Chapter 26

**ALEXANDER**

I burst through the doors with a force that sent them slamming against the walls behind them, the impact echoing through the mansion stepping out into the cool air just as my men dragged Alina back towards me.

Her struggles were fierce, her arms flailing wildly as she kicked and twisted against their grip. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, her lips curled into a snarl of rage.

"Let me go, you bastards!" she screamed, as she fought against my men.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Alina snarled.

One of my men stumbled, his grip faltering for a moment as her fury threatened to overwhelm him. She took advantage of his hesitation, lifting her foot and stomping down hard on his boot.

"Fuck!" he hissed, stumbling back with a pained oomph, his hold on her slipping.

"I'll kill you all!" she shrieked, her eyes blazing with rage.

"I'll castrate you both and feed your balls to the dogs!"

Unbelievable!

My gaze swept down to the edge of the balcony, tracing the path she must have taken in her desperate bid for escape. A surge of anger rose within me at the thought of what could have happened – the injuries she could have sustained, the damage she could have done to herself.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain calm.

"I'll... I'll... I'll put itching powder in your underwear and make you dance the chicken dance in front of the whole city!"

Silence. Heavy, unamused silence.

One of the men sneered.

"Itching powder? The chicken dance? Yeah, real terrifying, we’ve got a real threat on our hands."

Their boredom was palpable, their patience wearing thin.

But me?

I just stood there, watching her.

She was… something else.

As my men finally managed to still her struggles and bring her to a stop in front of me, Alina's gaze flashed up to meet mine.

For a moment, she was silent, her chest heaving with exertion. Then, in an almost languid movement, she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and gave me a slow, mocking smile.

"Well, that was fun," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Let's do it again sometime, shall we?" The words were laced with defiance, but beneath them, I detected a spark of something more – a spark that drew me in and refused to let go.

I didn’t say a word. Didn’t move.

Just stared at her, letting the weight of my anger settle over her like a thick, suffocating fog.

For a moment, she tried to hold my stare, but I saw the faintest flicker of fear dance in her eyes - a brief, telling spark that betrayed her bravado.

She was scared, no matter how bravely she tried to mask it. No matter what escape plan she had cooked up, she knew it had failed. And now, she knew exactly where she stood with me.

Trapped.

I lived for moments like this.

Moments of absolute clarity—when someone realized just how helpless they were under my gaze. When they looked at me like I was about to carve them open and see what secrets spilt out.

Alina wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing was stopping me from doing whatever I wanted.

I took a slow step closer, and though she didn’t move, I saw it—the slight tightening of her jaw, the way her fingers curled into fists. The way her face went was just a shade paler.

“Tell me, Alina,” I murmured, my voice low, dangerous.

“Did you think you could run from me?”

She swallowed hard, but to her credit, she lifted her chin.

“Well, I figured it was worth a shot.”

I smirked, but there was no humour in it.

“Try it again,” I said, my tone deceptively soft,

“And I’ll make sure the next place you wake up has no windows… and no doors.”

For the first time, she didn’t have a quick retort. She opened and closed her mouth as if searching for a comeback, but nothing came. Instead, her jaw tightened, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

A flicker of frustration crossed her face, like she hated that I’d stolen her words before she could spit them at me.

It excited me. More than it should have.

Fear was expected.

Predictable.

But defiance? That was something I could play with. Something I could break apart piece by piece.

My pulse quickened at the thought, my mind already spinning with the possibilities.

I wanted to do more than just scare her—I wanted to toy with her, to push her until she understood exactly what she was up against.

“So, what’s it going to be —my bedroom or a cell?"” I asked, my tone cold, my eyes flicking to the sheet still clenched tightly around her waist.

"Neither!" she spat, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation.

"You can’t lock me in a cell... that’s— that’s barbaric! You— you barbarian!"

Barbarian?

I almost laughed.

Alina had more fights in her than I expected. And that was a good thing. It meant she wouldn’t break too easily.

It meant breaking her would be all the more satisfying.

Trying to hold her ground, she glared at me, refusing to back down.

"Try me..." I said, my voice low, the challenge clear. "After all, what did you call me? Ah, yes... a barbarian." I shrugged casually, watching her.

Her resolve faltered just a fraction, her confidence slipping.

"Look...." She hesitated, her gaze flickering as she straightened, gathering her courage.

"I want my own room. Why are you insisting on me staying in yours?"

I cocked my head, letting my expression shift just enough to give her a glimpse of the answer she wasn’t ready for. I wanted to see it—the moment hope drained from her eyes, the moment she realized she was truly at my mercy.

I wanted to watch that stubborn defiance flicker… waver… and collapse into something far more satisfying. Fear. And, eventually, surrender.

Nothing would bring me more pleasure.

My gaze dragged over her, slow and deliberate. Every curve, every trembling breath.

My cock stirred as I took in the sight of her—beautiful, untamed.

I was going to enjoy shattering every illusion she had.

By the time I was done with her, there wouldn’t be a single trace of the girl who had dared to defy me.

"Didn’t you hear me l want a my own room?" she demanded suddenly, her chin tilting up in a show of stubborn defiance.

I said nothing, just watched her, amused.

She scoffed, frustration tightening her features.

"Or maybe I should ask in a language you're more familiar with - asshole-ish?" she snapped, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"You know, the universal language of kidnappers and sociopaths?"

Alina had a sharp tongue, and I found myself enjoying the verbal sparring match.

"You kidnapped a human being, you sick fuck! Did you actually think I’d be grateful? That I’d willingly share a room with you?" Her voice rose, shaking with fury.

"Of course I tried to run! And I’ll do it again. Every damn chance I get!"

Bold words.

But as I took a step forward, closing the space between us, her breath hitched.

I saw it—the slight tremor in her fingers, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She was trying to hold her ground, but her body betrayed her.

“W-who do you think you are, you fucking asshole—”

Her voice faltered as I loomed over her, my presence swallowing hers whole.

My hand flexed at my side, itching to grab her, to press her down against the wall until she learned exactly who she was dealing with.

She thought I was an asshole?

Good.

I wanted her to believe that. Because I could be far, far worse.

I let the moment, let her feel the weight of my silence before I finally leaned in, my voice low, lethal.

"Your owner."