with him.”
He let go and pushed himself back, his gaze focused on mine. “So,
whatever you think my reasoning is for not shouting it from the rooftops that
I sent my brother to hell, think again, because I can promise you, you’re
fucking wrong.”
My pulse raced, and my chest ached. Not once did it occur to me that his
silence was for my own good. I assumed he felt shame for what he had done,
but clearly, I had thought wrong.
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t.” He held up his hand. “Do not say you’re sorry. Do not fucking
apologize. I simply want you to know that everything I’m doing, every
goddamn decision I’m making is for you, to protect you. Nothing else.”
“Fine.” I straightened. “But how is not being with me, your wife,
protecting me?”
He launched forward, fire burning in his irises. “Do you think I’m
refusing you because I don’t want to be with you? Make love to my wife, be
inside you and make love to you again? You’re my wife, Daniela. I love you
and want nothing more than to show you just how much between those
motherfucking silk sheets.” The amber swirls of his eyes had turned dark—
there was a hunger in them, a craving for ecstasy. But he was fighting it with
every breath. “But I’m afraid. I’m so fucking scared that once I slip inside
you, come inside you, you’ll see his face…and not mine.”
What was left of my heart shattered at that moment, nothing but shards of
glass piercing my chest as I looked into the eyes of my husband who finally
had the courage to reveal his fear. His weakness.
He tightened his hold around my wrists, pushing his hard body against
me, his lips a breath away from mine. “I would rather never touch you again.
Never feel your naked body against mine, hear your soft whimpers while I
make love to you ever again than have you see my brother’s face one more
fucking time.” Abruptly, he let go of me and took a step back. “Is that reason
enough for you?”
“It would be if you weren’t hiding something else.”
“Goddammit, Daniela. I’m not hiding anything else.”
“Liar.” I inched closer, not giving my nakedness a second thought.
Dignity was something I lost inside that cage as well. “I know you. I know
you carry this guilt inside you, and it’s eating you alive.”
As he pulled a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. “You have no
idea what you’re talking about.”
“Well, then, let’s see if I’m right.” I stepped up to him, scrutinizing his
pained features, dark shadows casted over his expression. “You think that if
we never got married, if you never went through with our fathers’ demands,
this wouldn’t have happened to me. That Darion wouldn’t have taken me.
Am I right?”
With lips pulled in a straight line, he answered me with his silence, the
look in his eyes a fusion of truth and denial.
I craned my neck to look him in the eye, water dripping from my wet hair
down my naked back. “After everything I’ve been through, everything he’s
taken from me, not once—not once did I blame you, and I sure as hell never
regretted marrying you. Don’t you see, Gian? We can’t change what
happened to me. We can’t change what he took from us.” I pointed at the scar
that stretched from one side of my pelvis to the other, the thought alone
causing this sinking feeling deep within my gut. His gaze followed, and I saw
my own pain flash in his eyes. My own sense of grief. “But your guilt and
this numbness inside me is going to tear us apart, and I already lost
everything else. I can’t lose us too.”
Desperation for peace, a need for love, and a cry to find normal again
poured out of me one single tear at a time. Who ever thought this kind of
numbness could hurt so goddamn much?
“Please, Gian.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, nestling my naked
body against his, letting my tears stain his expensive shirt.
A silent whimper slipped from my lips when he placed his arms around
me, hugging me gently at first. But the longer we stood there, the tighter his
grip became, until he hugged me so damn tight I could easily smother within
the safety of his embrace.
“Don’t let go of me,” I begged. “Please.”
“Jesus, Daniela.” He kissed me hard at the top of my head. “I will never
let you go. Never.”
One moment, two lovers, and a world of pain leaving both our hearts
stripped, cut, and bleeding in our palms.
I felt him breathe in deeply, his chest rising and falling as he touched my
cheek, lifting my face so our eyes could meet. “I love you, Daniela. I love
you enough to sacrifice my damn soul for you. I love you enough to tie
myself in the darkest pits of hell if that meant you could find peace from all
this.”
“All I need is for you to claim me, so I know I’m no longer his.”
“You never were his.”
“Still. I need you to erase him, so I can once again be yours, and only
yours.”
“Oh, sweet Faye.” He cupped my cheeks, eyes glimmering with affection
as he stared down at me. “You’ve always been mine.”
Finally, he sealed our pain with a kiss, warm lips caressing mine, and I
whimpered as I tried to swallow my tears. But heat instantly flowed all the
way from my chest, down my spine, and to my core where I had felt nothing
but cold until this moment.
Our bodies melted together as he deepened his desperate kiss, cupping
my cheeks tightly almost as if he was afraid I’d disappear. The air crackled
with so many emotions coming together, it felt like a storm was brewing
around us, slowly growing and pressure mounting.
“Are you sure?” he whispered against my lips. “Are you sure you’re
ready?”
I’d have been lying if I denied that there was a part of me that feared the
next step, but the part of me that needed it was much bigger, convinced that
this would be right.
I slipped my arms around his neck and closed my eyes as I leaned my
head against his lips as he placed kisses across my temple. “You found me.
You saved me once. Now…I need you to save me one more time.” I looked
up at him. “Save me this one last time.”
His chest rose as he breathed in, resting his forehead against mine. “You
never should have needed saving in the first place.”
The sorrow and regret that laced his every word made the blood in my
veins weep, this moment so powerful I could feel it flood my soul.
“Gian—”
“I have one condition.” Gently, he touched the tip of my chin, locking his
gaze with mine. “Don’t close your eyes. Not once, not even for a moment. I
want you to see me the entire time. You understand? Just me.”
I nodded my silent agreement. There was no ignoring the nerves that
flickered in my belly, the chills running down the back of my neck. Even
though I wanted this, the demons weren’t too far away, growling in the
shadows, waiting for a moment to strike. But I was determined to fight them.
One. More. Time.
Only one more fight, and I knew I’d defeat them. I’d conquer the
memories and kill the insects that threatened to eat me whole at night.
Gian let go of me and took a single step back, holding his arms out wide.
“We’re doing this on your terms. So, if you want to, go ahead and start by
taking off my shirt.”
I swallowed, glancing from one button to the other as I reached out. My
hands shook slightly, my fingers fumbling as I started with the first button.
All the while, he kept his eyes on me, watching me, studying me with such
intensity it felt like he was counting my every breath.
One button at a time I moved my hands down his shirt, my fingertips
brushing against his chest. I could see his skin erupt in goosebumps, tiny
shivers rippling across his body. It felt good to know I still affected him in
that way—even if I was ruined goods.
Glancing up into his eyes, I untucked the shirt from his pants and slipped
it off his shoulders. With every passing second, his expression darkened, and
my body eased back into the sexual tension that used to burn so brightly
between us.
The white shirt pooled around his feet, and he remained still, doing
nothing but stare at me. “Go on.”
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a mere second only to have Gian
reach out and take my face between his thumb and forefinger. “No closing
your eyes.”
“I know.”
“I’m not doing it this way to make it harder for your, Daniela. But I need
you to lead, to take the first step. I’ll follow. Okay? It’s the only way I’ll
know whether you’re okay.”
I bit my lip and nodded before reaching for his pants, unbuckling his belt
and pulling the zipper down, my knuckles easing against his hard length, and
it sent a bolt of electricity through every bone in my body, igniting that
welcome anticipation I had grown addicted to when it came to my husband—
something I was afraid would never return.
Gian leaned down to pull the pants from his legs, and as he started back
up, he gently traced a single finger up the outside of my leg. I craned my
neck, focusing on my breathing while allowing my body to grow accustomed
to his slow, tender touch.
As he reached my waist, he drew a single circle around my hip bone, and
my breath caught in my throat at the thought of where it would go next.
Where his touch would wander. And for a moment, I froze, my mind slipping
back to that cage. Back to the dark.
“Stay with me.” His touch continued over my waist and up my arm as he
straightened, our gazes finally meeting. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“I do.” My lips burned to feel his—to have his taste linger on my tongue.
He lowered his lips, hovering a breath from mine, leaving that last inch
for me to take.
For a heartbeat and more we stood frozen, naked, our gazes locked, the
world around us nothing but distant noise. We weren’t touching, yet we
enveloped each other simply by being close. I could feel him, hear the pulse
of his heart, how his heat seeped through his pores, how his existence
screamed for mine through the silence.
I tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear and pushed myself up on my
toes. “I love you,” I whispered and pressed my mouth against his. He kissed
me back but waited until I touched my tongue against his lips, waiting for me
to be ready to open for him. It was the most tender kiss I had ever
experienced. Soft. Gentle. Easy.
The moment our tongues touched, I whimpered at the first feel of
butterflies deep inside my belly—something I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.
Days spent in that cage, I was convinced every butterfly had been destroyed,
but I was wrong because here they were, fluttering, flapping their wings and
gaining flight. Dear God. I felt something.
A tear rolled down my cheek, its saltiness invading the sweetness of our
kiss.
“Daniela,” Gian said against my lips.
“I’m not numb.” Another tear escaped. “I’m not numb, Gian. I feel
something.” More tears turned into the beautiful whimpers of joy and relief.
Love and hope. “I can feel you.”
In a state of rapture, I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him
harder, pressing my body against his, loving how his skin felt against mine. I
felt it. I felt the need, the deep sense of anticipation of being one with him.
I wasn’t numb.
The silk sheets of the bed brushed against the backs of my legs, and I
eased down, not letting go of him for a second, allowing him to settle on top
of me, our lips locked in a kiss that could conquer any demon and eradicate
the darkness.
“You have to tell me when you’re not okay.” He leaned on his elbows,
staring down at me. The look in his eyes was something I had never seen
before. There had always been this dominance within the gold swirls. Power.
Primal. Hard. But not tonight.
Tonight there was something softer, caring, affectionate.
He swiped at a red strand of my hair. “Promise me you’ll tell me.”
“I will.”
I took his hand and placed it against my chest, his palm covering the
swell of my breast, not taking my eyes off his.
With a gentle massage of the round flesh, I whimpered as the heat of need
spread through my body, between my legs. But with that feeling came a
twinge of uncertainty in my chest, forcing a lump up my throat.
I swallowed and squirmed slightly beneath him, and he touched my
cheek, a simple act that set me at ease.
“You need to touch me,” he urged and placed what felt like a thousand
kisses across my jaw. “Move your palms across my skin and know it’s me.
Feel me.”
I slipped my arms down his shoulders, my fingertips traveling over his
heated flesh, feeling the contours of his broad, muscled back, the clefts of his
waist, and the warmth of his body. All my senses heightened, his scent
surrounding me, his taste still lingering on my tongue, and it was all so
familiar. It calmed me and gave me a sense of being found and finally
brought home. He was my home.
Gian moved, and I could feel his cock against the apex of my thighs, and
I held my breath only to realize that he had stopped. That he didn’t push
forward.
“Your terms, remember?” With a slight shift on top of me, he took my
hand in his and brought it down between us. Down. Down. Down. Until I
touched his cock, hard and ready to claim me, to make me his once again.
“Guide me inside you.”
I wrapped my fingers around his length and watched as his eyes
darkened, hooded with a need that would soon morph from controlled to
primal. And as he clenched his jaw, I breathed in deeply and flexed my hips,
taking him inside me.
He filled me completely as I took him in deeper, being reminded of what
it felt like to be filled to the brim.
The next step would be a thrust.
A grunt.
A hard, ruthless pounding.
My pulse started to race, sweat suddenly beading on my forehead, the
back of my neck on fire as heat swept across my skin.
It was too full. The pressure was too intense, and I wanted to scream. It
was there, stuck in my throat, the cry for it to stop. But it couldn’t come out.
I closed my eyes as panic filled my lungs, drowning me from the inside.
“Daniela, open your eyes.”
Schiava.
“Daniela, look at me.”
Schiava.
“Daniela!”
Strong arms slipped in beneath me, and I was pulled up, my hair
cascading down my back.
“Open your eyes…Faye.”
He moved, and when I opened my eyes, he had me straddling his lap as
we both sat on top of the bed, him looking up at me this time. “It’s me.” He
wiped at my cheeks, easing my hair down the back of my shoulder. “It’s only
me. No one else. You’re safe here. No one can hurt you.”
Another tear made its way down my cheek.
“He can’t ever hurt you again. Ever.”
I choked on a sob and swallowed hard. It was the strangest feeling. New.
To feel like my heart would burst from the love I had for this man, and yet
some part of me was so afraid. But I knew I had to move past that fear. If I
didn’t, Darion would win. And no matter what, I was determined not to let
him.
“I love you so much,” I whispered as he continued to draw lazy circles
over my cheek.
Moonlight that shined in through the window caught the contour of his
face perfectly, bathing him in a glow that enhanced the shadows around him
—such a beautiful contradiction. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t
love him. A time when we were enemies, when we hated each other. It was
like our love had always been there and always filled my heart.
Weaving my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, I moved my
hips and took him deeper inside me.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he warned, and I lifted myself, only to slowly
take him again. Deeper this time, allowing all of him to fill me.
His hands snaked up behind my back, his palms flat against my skin as I
started a rhythm. Slow. Inch by inch. Little by little.
I palmed his face, looking down into his eyes—eyes which had become
like home to me. “I love you. I loved you through everything. Every minute I
was with him, I still loved you.” Tears now streamed freely down my cheeks.
“Even when I wanted to die, I still loved you.”
“Jesus, Daniela.” His hands came up around my shoulders, pushing me
down harder against him, and I caught my breath as his cock hit against my
core, causing me to shudder.
“There wasn’t a single moment when I didn’t love you.”
His eyes glistened, and my soul shattered even though my heart started to
bloom once more.
“Through it all, my love for you remained,” I whimpered. “He might have
broken me, Gian. But he could never break my love for you.”
I wasn’t saying these things because I thought he needed to hear it. I said
it because I needed to hear it. I had to voice it, taste the truth on my lips. It
was bittersweet.
Bittersweet and freeing.
“I love you, Faye.” He placed a kiss on my chest, between my breasts. “I
love you so fucking much, I can’t breathe without you. You’re mine,
understand that?” He flexed his hips, and I moaned as I felt him stretch me,
the pressure growing stronger. “You have always been mine, and there is no
one in this entire fucking world who can change that. Mine.”
Our lips collided, and our defenses crumbled to dust. The black mark left
on my soul was torn clean off, and I felt the light take its place as our tongues
danced and dueled, our most primal nature taking control. And I was okay
with that.
Entirely and utterly okay with it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck tightly as I continued the rhythm on
top of him, loving how he matched the movement by flexing his hips beneath
me.
Like a rolling wave on its way to shore, I felt my climax build, growing
stronger, until finally, it crashed, sending me in a spiral of euphoria as it
washed away all my broken pieces.
My body trembled against his, our pleasure reaching its crescendo
together, our moans a beautiful melody of love. Hope and healing.
Gian wasn’t just my husband or my savior. He was my everything. He
was…my lifeline.
Chapter Thirteen
It was one of those moments that could easily define you. A moment that
could change everything and alter the path to your future. It was pleasure. It
was ecstasy. Rapture. But not without its own level of sadness. Pain. Loss.
As Daniela grieved the loss of her peace and freedom from the demons
Darion had brought into her life, so did I mourn the loss of my wife. I wasn’t
a naïve man to think that Daniela would ever be the same again. No person
would. Yes, the day would come that she would find some normalcy, maybe
even some level of contentment. But there would always be a part of her that
remained locked in that cage.
I watched as her lips parted, her cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade
of pink as her body shuddered beneath me. There was nothing better than the
feeling of being with my wife in this way. But it fucking broke my heart to
see her fight those inner demons that threatened to ruin this one sacred thing
that solidified the bond between husband and wife.
It seemed I had underestimated my wife’s strength, not thinking her mind
and body would be able to handle this kind of closeness, this connection. Sex.
But yet again, just like she had done not long after our forced marriage, she
proved me wrong.
She proved me wrong by showing me she was nothing like her father.
And tonight, she showed that she was strong. So. Fucking. Strong.
“Don’t close your eyes,” I whispered as her pleasure peaked, and she did
it without faltering, looking at me the entire time. I needed her to know it was
me and no one else. I couldn’t bear it if she had to see Darion’s face while I
made love to her. It would wreck me.
I eased out of her and slowly pushed back in, feeling every inch of her
around my cock. Warm. Slick. Fucking beautiful. And while her moans
sounded like music to my ears, listening to her labored breaths, it made me
hyperaware of how goddamn good it felt to be inside her. It was euphoric, a
drug. An addiction I would gladly succumb to.
Every primal instinct I had begged me to move faster, harder. To fuck.
But while my gaze remained locked on hers, I knew this moment, this
connection wasn’t about me or my pleasure. It was about her. About her
body, soul, and mind. It was about showing her that no matter what Darion
had done to her, one thing he couldn’t do was sever the connection she and I
shared.
Heat spread down my spine. The pleasure of feeling her from the inside,
clenching my cock tight, had flowed through every muscle of my body. It
was electricity pulsing through every vein, my heart racing until it crashed,
and I fell apart on top of her, unraveling at the seams.
I came inside her while our gazes remained locked—not breaking that
palpable connection between us once. Not even while we relished the
pleasure that consumed us, making us forget the world. Forget the pain.
Forget the hurt of a past that didn’t exist within that one single moment.
We soared, and we crashed. And we did it together as one—husband and
wife.
I kissed her lips, caressed her tongue with mine as ecstasy lingered within
our bones. “You are mine, Faye. It doesn’t matter what anyone does, that will
never change. I swear it.”
Her body trembled beneath mine, her chest rising and falling until she
could no longer hold on to her tears. It was like something snapped. A damn
that broke, and she sobbed uncontrollably as if the magnitude of what
happened finally came crashing down all at once.
I snaked my arms under her shoulders and shifted to the side, pulling her
with me as I cradled her in my arms, her face buried in my chest as she
purged, her tears lapping onto my skin. She was broken. Utterly and
completely fucking broken, and the worst part was, there was nothing I could
do to fix this now. Today. This very fucking moment. It killed me to know
there was no quick fix for this kind of pain, and only time would heal—but
she would never forget. And neither would I.
For the longest time, I cradled her in my arms as she continued to weep.
We didn’t talk. She didn’t tell me of the thoughts that occupied her mind as
she cried, and I didn’t ask. All I could do was brush my fingers up and down
her arm, letting her know I was there while she rid herself of the toxin Darion
had poisoned her with, one tear at a time.
Eventually, her tears had subsided, and I could feel the tension ease from
her body as she relaxed against mine. Still, no words were spoken. There was
no need to say anything because we both knew. We knew the pain, the
heartache, the loss. We knew there was a long-ass road ahead of us until we
got to a point where healing would be possible. But the most important thing
was—we had each other. Or rather, I had her. No matter how broken,
battered, or bruised, I would rather have a piece of her than nothing at all.
I lay awake that night, listening to her rhythmic breathing as she slept in
my arms. It was the first night since I got her back that she didn’t scream or
cry or moan in her sleep. She was peaceful. Calm. Serene. And God knew,
that did something to me. It had my heart all wrapped up in pretty rainbow
colors with a little red goddamn bow, the fact that she could find all those
things in my arms. With me.
The day I watched Daniela Moretti walk down the aisle, I was determined
to be her villain. But things changed. My world changed. I changed. And now
I was determined to be her knight in shining fucking armor.
Days passed, and it was easy to see the gradual change in her. Every day she
became lighter, that spark of life that drew me to her slowly returning. Her
smile finally started to reach her eyes, and every time I touched her, I could
see it got easier for her to stay out of that dark place where the memories
could snatch her away from me.
I knew it wasn’t over. I knew this would be a lifelong fight for her. For
us. But with every sunrise and sunset it became easier.
She started to spend more time in the garden, taking Alessa outside with
her every day. Even the flowers’ colors grew brighter. If I never believed that
flowers and nature picked up on the energy around them, I’d be a true
fucking believer right about now.
Things were starting to look a lot like…normal. But there was one more
thing that had to be done. One more chapter needed to be completed in order
for us to close this metaphorical book about a shitstorm that had become our
lives, and fucking burn it.
My father.
The time for him to find out the truth about what happened with Darion
was fast approaching. I had stalled for as long as I could, putting Daniela’s
safety and wellbeing first. But I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the bullshit
for much longer. The fact that I hadn’t heard from my father in days after he
had been harassing me with calls ever since I got Daniela back meant he was
leaning back in that leather chair of his, rubbing his chin while mulling over
all the information I had given him. Selective information.
It wouldn’t be long before he’d start an investigation of his own, if he
hadn’t already. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about Emilio Moretti putting
his unwelcome ass in my way, demanding answers. Did he care that his
youngest daughter had been paralyzed, and would never walk again? No.
Did he care that his oldest daughter had been kidnapped, abused, raped,
and ruined? No.
Did he care that Daniela could not produce a Silvestro-Moretti heir? Yes.
Motherfucker.
I often dreamt of him being in that same cage alongside my twisted
brother, allowing me to burn them both to nothing but ash. Dust. Tiny little
particles that could be swept away with the subtlest breeze, evaporating—
wiped from existence.
The only thing that mattered to him was that Daniela had been found, and
all was well with the Silvestro-Moretti alliance.
I had just finished my morning coffee when Irina came sauntering in,
heels clicking across the floor. “We have a problem.”
“And good morning to you, too, Irina.”
She walked up to the dining table and placed her hand on her waist
accentuated by the gray pencil skirt she wore. “Your father is sniffing around
in places he shouldn’t.”
I wasn’t surprised. “Why do you say that?”
“A man tied to your father has been seen around town asking questions
about Bethany and Riana, and their supposed disappearance.”
I sat up straight. “How does he know about them?”
“Beats me.” She shrugged. “But you and I both know not to
underestimate your father—especially now that Darion has supposedly been
missing for two months.” She licked her cherry red lips and placed a hand on
one of the dining chairs. “You need to tell him, Gian. He needs to know
before he digs too deep and compromises our entire operation. This has the
potential to ruin years of our hard work.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Do you really? Because if you did, you would have told your
father weeks ago that you sent your brother’s psychopathic ass to hell where
he belongs.”
I got up from my seat. “You know it’s not that simple.”
“What I know is that I have spent too long building and protecting this
operation of ours to watch it all go down because your father refuses to
accept that his youngest son is the devil incarnate.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering if nine in the morning was
too early for my first glass of bourbon. It sure as fuck was too goddamn early
to have Irina’s Russian ass on my case stating the fucking obvious.
“Listen,” I turned to face her but glanced out the window to make sure
Daniela was still busy in the garden, “I know I can’t hide the truth from my
father for much longer. But I need to figure out what my next move will be
after he finds out. Handling my father is like a game of chess. You have to
approach it with your entire strategy planned out, anticipate your opponent’s
every move and be able to counter each one.”
Irina frowned. “You say that like you have more than one option here.”
“I do. I have options.”
“Which are?” She seemed intrigued.
I placed my hands in my pants pockets. “Either I face my father, tell him
the truth, and put Daniela’s wellbeing on the line, or…” I eyed Irina with
caution.
“Or?” She shrugged.
“Or…we pack up and leave.”
“What?” she snapped in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.” I poured myself another cup of coffee before I
resorted to reaching for the bourbon. “I have to think about her. And right
now, leaving, going someplace my dad could never find us—find her—seems
like the safest option.”
“I get that, but, Gian,” she rounded the dining table and approached me,
“if you leave in such a way that your father never finds you, that means…”
“Yeah.” I looked at her. “That means I can’t have any part in our business
anymore. I’ll be out, Irina.”
Disbelief clouded her every feature, her cheeks pale and lips parted. I
knew this would come as a shock to her. To me, it was kind of a no-brainer.
Leaving was the better option. But I knew if I left it would be a massive
setback for the team. Not only did I finance more than half of the operation,
but I had all the contacts, went around with the right crowds, played golf and
had drinks with the right people who assisted our venture by repaying favors
with favors. If I left without a trace—which I’d have to if I wanted to make
sure my father never found us—then I’d have to break all ties.
I cleared my throat. “If Daniela and I leave, I can no longer be a part of
this.”
“No.”
Both Irina and I turned to see Daniela stand by the entrance, a bunch of
freshly picked white peonies in hand.
“I won’t let you do it.” She walked in and placed the flowers on the table
before approaching us. “You can’t give up what you’re doing here, Gian.
You can’t stop saving all those girls.”
I took her hand and tried to shield her from Irina as I leaned closer,
lowering my voice. “Those girls are no longer my responsibility, Daniela.
You are.”
“Don’t you dare,” she sneered. “If finding those girls, saving them, isn’t
your responsibility, then whose is it? If you don’t help them, who will?”
“Listen to me.” I stepped closer, needing to get my point across as clearly
as fucking possible. “If we stay, and my father finds out that I killed my
brother, it won’t stop. It will never stop. My father will go after the one thing
I care about the most, and that is why you will have a target on your head.
My father will stop at nothing to make sure our life—your life is a living
hell.”
Her eyes glistened, swirls of green and brown. “I’ve been through hell,
remember? And I survived.” She stepped away and stood where Irina could
see her. “So I say let him do his worst. I can handle it. What I can’t handle is
the thought of all those girls sitting in cages just like I have, being tortured
and raped, with no hope of ever being found. I don’t know about you, but I
wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had to go to bed at night knowing I
could actually do something to help find them, but I’m not doing it.”
The balls of her cheeks turned a flushed pink, the shimmer of unshed
tears showing how fucking much she meant every word she just spoke. And
Jesus help me, but to me she had never looked more beautiful than in that
moment.
Chapter Fourteen
I understood the weight of the situation we found ourselves in. If Gian’s
father had to find out about what he had done to Darion, there would never be
peace, even if Gian’s actions were justified. I also knew that Gian didn’t care
about what happened within their family, only about the fact that I was now
part of this family, which meant I would be part of the war as well.
But to me, disappearing was not an option solely because I now
understood the importance of what Gian and Irina were doing. They were
saving girls who had no hope, women who had given up—whose families
were no longer searching for them. How could I let him give that up simply
because he thought he was protecting me?
I cut my gaze to his, hoping he’d see the determination in my eyes. “I will
not be the reason you stop saving people, Gian. I would rather stay here and
endure your father’s wrath than live with that on my conscience.”
Irina pursed her lips, her eyes filled with amusement. “I knew there was a
reason I liked you, Red.”
I smiled, but I could feel Gian’s frustration from a few feet away. “I’m
afraid this isn’t up for debate.”
I faced him and crossed my arms. “My terms, remember?”
His eyes flashed. “That was different, and you know it.”
With a few short, calculated steps, I walked up to him, not breaking eye
contact once. “I am not leaving, not if it jeopardizes what you and Irina are
doing here.” I reached out and cupped his cheek, gently stroking the contour
of his face. “And that, dear husband, is not up for debate.”
I pushed myself up on my toes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before
turning and walking away.
“Excuse me for a minute, Irina,” I heard him say, followed by his heavy,
angry footsteps behind me. It was a predictable move on his part because I
knew he wouldn’t take kindly to me refusing to go along with his plan.
“Daniela.”
I kept walking.
“Daniela!” He caught up to me and wrapped an icy hand around my
elbow, ushering me toward his study and shutting the door behind him.
I glanced around his home office, the scent of lavender oil furniture
polish clinging to the air. The large, bold, cherry wood desk stood across
from me, papers and folders neatly placed on it.
“What the fuck are you thinking? Once my father knows about Darion—”
“Then don’t tell him.” I turned to face him. “Don’t tell your father what
happened.”
“What?”
“Think about it, Gian. He doesn’t need to know what happened that night.
No one does. Keeping this secret to ourselves is the answer to all our
problems right now. We can stay here, you can continue doing what you’re
doing, saving lives, and you don’t have to be burdened with this incessant
worry about me becoming your dad’s next target.”
“Firstly,” he said with a steady, controlled voice, “keeping you safe is not
a burden. It’s my fucking duty as your husband.” He took an intimidating
step toward me. “Secondly, if I had my way, I’d scream it from the
motherfucking rooftops, letting the entire goddamn world know I killed my
brother, and that I would do it a thousand times over if I could. The fact that I
have to keep this secret, not able to tell everyone that I avenged my wife by
sending the man who hurt her to hell is fucking eating me alive, Daniela. I
hate it. I fucking hate it.”
My chest constricted. “Gian,” I whispered.
He took another step. “And lastly, I want you to be able to walk with your
head held high, looking every son of a bitch in the eye, knowing that if they
so much as look at you in the wrong way, I’d slit their goddamn throats.” He
stilled no more than two feet away from me, his eyes dark and gaze hard.
“But as much as I wish I could do all those things, things my instincts as your
husband demand that I do, is fucking moot because I would not risk your
safety.”
I placed my hands on my hips as I stared at him, studied every hard line
on his face. “Well, there you have it. We can’t tell anyone about Darion.”
Gian sighed and craned his neck as I glanced up at the ceiling. “Not
telling my father comes with its own consequences.”
“Like what?”
His worried gaze drifted across the room before it finally found mine.
“My father’s quest in finding Darion is leading him dangerously close to our
underground search and rescue operation. That’s why Irina came here this
morning, to tell me my father is poking his nose in places he shouldn’t.”
“Oh, my God,” I muttered, and sat down on the nearest leather chair. “So,
we’re basically damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.”
My head started to spin a hundred different directions at once, each
direction taking me to the exact same conclusion.
Gian pulled a hand through his hair. “Now do you understand when I say
packing up and leaving is our only safe option here?”
I hated this heaviness I felt in my chest, this suffocating weight of
deciding between options that all carried dire consequences.
If we stayed and Gian told his father about killing Darion, we’d be
opening the floodgates of hell.
If we stayed and kept our secret, Gian’s search and rescue operation could
go up in smoke.
If we ran, there would be no more saving women from the same fate I
lived through. To me, this was not an option.
“We can’t leave.” I stood and faced him. “And we can’t allow your dad to
compromise what you and Irina have built. So, we have no other choice.” I
crossed my arms. “We have to tell the world our secret.”
Gian leaned with his hands against the desk, his midnight hair disheveled
but still perfect. “To you, it might seem simple which is the right option for
us here. But to me, it’s not. Your safety is of no importance to you. You
always put other people’s needs before your own, and that’s great.
Admirable, even. But I’ll be damned if I do the same by protecting others
before I protect my own,” his eyes met mine with a determination that flashed
across his amber gaze, “and you are my own.”
Pure resolve filled his every feature, and like a goddamn concrete wall, I
knew he wouldn’t crack. Not now. Not while everything remained up in the
air, and with all this uncertainty that surrounded us. If there was one thing I
had learned, it was to pick your battles, and only pursue the ones you could
win, and at a time you knew you could win it. Right now, I would lose this
battle with my husband in a second.
I licked my lips and paced as I searched through my thoughts when a
black envelope on his desk, with both our names written in gold calligraphy,
caught my attention.
“What is that?” I gestured toward the invitation, and Gian picked it up.
“It’s nothing. Just an invitation to our family’s Carnivale masquerade
party.”
“Oh, I remember those.” I walked over and took the envelope from him.
“The Carnevale di Venezia. My parents attend it every year, although they
never allowed me or Alessa to accompany them. I used to love seeing them in
those extravagant outfits and masks.”
“My parents pretend it’s a way of celebrating our heritage even though
we no longer live in Italy. But if you ask me, it’s nothing more than a way to
show off the extent of their wealth, and a reason to drink copious amounts of
alcohol while my dad inconspicuously fucks other women. And let’s not
forget that it’s the one night of the year my mother is permitted to welcome
another man in her bed as long as she wears her mask the entire time.”
“Jesus.” I frowned. “Apart from the blatant orgy, I always thought it to be
fun.”
Unamused, he plucked the envelope from my grasp. “Well, I can assure
you, it’s not.” He tossed it on his desk, the topic of his family’s annual
Carnivale party no longer of any importance, and looked my way. “Once
you’re done trying to change the subject, we need to discuss this.”
“To me, it seems like you’ve already made up your mind, so why the
need to continue the discussion?” I challenged with a hint of defiance.
“I know you think the right choice is to stay and speak our truth. But you
have no idea the shitstorm we’ll be caught in once the truth is out there about
Darion.”
I sauntered toward his desk, leaning on the other end while keeping his
gaze. “You seem to forget that I’m from this world, too. I know how things
work. But I can honestly say I don’t give a shit whether your father puts a
human-sized target on my forehead. What I do care about is those girls.
Besides,” I leaned my head to the side, allowing my curls to slip down my
shoulders, “you and I both know you’re not a coward, Gian. You don’t run
from your demons, you face them.”
“Not when it puts my wife in harm’s way.” He straightened and squared
his shoulders beneath the pale blue shirt he wore, the vein in his neck visible
above the collar. “You know as well as I do that leaving is the better option
for us.”
“For us, maybe.” I also straightened so I could look him in the eye. “But
not for the hundreds of girls and women you could save if we stay.”
He narrowed his eyes, his lips pulled in a straight line as he stared at me.
For a moment, I expected him to push me on this, to demand that we do as he
thought best. It was almost like a dance between us. He would demand, and I
would challenge. Back and forth until one of us would graciously bow out
and let the other get their way. But the way he looked at me, his expression
stone and unreadable, I found myself wondering in which direction his
thoughts were going.
Unable to breathe within the tension, I sighed. “Deep down, you know
running would only delay the inevitable. The past has a way of catching up
with you.” I tucked a curl behind my ear. “We need to stay here, Gian. You
and Irina need to continue what you’re doing.”
He licked his lips, rounded the desk, and stepped close, towering over me
as he dominated the entire goddamn room simply by breathing. “You,
Daniela Faye Silvestro, are my life.”
“Then don’t put me in a position where I’d hate myself for it.”
For the longest time, he stared at me without saying a word. The silence
was deafening as everything that needed to be said filled the space between
us. It appeared as if we were at an impasse. I knew he would not be easily
persuaded just as he knew I wouldn’t give up without a fight. We were like
fire and ice, the sun and the moon. Two opposites, a constant contradiction,
yet the beauty of one could never be fully appreciated without the flaws of
the other.
Pick your battles wisely.
I pursed my lips and moved closer, pressing out bodies against each
other. “Let’s agree to a ceasefire.” My words were smoothly coated with
seduction as I placed my hands on his chest. “For now.”
“For now?” He cocked a brow.
“We can argue about this further after the party.”
“What party?”
I reached out without taking my eyes off him, and grabbed the black
envelope, brushing my fingers along the edges. “Carnivale di Venezia.”
“No,” he responded simply. A one-syllable word that both responded and
ended a conversation.
“Please, Gian.”
“No. We are not going to that damn masquerade party.” He took a seat on
one of the leather couches which faced the floor to ceiling windows, and I
followed, straddling him without hesitation.
“Despite how you might feel about your family’s Carnivale celebration, it
is still an important social event we need to attend as Mr. and Mrs. Silvestro.
It’s a tradition that goes back decades in your family, and I think it would be
good for everyone to see us as a united front,” I sucked my bottom lip and
shrugged, “especially if you’re going to tell your father about Darion.”
“Even if I do agree to stay—which I don’t—I can promise you that some
mere fucking annual party will not change the outcome of that.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s still a good idea for us both to look the world in
the eye. We can’t hide between these walls forever.”
He arched a brow. “You don’t strike me as the type who cares about
social events and keeping up appearances.”
“I don’t. But the sooner we start facing the masses, the better. We can’t
hide here forever.”
His chest rose and fell as he inhaled, and it was clear from his expression
alone that he had zero desire to do anything that involved his family. And
frankly, neither did I. But as much as we hated it, this was our lives. His
family. My family. It wasn’t something we’d ever be able to change.
He rolled his eyes in a mocking surrender. “Okay, fine. But on one
condition.”
“Oh, my God,” I moaned. “Why am I not surprised.”
He took my chin between his fingers and squeezed, forcing me to look at
him. “You stay by my side at all times. Do you understand me? No
wandering off in another direction, and if anything—and I mean anything—
seems out of sorts, I’m hauling your ass out of there.” His fingers bit into my
cheeks. “Do you. Understand me?”
There was no mistaking the intensity in his eyes, and the sheer weight of
his warning. And I’d be lying if I said this part of him didn’t intimidate the
hell out of me.
“Okay.” I swallowed hard, and his grip on my chin lingered for a few
seconds longer before he let go.
“Good. Now, do you have any idea how unpleasant it is wearing those
ridiculous outfits?”
I smiled with relief at the change of his tone. “They look gorgeous,
though.”
“Have you ever worn one of those Venetian masquerade masks before?”
“No.”
“Consider yourself lucky because it’s uncomfortable as fuck.”
I snickered, and Gian wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me
closer. “I do look forward seeing you in one those elaborate dresses—and
more importantly,” he leaned in and placed a sensual kiss on the swell of my
breast, just above the V-neckline of my shirt, “I can’t wait to tear you out of
it.”
My body shuddered against his, my insides twisting together with the
sexual tension that had intensified threefold after the first time we’d been
together post-Darion. Being with my husband became easier every time, the
dark space in my head growing smaller and less significant. The fear hadn’t
completely subsided, but I was learning how to control it rather than to have
it control me.
I arched my back, pressing my chest out in a bid to give more of me for
him to ravish, his hands slipping down my ass, stirring an insatiable hunger
inside my core.
“I’ve never had you on my desk before.” He kissed along my shoulder
and up my neck. “I think it’s time we remedy that. Maybe get our teacherstudent kink on.”
I laughed and placed my arms around his neck, my hips gently moving
over his lap, feeling his hard cock rub against my sex.
Through the anticipation, darkness slowly crept in, panic reaching toward
my chest with the intention of squeezing the air from my lungs. But I had
learned the only way to conquer the bad was to focus on the good—and being
with my husband like this was better than good.
He peppered kisses all along my jaw, the warmth of his breath against my
neck setting my skin aflame. It was both easy and hard to be with Gian in this
way.
Easy because my body responded to him like I was the waves and he the
shore, luring me close, seducing me until I crashed against his very existence.
Hard because sometimes—just sometimes I could see Darion in his eyes.
His brother. His blood. And my tormentor.
But times like these, while his touch electrified me, it was easier to not
think of the pain. The hurt. The nightmare. It was easy to forget, which was
why I appreciated these moments and grew addicted to being with my
husband.
He made me forget.
“You know, it’s times like these I wish you would wear those pretty
summer dresses and not shorts.” He slipped a finger inside the seam,
touching my inner thigh.
“My plan was to spend the entire day in the garden. If I had known this
was on the agenda, I would have dressed more…appropriately.” My lips
brushed against his ear, and I could hear his breathing deepen.
Heat spread through my core when he traced a finger along the side of my
panties, and I let out a soft whimper.
“Let this be a lesson for you, then.” He placed a kiss below my earlobe.
“Always be ready for me.”
A tremor wracked through my body as anticipation bloomed, the blood in
my veins warm with need. It was so good to be able to feel and experience
pleasure. There was a time when I thought I’d never be able to without
slipping into the past, without being placed back in that cage. But Gian
showed me there was indeed life and love after survival.
His lips found mine with a hungry kiss, and our tongues danced with
passion—exploring, tasting, seducing. I was about to reach between us,
wanting to touch him, when Gabriela called out for help, the sound of panic
echoing in her voice.
My heart stopped, and I froze. I couldn’t move as fear wrapped its icy
claws around every muscle.
“What the fuck?” Gian lifted me off him, setting me down on my feet
before rushing toward the door. It was only when I heard Gabriela’s plea for
help the second time that I managed to move, placing one foot in front of the
other as I followed Gian outside.
“What is going on?” he asked when he almost collided with Irina, who
was on her way in.
“It’s Alessa. She fell.”
“What?” I stepped around Gian. “Where?”
“The garden, by the peonies. Gabriela needs help to pick her up.”
“How…” I ran across the deck and down the steps onto the cobbled
pathway. “Alessa,” I called when I saw her on the ground, Gabriela trying to
pick her up, and her wheelchair toppled over. “What happened?”
“I just, I tried—”
“Gian, help me.” I rushed to her side and placed her arm around my
shoulders, as Gian took Gabriela’s place on the right.
“Easy, now,” he said calmly. “We got you.”
It took every ounce of my strength to help Gian lift Alessa from the
ground. It was like lifting dead weight since Alessa had no means of
supporting herself as we pulled her up.
Gabriela righted the wheelchair, and Gian and I carefully placed Alessa
back onto the chair. My heart pounded with worry, my skin clammy and
cold, and I could feel adrenaline suffocate the oxygen in my body.
“What happened?” I asked as I lifted a leg and placed her foot on one of
the footplates.
“I’m sorry.” She sucked in a breath as tears ran down her cheeks. “I was
trying to—”
“To what?” I demanded. “To walk? Jesus, Alessa. You could have gotten
yourself hurt.”
“I know that.”
“Then how could you—”
“Daniela.” The loud warning that laced his tone caught my attention.
“Calm down.”
I inhaled sharply, needing the air to reach my lungs and calm the panic
that pushed me toward the edge.
Gian gave me a knowing look, and I closed my eyes in a bid to control
my emotions as Alessa’s soft sobs broke my heart into a million pieces. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out.” I crouched in front of her and took her hand.
“It’s just…when I saw you on the ground, I freaked out.”
Alessa wiped at her cheek with her other hand. “I was so sure.” She
seemed confused.
“Sure of what?”
“That I could walk.”
Gian and I glanced at one another, before I focused on Alessa again.
“Why did you think you could walk?”
“I felt it.” She looked at me with eyes that beamed with hope. “I felt the
wind. I felt it against my legs.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But I felt it, I swear.” More tears slipped down her face.
“It was soft and cold against my legs, and I thought…”
My chest ached. “You thought you regained feeling in your legs, and that
you might be able to walk.”
It wasn’t a question, but an observation as I watched my little sister’s sad
expression turn to that of hopelessness.
“Alessa,” I placed my other hand on hers and squeezed it tightly between
my palms, “you can’t take chances like that. You could have gotten yourself
seriously hurt.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why did you—”
“Because I hate this!” she snapped. “I hate sitting in this goddamn chair. I
hate not being able to feel the grass beneath my feet, or to help you plant
these beautiful flowers. And I hate that I have to sit on those ridiculous
plastic chairs while taking a shower, or to have Gabriela help me get
dressed.”
“Alessa.”
“I hate feeling so helpless.” Her shoulders trembled as she cried, the
sound of her sobs carried by the midday breeze. It cracked my chest wide
open to see my sister so broken, so vulnerable. But the worst part was
knowing that there was nothing I could do to help her. I couldn’t protect her
from this pain and the cruel reality that she would never walk again. Never
feel the ocean’s waves crash at her feet, or how the sand would sift between
her toes. My baby sister would never again dance in the rain, and would
forever be haunted by the memory of all the things she could no longer do.
It was impossible to keep my own tears from falling—to stay strong
while I watched my sister break into a thousand pieces. Pieces that would
never be put together again, not while she remained bound to that chair.
“Alessa, I’m so sorry.” I got up and climbed on her lap, wrapping my
arms around her shoulders, trying my best to be the comfort she needed in
that moment. Alessa buried her face in the crook of my neck and allowed her
soul to pour out one tear after the other, mourning the loss of her freedom—
of everything she had lost. Both of us did.
“Maybe we can get a second opinion,” Gian said, standing in front of us
with his hands in his pants pockets. “I’m not saying we’ll get a different
answer, but it’s worth a shot.”
Alessa looked up at him as if he had morphed into her only beacon of
hope. “You think so?”
“You said you felt the breeze against your legs, right?”
“Yes, but it might have been my imagination.” She glanced down.
“Desperation, perhaps.”
“Well, whether it’s imagination or desperation, I think it’s still worth
checking out. I’ll arrange it.”
Gian touch my shoulder, giving me a heartfelt look before he walked off
with Gabriela and Irina, giving Alessa and me some privacy.
There was no telling how much time had passed. Seconds, minutes, hours
—time didn’t matter. All that mattered was being there, holding her, silently
telling her that she could break down, because I’d be there to keep the pieces
together for her.
The sun had disappeared behind gray clouds, the wind growing colder,
icy, carrying the promise of rain which soon poured down on us, soaking
through our clothes, our hair dripping wet.
Raindrops clattered on the cobbled walkway, and Alessa’s sobs subsided
as we listened to the sound of the rain falling around us. She lifted her face
toward the sky, allowing the rain to pour down over her face. I got up and
stood next to her, doing the same, holding out my arms welcoming the
heavens’ water to wash over me.
It was only when I heard Alessa’s laughter that I looked at her, smiling
through her tears as she felt the rain on her face. “I can feel it. I might not be
able to feel my legs, but I can feel the rain.”
I sucked in a breath, her words reminding me of a time when I thought I
could no longer feel. That was when I realized that our trauma might be
different, our grief divergent. But our sense of loss was the same. She had
lost a piece of herself just as I had. A piece we’d never get back, leaving us
with a hole we’d have to live with for the rest of our lives. A hole that would
always be there, no matter how many times we laughed or smiled. It would
never go away, but simply become easier to live with.
Her soft laughter combined with the pitter-patter of the rain on the leaves
and cobbled walkway was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. It was
the sound of hope.
It was one of those moments when you realized that no matter how
broken you were, there was still beauty to be found. There was always
something worth smiling for. No matter how dark it was around you, as long
as you kept your eyes on the glimmer of light—no matter how small—the
darkness would never drown you.
Chapter Fifteen
Carnivale di Venezia.
It was the one event my family was known for. My parents spared no
expense, making sure it was the social event of the year every year.
Masks. Costumes. Color. Lights. It was far beyond extravagant.
Daniela came walking out of the bathroom dressed in a white robe with
droplets of water still clinging to her flawless skin. It shimmered on her chest
under the dim light of the bedroom, teasing the fuck out of me. It amazed me
how the more I had her, the more I felt her come apart around my cock, the
more I fucking wanted her.
“So, tell me a bit more about this Carnivale.” She leaned against the
dresser, towel drying her hair.
I turned my attention to the costume she had picked for me, knowing all
too well how fucking uncomfortable these things were, along with the stupid
masks.
“Well,” I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the bed,
“according to legend, the Carnival of Venice started after the Venetian
Republic declared victory over the Patriarch of Aquileia in 1162.”
“So, it’s a victory celebration?”
“Something like that. People gathered in San Marco Square, celebrating
and dancing, and by the seventeenth century it became official. But the
celebration was outlawed in 1797 under the rule of the Holy Roman Emperor
who forbade the use of masks.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. I think I fell asleep when my father told us that part.”
She laughed and picked up the white porcelain mask shaped like a heart
with shimmering gold around the edges, blood-red lips, and intricate black
filigree patterns painted around the eye openings. “Why the masks, though?”
I turned to face her. “I don’t think anyone is quite sure what the real story
is behind the masks, but some say it was because Venice had one of the most
rigid class hierarchies in Europe, and at Carnivale everyone had the chance to
dress up without following the rules set down for their social class.”
She traced her finger around the edge of the mask. “It was one night
everyone hid behind their masks, pretending to be something they weren’t.”
“Probably. It would explain why this party is so important for my family.
Only difference is, it’s the one night they don’t pretend, showing how truly
wicked they are.”
“I guess I can say the same for my parents, too. Especially my dad.” She
placed the mask down, a faraway expression on her face as she stared down
at it. “No wonder they loved attending it each year. My dad isn’t one of the
good guys,” she glanced at me, “is he?”
It tugged at my heart, seeing how the thought saddened her. It pissed me
the fuck off that Emilio didn’t have the decency to be there for his daughters,
and his wife was a fucking coward, always doing as she was told—like a
fucking bitch on a leash. They didn’t care about anything but themselves, and
I hated that I knew the extent of that truth—another thing I had to protect
Daniela from.
“Your dad is a,” I searched for the right word, “complicated man.”
She scoffed. “Complicated? I remember the time you told me how my
father and grandfather built their empire on the perversion of—how did you
put it?—sick fuckers like themselves.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, remembering that conversation like it took place
yesterday, on the staircase after our first dinner as husband and wife. Every
word I spat out that night was meant to cut and wound. “I was angry,” I
responded. “I said things I shouldn’t have said.”
“But it was the truth…wasn’t it? That my father needed the help of your
family to bury his sins?”
I sighed and brushed my palm down my face. “Like I said, it’s
complicated.”
She bit her bottom lip, and I could hear the wheels turning inside her
head, those wet red curls of hers framing her beautiful face. “What is it?” she
asked, staring at me with caution. “What are their sins you referred to?”
I shook my head. “This is most definitely a conversation for another day.”
The last thing Daniela needed now was to know how deep shit ran with her
father, how close her family was to her own nightmare. Telling her the truth
would only set her back, and I wasn’t sure she’d ever find her way back from
that.
“Please tell me.” Even though she begged me to tell her, there was
hesitation in her voice, caution, as if she too feared the aftermath of knowing
the truth.
“Listen to me,” I placed my palms on her cheeks, cupping her face as I
forced her to look me in the eye, “the sins of your father aren’t yours. He has
made it crystal clear how he felt about you and Alessa, and about what
happened. So, whatever your father chooses to pave his path to hell with, it’s
not your demon to carry.” I kissed her forehead. “Trust me, it’s not worth it.”
She placed her hands on mine, closing her eyes as she leaned into me.
The silence that settled between us was a sign that this matter was settled, this
conversation buried, never to be dug up again.
“I love you, Daniela. And everything I do is because of that love.” I lifted
her chin, claiming her lips with a tender kiss, allowing it to linger for a
moment before pulling back an inch. “It’s just us now. The world out there
no longer matters. It can all burn down around us. I don’t care. As long as I
have all of you, and you accept all of me, that’s all that fucking matters.
Okay?”
She smiled, and I was convinced it could conquer world hunger, bring
world peace, and cure global warming because, by God, it disarmed me. I had
to remind myself that I had balls, and it would be detrimental to my ego if I
had to melt into a puddle of pathetic manhood simply because my wife had
the smile of an angel.
“So,” I turned and faced the hideous monstrosity that was my costume for
the evening, “do you have any idea how I loathe these outfits?”
Daniela sauntered over to the clothing bag which hung in front of her
closet and pulled out a dress made of layers of red silk, black lace, and gold
embroidery on the bodice. She held the dress in front of her, and I could see
the excitement beam from her eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think for the first time I might actually find these Venetian masquerade
dresses alluring.” I narrowed my eyes as I studied her. “But are you sure
about this?”
“About what? The dress? Don’t you like it?”
“No. I do. I mean…going to this party.”
“Of course, I am.” She placed the dress down on the bed. “I get why
you’re worried. But life goes on, Gian. I need to go on. Darion is gone, and
whether your father believes us or not is irrelevant.” She stepped closer and
stared up at me. “What does matter is that we show your family and this
community that you and I stand together as one, and nothing they do can
change that.”
“I agree, but this is the first time you’ll be around all of them since…” I
trailed off. “Are you sure you’re ready? Because I can cancel this evening’s
plans with the greatest of pleasure.”
“Even though that is…oddly sweet of you, I promise you I’m fine.”
I touched her cheek and leaned my head to the side. “At the risk of
sounding like a selfish bastard, which I am, keeping you safe and out of
harm’s way is more important to me than anything.”
A sullen expression settled on pretty features, and she glanced down at
her thumbs, nervously twirling. “I know we said we’ll discuss what we’re
going to do regarding our future at a later stage. But I need you to know,” she
glanced up me, “I won’t be able to live with myself if I knew my protection
came at the hefty price of so many girls’ suffering.”
It was there in her eyes, her desperate plea for me to reconsider what she
knew I had already chosen. No matter whether I agreed to discussing it at a
later stage, my mind was already made up. She knew it. I knew it. It was
simple. I would pack up and leave my family behind without a second
thought. I’d give up everything for this woman. But I loved her even more for
her pure heart and selfless soul—always putting others first, even if it meant
her life would be in danger.
I brushed the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip. “I failed you once,
but you can be sure I will never fail you again.”
“You didn’t fail me,” she whispered, taking my hand and placing a tender
kiss in my palm. “You saved me, remember?”
“You shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place.” Regret sawed
through my chest, clawing at my heart. There was nothing I wouldn’t do if it
meant I could erase her pain, wipe out the memories, and chase away the
nightmares. I would happily remove myself from her life if it meant she’d
have peace.
“Stop. Dwelling in the past won’t change it. But it will alter our future.”
I stepped up close, taking both her hands in mine. “Right now, the only
future I want is the one with you in it. Safe and protected.” I kissed her hands.
“Just know that I would gladly fight hell during the day as long as I know I
get to hold you in my arms at night.”
Her cheeks flushed a healthy pink, and I loved the thought of being the
one to make her blush. “Tomorrow we can fight hell,” she said with a smile.
“But tonight we wear our masks as if victory is already ours.”
Chapter Sixteen
Fuck me. My wife was a vision in red.
The dress fit her perfectly, her natural elegance enhancing the striking
color of the ballgown. The matching crimson cape was draped over her red
locks, adding a sense of flair and mystery to her costume. I never liked these
ridiculous outfits, but tonight I fucking loved it.
“Don’t you look dapper,” she remarked with a smirk, holding her mask in
one hand.
I lightly rubbed against the black waistcoat adorned with gold embroidery
to match my all-gold mask. “I can live with the cape, but is the bowtie really
necessary?”
She reached up and straightened the black bowtie. “Sometimes it’s the
finishing touches that matter the most.” With a wink, she turned and headed
toward the limousine, leaving me behind so I could watch the way she
swayed her hips. It amazed me to witness how far she had come—from the
broken woman I found chained up and hanging from a ceiling, to the
confident woman I knew she was. Not everyone was strong enough to make
such a remarkable recovery. Some girls we had rescued went into therapy,
some reached to drugs to ease the pain, while others took their own lives,
seeing it as the only way to escape the memories. Only a few recovered
enough for them to be able to move on and live something that resembled a
normal life.
I thanked God that my wife was among the latter.
On our drive to my parents’ estate, she silently sat and stared out the
heavily tinted windows. The streetlights we passed flashed on the other side
of the glass, painting her face with moving shadows. Even cast in darkness
she was still beautiful. Light. Pure. Not even Darion’s evil was powerful
enough to corrupt it.
I glanced at the screen that separated us from the driver, giving us the
privacy I suddenly craved. I shifted and reached out, wrapping my fingers
around the back of her neck as I pulled her closer. A soft gasp rolled from her
lips, and I drowned it out with my own, kissing her hard, making my
intentions known as I swept my tongue to every corner of her mouth.
Sex was no longer a trigger for her, but I still treaded on the side of
caution, looking for signs that told me she was uncomfortable with my touch.
But right now, I was consumed with the need to take her without hesitation.
Without thinking about anything other than fucking my wife. I wanted it raw.
Primal. Out of control. And by the way her tongue dueled with mine, I was
sure she felt the same.
“Lift your skirt,” I ordered, slipping my hand from her neck to feel her
throat bob as she swallowed.
She bit her lower lip as her fingers gripped the fabric of her dress, slowly
winding up the layers of silk and lace.
I glanced down as she exposed her leg, her thigh, teasing me with her
unhurried display while my cock grew harder by the second.
Like a fucking king on his throne, I leaned back, scrutinizing her every
move, drinking her in as the tension thickened. “Take off your panties.”
“Who says I’m wearing any?” A seductive grin tugged at the corners of
the plush red lips, causing my fucking groin to ache with the need to fuck.
Intrigued, I tilted my head to the side, witnessing her perfectly flawed
irises go dark with arousal. Her cheeks were painted in the most alluring
shade of pink as she proved to me that she was, in fact, not wearing any
panties by spreading her legs and allowing me a glimpse of that which I
craved the most.
“You’re not wearing underwear.” I stated the obvious.
“You assumed that I did?”
I brushed my fingers across my jaw, unable to take my eyes off her. “Are
you saying that you got in the back of this limousine with the intention that
I’ll claim you right here on the back seat?”
“A girl can hope.” Her lips parted as she let out a breath, my cock
pressing painfully against the zipper of my pants. But I wanted to savor this
moment, enjoy it to the fullest by letting it continue for as long as fucking
possible.
I glanced at her leg and started to trace my fingertips up her outer thigh,
drawing lazy circles across her flesh. The need to rush grew stronger, but I
held on to every last shred of self-control I had, wanting to enjoy touching
my wife, relishing her beauty.
The air around us was palpable, the sexual tension about to fucking snap.
Her lips beckoned me to touch them, and I dragged the pad of my thumb
down her bottom lip, forcing her mouth to form the perfect O.
“I need you, Faye. Rough. Hard.” I wrapped my fingers around the base
of her delicate throat, feeling the way her heart raced, brushing my thumb
across her heated skin. “If you have any problem with that, now is your only
chance to stop me.” I added a little pressure, squeezing just a little. “Speak
now, or forever hold your peace.”
He was giving me this one and only chance to say if I wasn’t ready.
While I sat there, his amber eyes bored into mine. I could see the
darkness of his most primal desire. I could feel it caressing my skin, staining
the air I breathed. It was all around me, enveloping me. Seducing me.
This was the Gian I married. The predator. The king who craved the
freedom of taking what he wanted, when he wanted, and not having to care
about whether his wife could handle it or not. But judging by the way I
clenched my thighs with ignited desire, I was sure I could. I might even have
craved it more than he did.
Lifting my chin in defiance as I stared him in the eye, I placed my hand
on his and dragged it down my bodice, lifting the fabric of my dress with the
other, and guiding it between my legs. “Why don’t you tell me if I have a
problem with that.”
It was a challenge, as well as an invitation since I knew very well what
he’d find between my legs.
His amber eyes swirled with fire, his expression that of a man who craved
sin. A man who would never repent for giving in to his most basic instinct.
To hunt.
With his palm against my sex, he leaned forward, bringing his lips inches
from mine.
Abruptly, he reached and fisted my hair. “That was your last chance,
Faye.”
He pulled his hand from between my legs and unzipped his pants, the
sound slicing through the air thick with sexual tension, crackling with a kind
of energy I hadn’t felt in a long time. I wanted to drown it. I wanted to lose
myself in it. In him.
Desire shot up my spine when he pulled out his cock, gliding his palm up
and down his hard length before he grabbed my waist, lifted me up and onto
him, my back against his chest.
Strong arms snaked around my chest, his touch igniting flames across my
skin. Every nerve in my body was set alight, and I gasped as his hand
wrapped around my throat.
“Lift your hips,” he ordered, and I obeyed, feeling him reach between us.
“Lower that cunt of yours over my cock,” he rasped against my ear, and I
closed my eyes—anticipating, needing, craving. The second I found his cock
nudge at my entrance, I held my breath, biting my bottom lip. There was no
darkness. No demons waiting in the shadows. There was only this allconsuming need to be used by my husband, to be burned by the fire that
raged between us.
I lowered myself onto him, taking all of him, deep and slow. He hissed as
I rolled my hips, tightening his hold around my throat, pulling me back
against his chest. The way his body trembled, his rapid breaths coating my
cheek, I knew he needed more. Harder. Faster. But I kept a steady rhythm,
moving with the intent to tease.
“I know what you’re doing, Faye,” he whispered against my ear. “Are
you sure you’re ready to tempt the devil?”
“More than ready.”
My words had barely left my mouth when he bent me forward, forcing
me to steady myself with my palms on his knees. His hips moved beneath
me, one hard thrust after the other, plunging into me incessantly.
Layers of silk fell around my thighs, my moans filling the back of the
limousine. Pleasure surged through my veins as he hit my core over and over
again. The way he filled me, stretched me, fucked me, it was primal and out
of control…and I fucking loved it.
My red curls bounced around my face, my carefully pinned updo now a
ravaged mess.
His arm slipped around my waist, reaching between my legs, and I had to
stop myself from tearing the goddamn dress off me to get rid of the silk and
lace that fell in the way.
“I want to ask you if you’re okay,” he started, “but I don’t think I’d be
able to stop if you said you weren’t.”
His hand palmed my sex, and I cried out the moment the pad of his finger
found my clit, pressing hard, massaging that one spot as if it meant death if
he didn’t.
“Harder,” I demanded, and he obliged so goddamn willingly, pushing me
closer to the edge with every thrust of his hips, every circle of his finger.
It started at the base of my neck, the surge of pleasure that flowed down
my spine, spreading to every muscle. There was no warning as my climax
tore through me, and I reached out, placing my palm against the heavily
tinted window, my body matching Gian’s ruthless thrusts, our bodies moving
toward its reward.
A moan ripped from my throat as I exploded into fragments of pleasure
that completely possessed me. Ecstasy filled every bone and my muscles
trembled.
“There she is,” he whispered. “My Daniela.”
His hand disappeared from between my legs, and he gripped my waist on
both sides, fingers biting into my flesh, forcing me to ride his cock as hard
and fast as he fucked me from behind.
A low, guttural moan tore from his throat as he came inside me, my walls
throbbing around his jerking cock.
I fell back against him, spent and out of breath, my mind a haze of
incoherent thoughts. But there was one thing that had finally slipped into
place. After all this time, things finally felt right. We felt right.
Chapter Seventeen
The Silvestro estate garden was transformed into a carnival Utopia ablaze
with color and what seemed like a thousand lights. A giant red and white
marquee tent was erected at the far end, the open sides allowing you to see
the guests dancing and laughing.
As far as the eye could see, glamor and wealth touched every corner of
the estate while music filled the night sky as the Venice inspired décor
brought the romance the city was known for to life.
Masses of people stood around in their extravagant costumes, men
wearing their capes and wigs, while women sauntered around in their elegant
dresses. Some were simple yet exquisite with gold and white designs, while
others were bold with a rainbow of deep and rich colors. But it was the
porcelain masks that turned a masquerade ball into the Carnivale di Venezia.
Gian and I leisurely made our way through the crowd of masked people.
The tables were elegantly decorated with royal blue overlays and gilt edges.
Large crystal vases each displayed black and gold feathered masks, creating
the illusion of trapped mystery and allure.
“I told you my family used this one event to flaunt their money in
everyone’s faces.”
My gaze swept around, taking it all in. “Well, they did a fantastic job
flaunting it. But I have to say,” I glanced at all the masked faces, “it is kind of
daunting seeing all these masks and not knowing the face behind it.”
Gian pressed my hand tighter between his elbow and side. “Remember,”
he leaned closer, “by my side at all times. Fuck.”
“What is it?
“See that three-faced mask there by the champagne fountain?”
I searched the crowd. “Yes.”
“That’s my father. He wears that same damn mask every year.”
“Okay, now, that is one freaky looking mask.” No matter which way he
turned his head, one of the three faces looked in your direction.
“That mask haunted my nightmares for years when I was a child.”
I frowned while I still stared at the sight. “I can see why.”
“Come on.” He guided us through the crowd away from his dad. “Let’s
see if we can manage to avoid him the entire night.”
“I think there’s a good chance we will since it’s impossible to recognize
anyone here.”
Gian scoffed. “Believe me, my father’s like a fucking bloodhound. He’ll
sniff us out. Besides,” he gave me sideway glance, “with your distinctive red
hair, how can he miss you?”
“If someone didn’t ruin my up-do I could have easily hidden it under my
cape.”
“What can I say?” He shot me a mischievous grin. “I fucking love those
red locks. Especially when splayed over my pillow or wound up tight around
my fist.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, and Gian chuckled while grabbing us both a
glass of champagne as a waiter walked by dressed in black and white striped
pants, no shirt, and a red bowtie to match the red porcelain mask he wore.
“Gian, is that you?”
“Fuck me. Told you,” he muttered before turning to greet his father.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Well, well, well. I have to admit, I was slightly surprised to see your
name on the confirmed guestlist.” Mr. Silvestro stepped up with a glass of
champagne in his hand.
“Were we not invited?”
“Oh, you were. I just didn’t think you’d come.”
All I could see was his eyes as he looked my way. “Daniela?”
I lowered my mask and smiled as politely as I could. “Hello, Mr.
Silvestro.”
“You look absolutely stunning in red. How are you? How is Alessa?”
My stomach turned when he mentioned my sister’s name, his words
lacking genuine compassion. “We are all doing fine. Thank you for asking.”
“Gian,” again, I could only see his eyes as he glanced at my husband,
“could I have a word?”
“Can it not wait until after the festivities?” Gian placed an arm around my
waist. “I’d hate to leave my wife unattended within this sea of people.”
“It will only take a minute.”
It was quite unsettling to not be able to see someone’s face while they
talked to you. Now that I was unable to read Mr. Silvestro’s expression, I
realized how heavily a conversation relied on reading the faces of others.
“It can wait until morning,” Gian replied stiffly, tightening his hold
around me. I could practically feel the annoyance vibrate off him.
I leaned closer. “I’ll be fine. Go talk to your dad.”
“Not a chance.”
“I’m serious. I’ll stay right here and won’t move a muscle.”
Gian glanced from his father to me, then back at his father. “You have
two minutes, and whatever you need to discuss better be something you can
discuss a few feet from this very spot. I’d like to keep my wife in view since
you never know what kind of psychopaths walk among us.”
It was a direct stab at the truth about his brother, and the way his father
remained still as if frozen, I knew there was no smile hiding behind that
three-faced mask.
Gian placed a chaste kiss on my temple and walked no more than a few
feet from where I stood. But with the bustle of the crowd and the beat of the
music, it was impossible to hear their conversation, even though I had an
inkling of what the topic would be.
I watched as Gian and his father stood close, immersed in what seemed
like a heated discussion. The tension that rolled off Gian was unmissable.
Both he and his father had removed their masks, and it was easy to see the
animosity that pulsed like a disease between them.
Nerves twinged in the pit of my stomach as I watched my husband, and I
could only imagine what words were being said.
Parched and nervous, I took a sip of my champagne when someone
bumped into me from behind, causing me to spill half the glass down the
front of my dress.
“I’m so sorry.” The low, husky male voice caused a shiver to travel down
my spine, cold hands touching my shoulders. “Again, I apologize.”
That voice sent ice through my veins, and I stopped breathing when I
looked up at the masked face, instantly recognizing the eyes that stared back
at me.
It can’t be.
“Darion,” I whispered, but he had already disappeared into the crowd.
It felt like every drop of blood drained from my body. Instantly,
everything was cold, and panic forced all the air from my lungs. I couldn’t
breathe. I couldn’t focus. My mind rushed while the world around me stood
still.
There was no music. No voices. No sound except for the loud beat of my
own heart that thumped between my ears.
“Daniela?”
I spun around, frantically searching the crowd.
“Daniela?” A hand touched my elbow, and I shrieked, swallowing air
with a desperate gulp. “Are you okay?”
My pulse raced as I glanced up at Gian, looking down at me with worry
lines on his face. “Jesus, you’re as pale as a ghost. You okay?”
“I…” My mind couldn’t form a single coherent thought. “I just…” My
gaze cut to every corner, drifting along the crowd. “Um…” I touched my
forehead, my skin ice-cold, yet sweat beaded at my hairline.
“Daniela, it’s okay. Breathe. What happened?” Gian studied me,
eyebrows slanted inward, and I finally managed to take a deep breath when I
settled my focus on him.
“I…um,” I took another breath as reality seeped through the panic, slowly
causing it to dissipate. “I’m fine. I just thought…”
“Thought what?” He leaned down and cupped my cheek. “Are you sure
you’re okay? You’re ice-cold.”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Um…someone bumped into me, and I had a fright.
That’s all.”
“Who bumped into you?”
“No one.” I wiped my forehead. “I mean, someone. I just…I don’t know
who with all these masked faces.”
He eased his hands down my shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“No. No, I’m fine.” I inhaled deeply, allowing the air to fill my lungs. “I
could use another glass of champagne since I spilled it all on my dress.”
Gian glanced at the wet stain on my costume. “You want to get that
cleaned up?”
“Yes, please.”
“Come on,” he took my hand in his, “I’ll take you to the powder room
inside the house.”
The number of guests had about doubled since we arrived, and it was like
a maze of people we had to find our way through. And the more we
maneuvered through the crowd, the stronger my anxiety became, making it
increasingly difficult to take a normal breath.
Gian’s grip on my hand tightened as we broke through the crowd, and my
heels clicked across the stone walkway up to the house.
I had been in the Silvestro mansion before on one occasion with my
parents a few years back. I remembered thinking how much I loved the
Italian renaissance interior and classical architecture elements.
Gian took me around back, up a flight of stairs, and we entered the large
dining room. Or rather, one of the dining rooms which featured richly carved
wood furniture. The high ceilings created the illusion of wide-open spaces,
and I could smell the potent scent of pine furniture polish. The room was
immaculate, everything neatly in its place. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say
this room had stayed undisturbed for a century.
“Through there is a bathroom.” Gian pointed at an arched door across the
hall from the dining room. “I’ll wait here.”
“Okay.” I smiled and quickly went through the wooden door carved with
an intricate floral design.
As my heels touched the tiled floor and the door closed behind me, I
stilled to admire the powder room, which was as flawless in design as the rest
of the house. Two oval mirrors with gilded frames adorned the walls above
the refined washstands with white marbled edges. The lighting caught every
finishing and gold trimming perfectly, illuminating the elegance, while the
subtle scent of vanilla enhanced the cleanliness of the environment.
I took one of the rolled-up fabric cloths and dampened it under the faucet,
lightly dabbing it against my champagne-stained dress. Once I cleaned it as
best I could, I placed the wet cloth behind my neck, trying to cool down even
though my skin had been ice-cold no more than ten minutes ago.
There was no rhyme or reason for what happened, for me seeing Darion’s
eyes behind a stranger’s mask. It was like a moment of insanity possessed
me, and my nightmares stormed to the forefront like a raging bull provoked
with red.
It had been so long since I had something that resembled a PTSD episode,
and I had forgotten how a split second of the past crashing back could knock
you on your ass.
I wiped the cloth down the side of my neck and welcomed the cold
against my heated flesh. I hung my head down, eyes closed, and focused on
taking a few deep breaths, envisioning how it filled my lungs to capacity.
When anxiety spiked, the quickest cure was rhythmic breathing and
calming thoughts.
Finally, my pulse settled, and I tossed the cloth into a cane basket.
“I’ve been waiting for you, my pretty little plaything.”
Horror slammed against my spine, and my gaze cut to the mirror, a
masked man looking back at me. A scream ripped from my throat, and I
grabbed the edge of the washstand. The man was gone, vanished, but I
couldn’t stop screaming.
It was him. I knew it was.
Gian came storming in. “Daniela!”
My screams continued to slam against the ceiling, hysterical sobs tearing
from my chest. I could no longer stand as fear gripped every muscle in my
body, and I collapsed to the floor.
“Jesus, Daniela!” Gian rushed across the tiled floor, throwing his mask on
the ground. The sickening crack and splatter of broken porcelain resonated,
almost like the sound of my ribs cracking under the pressure of fear. He
wrapped his arms around my shoulders, but all I could think about, all I could
see was him. Darion. His eyes. His voice.
My pretty little plaything.
“It’s him,” I cried. “It’s him. He was here.”
“Who?” Gian crouched and tried to force me to look at him. “Daniela,
who are you talking about?”
“Darion.” Saying his name out loud was like vomiting shards of glass.
“He was here.”
Gian gripped my shoulders. “That’s impossible, Daniela. Darion is dead.”
I shook my head, tears still streaming down my face. “He’s here. I saw
him outside—”
“What do you mean you saw him outside?”
“The man…” I struggled to breathe. “The man who bumped into me, I
was sure it was him. I saw his eyes. Heard his voice.” My thoughts raced as I
closed my eyes, trying to think and hoping like hell I was wrong. “He was
here…in here. I’m sure of it.”
“Daniela, listen to me. Okay? Look at me!” Gian grabbed my cheeks and
forced me to look at him. “Darion is dead. He’s not here.”
“No.” I sucked in a breath, shaking my head, my entire body trembling.
“He was here. I saw him.”
“That’s impossible. There is no way Darion can be here.” He tried to pull
me up, but I jerked back. I didn’t want to go anywhere, the fear completely
consuming me.
“I saw him,” I muttered and scrambled back, pressing my body hard
against the wall. “He’s here.”
“No,” Gian said softly.
“I know his voice, Gian. I know his eyes.” Finally, I met Gian’s gaze. “I
know him.”
“Listen to me,” he pulled his palm down his face, “he’s dead. I killed
him, remember?” He scooted closer on his knees. “I locked him in that cage
and set him on fire. I burned the entire goddamn building down along with
him.”
No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Something was wrong. I knew it
was Darion; I heard his voice and saw his eyes.
Carefully, Gian reached out to me. “Darion is nothing but ash, I promise
you that.”
“Did you stay to watch him burn? Did you see him die?” Desperation
weaved its poison tentacles around my words, my voice shaking with fear.
Gian sucked on his bottom lip, the look in his eyes telling me I wasn’t
going to like his answer. “No,” he breathed. “I soaked the place in accelerant,
and the flames erupted real fast. Daniela,” he pinned his gaze on mine,
“there’s no way my brother survived.”
My thoughts scrambled, my mind trying to make sense of what was
happening. Everything felt so surreal, like I somehow shifted to a different
reality, one where everything was a haze of vague memories and faded
images.
Words.
Voices.
Pain.
Flames. The cage. The glint of a key.
And like a tidal wave, reality crashed and cracked through the chaos.
“The key,” I mumbled under my breath. “He had the key.”
“What key?”
Abruptly, I shot up to my knees and grabbed Gian’s jacket collar. “He
had a…a…” I struggled to get the words out while choked with the mayhem
of racing thoughts and palpitating fear. “Um…a key. Darion had a key.”
“What key, Daniela?”
“The key to the cage. Did he have the key?”
“I don’t—”
“Around his neck,” I blurted. “He always kept the key around his neck.” I
stilled, my panicked gaze locked on my husband’s while I stopped fucking
breathing. “Tell me you took the key.”
Gian didn’t move. He didn’t even attempt to speak.
“Tell me you took the key, Gian. Tell me you took the goddamn key!”
He stared at me for mere seconds then pulled a hand through his hair
before straightening. “Jesus Christ.”
“Gian, tell me you took the key?” I managed to get up to my feet, and I
could feel how my heart crept up my throat little by little, making it
increasingly hard to breathe while my pulse raced at a thousand beats per
second.
“I didn’t…” He looked my way. “There was no key, Daniela.”
“No,” I breathed out. “He always carried that key with him. Around his
neck. Always.”
The weight that slammed against my shoulders was indescribable as I
watched Gian pace with his racing thoughts.
“You left,” I started. “You walked out after you set it on fire, so how do
you know he’s actually dead?”
“There’s no way he would have made it out of there in time.”
“You don’t know that.” God, my worst nightmare was taking place, and I
was currently smack-bang in the middle of it. No matter which way I turned,
there was no getting out of it.
“Did you find his body?”
“Jesus, Daniela. I burned the fucker alive. What was there to find?”
“I don’t know. Bones? Teeth? Something to prove that he’s dead.”
“No.” Gian shook his head. “We made it look like an electrical
malfunction. We couldn’t dig around too much and risk having the truth of
what really happened come to light. And as far as we know, nothing was
found.”
My knees threatened to give way beneath me, and I was two breaths away
from choking on my own bile. “If there was no body, there’s no way of
knowing whether he could have gotten out in time or not.” I stilled, chills
crawling all over my body, the spark of fear in my belly now a raging fire.
“Darion could be alive.” The penny dropped, and like a fucking anchor it
pulled me down, back to that hell I thought I had escaped.
Gian ripped the bowtie from around his neck and loosened the top button.
“Are you sure it was him? Did you see his face?”
“I…no, I didn’t see his face. He was wearing a mask. But I know it was
him. I saw his eyes and heard his voice.”
“What did he say to you?”
I swallowed hard like I had just gnawed through wood and had to get the
splinters down. “He said…” Jesus, I couldn’t get it out.
“What did he say, Daniela?” Gian walked up to me, and I fell back
against the wall, my legs no longer strong enough to keep my weight.
“He said…” I looked at Gian. “I’ve been waiting for you…my pretty little
plaything.”
Chapter Eighteen
If fear had a face, it would be that of my wife’s right now. Sharp edges of
terror at every curve, pale, sullen, yet strong enough to debilitate any man. To
witness the horror in her eyes was like a knife to the jugular. It was fucking
daunting, realizing how much fear the idea of my brother incited within her.
As adrenaline surged through my veins, my thoughts scattered as I tried
to make sense of what the fuck was happening. My wife stood in the corner,
back against the wall as if she tried to make herself smaller.
Jesus Christ.
“Daniela—”
“He’s here, Gian. You have to believe me.”
I pulled a palm down my face, trying to think rationally. The entire
building burned down that night. As far we knew, no remains were found. It
was highly un-fucking-likely, but not impossible that Darion managed to
escape.
I reached for Daniela. “Come on, we need to get you out of here.”
“No.” She shook her head, red curls bouncing around her face in disarray.
“I’m not going out there.”
“Listen to me, no one will touch you. I’m here.”
“No. I don’t want to leave.”
God, the fear completely consumed her. Within the blink of a fucking
eye, she turned back into the scared, broken woman I found in that basement.
But I had to get her out of here, especially if there was just half a chance of
what she saw was real.
“Daniela.” I tried reaching for her, but she screamed at the top of her
lungs, the most gut-wrenching cries ripping from her throat. “Daniela, look at
me. Look at me!” I struggled to get her still as she fought me, her arms
flailing, nails scratching.
“Stop! Look at me!”
I gripped both her elbows and secured her against my chest, forcing her to
take a breath and look at me. “I’m getting you out of here. No one is going to
hurt you.”
“Please,” she cried. “Please don’t let him hurt me again.”
Jesus fucking Christ. My heart all but cracked wide open, bleeding out of
my motherfucking chest while my wife’s tears stained her pale cheeks.
I cupped her face. “I swear on my life that he won’t ever hurt you again. I
swear it, okay? You have to trust me to get you as far away from here as
possible.”
“He won’t stop,” she whispered, choking on her words. “He’s alive, Gian.
Your brother, he won’t stop until he has me again.”
“Over my dead fucking body. Come on.” I draped my arm around her
shoulders and all but dragged her out of the bathroom and into the hall.
Adrenaline flooded my system as I rushed through the dining room, eyes
rapidly scanning every corner. My only concern was getting my wife the fuck
out of there. But her legs were so weak, she kept stumbling, looking back
over her shoulder.
“Daniela, come on.”
We rushed out the back door and across the walkway when my father
approached us. “Gian, what is going on? Guests are complaining that they
heard screams. Is she okay?”
Anger erupted, and as we passed him, I let go of Daniela and grabbed my
father by his collar, pulling him close, and pushing my face in his. “Is he
alive?”
“What are you—”
I tore the mask from his face and threw it to the ground. “Darion. Is he
alive?”
“Gian, calm the hell down.” He tried to get out of my grasp, but I merely
tightened my hold.
“Is Darion alive?” My voice boomed through the night sky, and I didn’t
give a flying fuck that half the guests had turned to see what the commotion
was. “Tell me, Father. Is my brother alive? And do not fucking lie to me.”
“Of course, he’s alive,” he stuttered, and my heart all but stopped fucking
beating. “Why wouldn’t he be? Your brother is missing, Gian. Not dead.
Now, take your goddamn hands off me.”
“That’s not—” I let go of him with a shove and stepped back. My father
didn’t know I killed Darion. According to him, Darion was only missing, but
not dead.
“Jesus, Gian.” He straightened his jacket. “What the hell is going on?”
“Darion.”
“What about him?”
I glanced from left to right, across the sea of masks—some staring our
way while others continued the festivities without blinking in our direction.
“Never mind. Daniela and I are leaving.”
My father looked over my shoulder. “Where is Daniela?”
I turned around as panic soared, my pulse beating like a fucking drum.
“Daniela?” But she was nowhere. Gone. Like she just fucking vanished.
“Daniela!” I called and ran back into the house. “Daniela! Where are you?”
My heart pounded against my ribs, clawing at the bone as I frantically
rushed through the dining room. Everything turned to red, saliva thickening
in my throat with every second that passed without knowing where my wife
was.
I rounded the corner with every intention of sweeping through the entire
goddamn house in search of her when I saw her standing at the end of the
hall. Frozen, with only her bottom lip trembling.
“Daniela.” I lowered my voice, desperately trying to remain calm. “What
—”
“Hello, brother.”
Behind her, a figure appeared, and my blood ran cold when I realized
who it was. “Darion.”
As if someone had pressed the goddamn slow-motion button on reality,
he removed the mask, and I was still struggling to make sense of what the
fuck was happening when he turned, showing the burnt and marred flesh on
the right side of his face.
“How—”
“How am I alive? Like your wife said.” He reached out, revealing a key
in his palm. “I never go anywhere without the key.”
“Let her go.” I didn’t give a shit about any type of explanation. All I
cared about was getting Daniela as far away from him as possible. “Let her
go now, or I swear to God—”
“What?” Darion challenged, before placing a hand on her shoulder,
gently easing her curls back to expose her neck.
She closed her eyes, her entire body trembling as whimpers slipped from
her lips pulled in a thin line.
My father came rushing around the corner only to stop abruptly when he
saw Darion standing behind Daniela. “Jesus, Darion. What are you doing?”
“Oh, stop,” Darion muttered, and my heart fucking imploded when he
held up a gun and scratched his temple like a fucking lunatic. “Just tell him,
Dad.”
I glanced at my father and back at Darion. “Tell me what?”
“Darion,” my father warned sternly, his eyes black and threatening as he
stared at my brother. “Put the gun down and let the girl go.”
Maniacal laughter echoed down the hall as Darion bellowed like a
fucking psycho. “Don’t you see, Father? This is all about her.” He traced the
muzzle of the gun down the side of her face. “It’s always been about her.”
“Jesus Christ, Darion. Stop this damn charade,” my father ordered, and I
slowly started toward Darion, trying my best to ignore the instinct in me to
run and snatch my wife away from him. I didn’t give a shit about any
explanation, or whatever the fuck was going on. I just wanted Daniela out of
here.
“Let her go, and we can sort this out like men,” I said calmly. Meanwhile,
the flames of hell were fucking burning down my spine.
“Men?” Darion scoffed. “Did you want to sort it out like men the day you
locked me in that cage and tried to fucking fry me like a Sunday dinner?”
“You hurt her, Darion. You damn well nearly killed my wife. What did
you expect me to do? Write you a motherfucking thank you note?”
“Hurt her?” Another maniacal cackle erupted. “Dear brother, when will
you realize that everything I did to your wife,” he pressed his nose below her
ear and made a huge goddamn show of smelling her, “she fucking enjoyed as
much as I did.”
A roar tore from my chest as I launched myself at him, knocking Daniela
out of the way and ramming him through one of the doors, wood cracking,
breaking and splintering as we fell into one of the study rooms. Like a rabid
fucking dog, I went for his throat, wanting to tear it out and pull his
motherfucking lungs from his body.
Daniela shrieked and cried as she fell to the ground, scrambling back as if
molten lava was creeping up at her feet.
I knocked the gun from Darion’s hands, the silver metal glinting under
the lights as it skidded across the floor. There was no time for me to pause
and take a breath, to assess whether my wife was hurt. All I cared about in
that moment of total mayhem was eliminating the threat—Darion fucking
Silvestro.
My fist collided with his jaw, and he recoiled before landing a punch of
his own in my midsection, causing me to double over. But no amount of pain
or torture was strong enough for me to stop fighting. While Daniela’s cries
echoed in the background, it poured gasoline on the rage that burned with
vengeance on my insides. My bloodlust would not be sated until I watched
my brother take his last goddamn breath.
With every ounce of strength fueled by hate, I rammed into him and sent
him plummeting over the desk. The animal in me demanded blood. It
demanded fucking pain and death as penance for what my brother had done
to us.
I grabbed a large paperweight in the shape of a Saharan rose and, in my
mind’s eye, I could already see the blood gushing from his broken skull as I
lifted my arm.
The loud crack of a gunshot resounded behind us, my ears instantly
ringing, causing everything else to sound like I was underwater, but through
the haze I managed to snatch the letter opener from the desk, slipping it up
my sleeve.
I shook my head, trying to get rid of the fog, when I caught sight of my
father, plucking Daniela from the ground and shoving her into the room with
so much force, she stumbled over the leather couch and slammed face first
against the glass coffee table, knocking her unconscious.
“Jesus, Daniela!” Gun or no gun, I dropped the paperweight and rushed to
her side. “Shit.” Blood oozed from a deep cut on the side of her head, but
thank fuck she still had a pulse.
Darion pulled himself up behind the desk and wiped at his lip, the one
side of his face completely disfigured like it had been melted off. I guessed
my arson abilities weren’t a complete goddamn fail. “You still hit like a
pussy.”
“Stop!” my father snapped. “Both of you. In all my life, I never thought
I’d see the day when you two would act like fucking savages wanting to kill
each other.”
“That’s because your youngest son is a motherfucking psychopath and
rapist,” I hissed, spitting out the insults like hot coals.
Darion smiled, a wicked grin that provoked the fuck out of me, making
me see nothing but red and wanting to rip his goddamn throat out. “You
should tell him, Dad,” Darion said with a smirk, as if he held a thousand
secrets which all had the power to destroy me.
I straightened and glared at Darion, shooting motherfucking daggers at
his forehead. “I don’t give a fuck what it is you think I should know. All I
care about right now is finishing what I started weeks ago in your goddamn
basement.”
“Christ,” my father mumbled, standing to the side while still holding the
gun in his hand. “This is not what I had planned.”
“Come on, brother,” I challenged while ignoring my father. “I’d like to
melt off the other side of your ugly motherfucking face.”
“Yeah, half-assed jobs are your forte, aren’t they, Gian? Even when it
comes to fucking that beautiful little wife of yours.”
“I swear to God I’m going to tear your fucking spine through your
throat.”
“Stop! Jesus Christ,” my father shouted.
Without taking my eyes off my brother, I sneered in my father’s
direction, “The only way you can stop me from killing this bastard is if you
shoot me.”
“Do not fucking tempt me.”
Darion spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped at his face. “You couldn’t
kill me the first time around, what makes you think you’d get it right this
time?”
“I learn from my mistakes.”
“You see, Father? I told you Gian doesn’t have the balls to do what needs
to be done.”
“Wait.” I frowned as it dawned on me. “You were here the whole time?” I
looked at my father. “Darion was here all this fucking time?”
My father’s silence was answer enough, and the truth slammed against
my chest like a wrecking ball. The blood in my veins turned to ice as I
glanced from my father to Darion and back again. “All this time…”
Darion clapped his hands in a mocking cheer. “It took you long enough.
Can I just say that it was real fucking easy fooling you, brother.”
“You,” my father snapped in his direction, “shut the fuck up. It’s because
you couldn’t keep your goddamn dick in your pants that our entire plan got
shot to shit.”
Darion cackled like a madman. “I was having fun.”
“Bullshit. You were being stupid,” my father spat at him. “And look at
this goddamn mess you caused.”
Frustration simmered in my gut, and I pulled both hands through my hair.
“Can someone please tell me what in the name of ever-loving fuck is going
on?”
My father gave Darion what looked like the glare of death,
disappointment and anger etched on his face. “Your brother’s task was
simple. Take the Moretti girl, wait until ransom was paid, and return her. Un.
Fucking. Harmed.”
Jesus. Information overload, and my mind didn’t even know where to
start.
“Ransom?” I scowled. “What goddamn ransom?”
Darion smirked. “Don’t break your tiny head over it. The ransom part
never happened.”
“Because you fucked up!” My father’s voice slammed against the ceiling,
rage echoing in his words. “You were supposed to follow the plan.”
“Unfortunately for you, I had different plans. Now, if only you had me
marry the Moretti girl instead, then none of this would have happened. I
would have gotten what I wanted, and so would you. But no, you had to
choose your favorite son—the one whose own personal fucking endeavors
had the potential to ruin ours.”
“It’s because you’re an unstable little shit that I chose your brother.”
“And look where that got us.” Darion spat out some blood before pointing
toward me. “His goddamn good Samaritan operation with Irina almost fucked
us in the ass. If it weren’t for me pretending to be on his side, figuring out
where all their motherfucking safe houses were and staying one step ahead,
we’d have lost everything by now.”
It felt like I stood in the middle of a crowd with a thousand people,
everyone talking at once, and I had to try and figure out the gist of the
conversation while my own thoughts raced at a thousand miles per second.
But once I looked at my father, witnessing the defeat in his hard eyes, it all
came crashing down like the tower of Babel. “It was you. It was the two of
you who sabotaged our safe houses.” My stomach instantly filled with
concrete as I finally put two and two together. “I don’t…what the fuck is
happening right now?”
Darion rolled his eyes. “And everyone said you were the smart one.
Listen, Gian. Let me break it down for you. One, you married the Moretti girl
to form an alliance. Two, while everyone thought it was Emilio Moretti who
needed our money, it was actually the other way around.”
“What?”
He held up his hand. “Three, Father here came up with this very
predictable and unoriginal plan of kidnapping the Moretti slut, ask for
ransom, thinking that her father actually gives a fuck about her. Four,” he
shot me a challenging look, “I changed all the above-mentioned steps
because I didn’t give a shit about money, or debts, or human fucking
trafficking.” His gaze dropped to Daniela, who was still unconscious on the
floor. “All I cared about was my pretty little plaything.”
My nostrils flared and fists balled. “Say that one more time, I fucking
dare you.”
He stepped closer, top lip curled, and looked me in the eye, two orbs void
of any kind of humanity. “My pretty. Little. Plaything.”
Adrenaline rushed to every muscle, every bone, and my only instinct took
over, wholly consumed with the rage that clawed and scraped against my
bones. I launched myself at him, my mind possessed with the need to inflict
pain. To kill. To fucking make my brother bleed.
As fury erupted, I screamed, I fucking roared—pulled my arm back, and
the next thing I felt was the sharp letter opener slicing through Darion’s
chest, scraping and cracking bone. His eyes popped wide, lips parted as he
gasped for breath, but I only pushed harder, forcing the blade in deeper.
Darion tried to scream, tried to breathe, but he could only gargle as he
drowned in his own blood.
He grabbed my wrist, but there was no strength behind it—nothing but a
dying man’s last attempt at surviving.
I leaned closer, top lip curled. “This is for touching my wife.” I twisted
the blade—one, two, three times—Darion’s eyes rolling back in his skull.
“This is for ruining her life.” I tore the blade from his flesh and stabbed him
again, wanting to feel it crack bone one more fucking time.
The warmth of his blood coated my hand, and if I was a sick
motherfucker, I’d probably get a goddamn hard-on from feeling how his life
drained from his body.
Abruptly, I tore the blade from his chest, feeling how it raked against his
ribs. “And this, dear brother, is for me.” A single sweep of my arm, and I
forced the blade into the side of his head with one hard, violent jab, lodging it
in his skull.
Blood gushed out of his chest and head, and I stepped back to watch him
die. “This time you can’t escape death, brother. Hell is waiting for you.”
More gargled sounds came from his throat as blood oozed from his mouth
right before he collapsed, now nothing more than a rotting corpse. The last
thing Darion would ever do was stain the fucking expensive Persian carpet
with his filthy blood.
“What did you do?” My father rushed across the floor. “You killed your
brother.”
I didn’t even look up from my brother’s corpse, wanting to take as much
time as I could to make fucking sure the fucker was really goddamn dead.
“You killed him.” My father was rattled, hands shaking and lips
quivering. “Jesus, Gian.”
I met his gaze. “It was you all along. You made it seem like it was
Moretti who got his hands dirty by dealing with sex slaves. But it was you.”
“You think all this,” he waved his hand around, “simply dropped out of
thin air? My dealing with sex slaves is what blessed you with a wealthy life,
and the fucking expensive trimmings to go with it. And then you,” he
sneered, “you started that goddamn operation, meddling in my plans, fucking
shit up.”
His gaze cut to Darion’s corpse, blood pooling around his face. “He was
supposed to keep her safe. It was supposed to be a simple deal. Demand the
money. Get the money. Let the girl go. That’s all he had to do.” He placed his
palms against his forehead, still holding the gun in one hand. “That’s all he
had to fucking do.” He choked on a sob, his face contorted with grief. But
there was nothing left inside me, not a single ounce of compassion as I
watched him, studied him, realizing what a son of a bitch he truly was.
“All this,” I started, my voice lowered, “Alessa’s shooting, my wife’s
kidnapping, torture, rape, the reason she can’t have children…it was all
because you needed money.”
Empty irises glanced at me, and for the first time all I saw was a monster.
Not a man. Not a father. Just a soulless monster whose selfish plans ruined
everything. “It was you,” I whispered, more to myself than him. “My own
father. It’s been you all along.”
“It’s her fault.” He gestured toward her with his gun. “It’s all her fault. I
knew how much you hated the Morettis, but then you had to fall for her the
second she opened her goddamn legs for you.”
My heart stopped when he lifted the gun and aimed at Daniela, still laying
lifelessly on the ground.
“It’s all. Her. Fault.”
“No!”
There was another loud crack, the deafening sound of a bullet leaving the
gun’s chamber. Panic suffocated me, and there was no air left in my lungs as
my stomach twisted with horror. I wanted to run to Daniela. I wanted to
fucking save her. But as I finally got myself to move, my father collapsed
right in front of me, blood instantly pooling around him.
I looked up in shock and right into Emilio Moretti’s eyes as he lowered
the gun, his expression stone. His cold gaze cut to mine, his face nothing but
hard edges. “They hurt my girls. And now they paid.”
Epilogue
One year later
There was nothing quite like the first day of spring. It was more than just the
budding flowers, green lawns, and the smell of grass. Spring was about new
beginnings, finding beauty and color after the wind and rain. Nature showed
us that winter wouldn’t last forever, no matter how cold and dark it got.
Spring brought healing. Hope. Beauty. And as I walked through the
garden, watching the flowers start to bloom and the trees regaining color, I
finally felt like my winter had passed as well.
A year ago, I watched as Darion’s corpse was carried out of the Silvestro
mansion, along with that of his father. I witnessed the earth swallow them as
they were buried, erasing them as if they never existed.
It took me a long time to accept that the monster which haunted my
nightmares would not return—that he was gone for good. After that fateful
night at the Silvestro mansion, I had to start my journey toward healing all
over again.
The memories.
The nightmares.
The panic attacks.
It all came back with a vengeance, and Gian and I had to start at the very
beginning once again. But I thanked God every day for a man like Gian. He
stood by me with every tear. Held me after every nightmare. And helped me
breathe through every panic attack.
He hardly ever spoke about it, but I knew his father’s betrayal cut him
deep. It was already a bitter pill for him to swallow dealing with Darion’s
evil. But the fact that his father was the mastermind, the root of everything
bad that had happened to us laid heavily on his heart.
What made it worse was the fact that the very disease Gian and Irina had
worked so hard to combat, fighting one of this world’s ugliest trades, was the
origin of the Silvestro fortune, and the foundation of their family’s legacy.
After discovering the depths of his father’s sins, he dedicated every
minute of every day trying to atone for it by delving deeper and deeper into
the underground, wanting to destroy the wickedness from the inside.
Unfortunately, the extent of his father’s depravities wasn’t something we
could go public with, not without putting his family’s allies at risk, in turn
jeopardizing our own safety as well as exposing Gian and Irina’s secret
organization—saving those who had lost all hope.
With my father’s help, everything that went down that night at the
Silvestro estate was nothing more than an armed robbery that went wrong. It
was plausible since everyone was masked, which made it impossible to
identify suspects and led to the case being a dead end. I wished I could say
my relationship with my father had taken a turn for the better after that night,
especially after what he did avenging me and my sister. But my father didn’t
change and remained the coldhearted bastard he always was. That night was
the only time I saw any kind of emotion from him in regard to us—his
daughters. After that night, things went back to the way it had always been
between us. Cold and distant.
But after everything we had been through, enduring the harsh winter of
our lives, we learned that we were stronger together, and no matter how hard
the rain fell, how strong the wind blew, we knew the sun would eventually
shine again.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
I looked up as Gian approached, the morning sun painting the contour of
his face with beautiful shadows. With his tall frame, broad shoulders, and
dark gaze, my husband had a presence that filled all the open spaces around
him.
I twirled the rose I had picked earlier between my fingers and glanced
around, taking in the oasis of beauty and charm nature offered us. “It’s in the
early morning hours that flowers are at their most beautiful.”
Gian walked up to me and wrapped arm around my shoulder, kissing my
temple. “Yet you’re the only pretty one here.”
I shrugged away from him and smiled. “Do you have any idea how
cheesy that sounds?”
“Doesn’t make it less true.” He shot me a charming grin, and my heart
expanded. It amazed me how I kept falling more and more in love with my
husband, day after day.
“So, I received two calls this morning.”
“Who was it?”
“Alessa’s doctor phoned from Switzerland, and he is very pleased with
the progress they’ve made. He is confident that Alessa will walk again.”
I gasped and placed my hands in front of my mouth, not knowing whether
I wanted to scream or cry. My heart expanded inside my chest, and relief
flooded me. “That is the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Thank you.”
There were no words to describe how truly thankful I was that Gian had gone
out of his way to get the world’s best doctors to attend to my sister. All I
could do was wrap my arms around his neck and hug him so damn tight,
hoping he could feel the way my heart beat with gratitude. “Thank you so
much, Gian.”
“Okay. But before you suffocate me,” he gently eased my arms from
around his neck, “I need to tell you about the second phone call.”
“Can I smother you with hugs after, then?”
He smiled and took my hands. “The adoption agency called. They have a
mother, seven months pregnant, who would like us to adopt her baby.”
“Oh, my God.” I gasped. “Are you serious?”
“I am.” He smiled. “Plus, I already had a background check done on the
mother. She’s clean. No priors, and nothing that can come back to bite us in
the ass down the line.”
“Gian.” I gawked. “How did you—”
“I have my ways.”
“Adoptions are confidential.”
He shrugged. “Don’t care. When it comes to you and this family, I’ll
cross every line to make sure you’re safe.”
“Your friend, what’s his name again?”
“Antonio.”
“That’s right. Antonio Valenti. He and his wife used this same agency to
adopt both their son and daughter. I’m sure if there was anything to be
worried about, he wouldn’t have referred us to them.”
“True. But I still did a check of my own on the agency as well.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are too much.”
A mischievous glint flashed in his golden eyes. “You know, there is this
new stunning, awfully expensive garden gazebo my wife had me purchase,
right behind those white alder trees. I think it’s time we test just how robust
that structure really is.”
“Mr. Silvestro.” I shot him a suggestive look. “Are you saying you want
to have sex out here in the garden with the risk of being seen by one of your
many estate employees?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me
close, taking my chin between his strong fingers and forcing me to look at
him. “Antonio also gave me some man-to-man advice regarding pre-baby
activities.”
“Pre-baby activities?”
“Yes. According to him, spontaneous sex walks out the front door once
that newborn baby arrives. Post-baby, sex is only to be had with prior
arrangement and by appointment only.”
“What?” I laughed out loud. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s what the man said.”
A subtle breeze wafted through my hair, and Gian gently tucked a red
curl behind my ear, gazing down at me. “After everything that’s happened,”
he started, “everything we’ve been through, if I could do it over again, I’d
still marry you. Without a doubt.”
Those tiny butterflies he so expertly woke inside me fluttered as my heart
swelled. “When I walked down that aisle, scared and uncertain, a part of me
hoped that in the end ours would be a love story, even though the odds were
against us. And here I am.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, loving the
way his body felt against mine. “Completely, and madly in love with my
husband.”
Lifting on my toes, I touched my lips against his, only to have him tighten
his hold around me as he deepened our kiss.
It was said that the best love story was when you fell in love with the
most unexpected person at the most unexpected time…and I wholeheartedly
agreed.
THE END
AV A I L A B L E B E L L A J B O O K S
The Sins of Saint Trilogy
The Rise of Saint (Book 1)
The Fall of Sin (Book 2)
The Sins of Saint (Book 3)
American Street Kings
Depraved (American Street Kings, Book 1)
Defiant (American Street Kings, Book 2)
Deranged (American Street Kings, Book 3)
Destroyed (American Street Kings, Book 4)
The Twisted Duet
Blood and Lies (Twisted Duet, Book 1)
Blood and Vows (Twisted Duet, Book 2)
The Royal Mafia Series
Mafia Princess (Royal Mafia, Book 1)
Mafia Prince (Royal Mafia, Book 2)
Mafia King (Royal Mafia, Book 3)
Mafia Queen (Royal Mafia, Book 4)
The Shattered Secrets Duet
Regret (Shattered Secrets, Book 1)
Torment (Shattered Secrets, Book 2)
The Resplendence Series
Ruin (Resplendence, Book 1)
Rush (Resplendence, Book 2)
Rage (Resplendence, Book 3)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
All the way from Cape Town, South Africa, Bella J lives for the days when she's able to retreat to her
writer's cave where she can get lost in her little pretend world of romance, love, and insanely hot bad
boys.
Bella J is a Hybrid Author with both Self-Published and Traditional Published work. Even though her
novels range from drama, to comedy, to suspense, it's the dark, twisted side of romance she loves the
most.
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