Chapter 283

ALINA

Consciousness returned in slow, painful fragments.

The first thing I felt was the pounding in my head. It throbbed behind my eyes, each heartbeat sending another sharp wave of pain through my skull.

Every muscle in my body ached as though I’d been beaten from head to toe. My mouth tasted of blood. My limbs felt unnaturally heavy, like they belonged to someone else.

"What the fuck…"

I forced my eyes open. Everything was blurry at first — dark stone walls, a damp ceiling, and the stale, heavy smell of mould and rust that clung to the air. As my vision gradually sharpened, a cold knot of dread formed in the pit of my stomach.

A sharp gasp escaped me as memory crashed back all at once — the fight, the children, the car, Santos. My entire body went rigid.

“No…”

I tried to sit up, but my arms refused to move.

For one bewildered second, my sluggish brain couldn’t understand why.

Then I heard it.

Clink.

The unmistakable sound of metal scraping against stone.

My stomach dropped.

Slowly, I looked down.

Heavy steel cuffs encircled both my wrists, thick chains disappearing into iron rings bolted deep into the damp stone wall behind me. Matching shackles locked around my ankles, leaving me only enough room to shift a few inches.

My ankles were shackled too.

“No..”

The whisper barely left my lips as I pulled instinctively against the restraints.

The chains jerked tight, steel biting into my skin. Pain shot through my wrists, but panic drowned it out. I pulled again, harder this time, yet the restraints didn’t so much as budge. I was trapped. Completely. Hopelessly.

A sob caught in my throat before I could stop it. Tears blurred my vision as the reality settled over me like ice water. I was completely at his mercy.

A tear slipped silently down my cheek, then another. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it only made the image of Alexander clearer — his face, his eyes, the way he’d looked at me earlier while practically begging me to stay hidden.

He’d told me not to follow him. He’d told me he’d keep me safe. And I’d ignored him.

Because I thought I knew better.

Because I was too stubborn, too reckless, too fucking arrogant to listen.

I thought I could help. Instead, I’d handed Santos exactly what he wanted — on a silver platter.

All because I couldn’t stay put for once in my life.

God, Alina… you absolute idiot.

A shaky laugh escaped me before it dissolved into a sob.

“I should’ve listened,” I whispered. For once, I should have listened.

My chest tightened until every breath hurt, knowing Alexander would be losing his mind.

He’d be tearing the city apart stone by stone looking for me. He’d blame himself, even though none of this was his fault.

“I’m sorry Alexander,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I’m so sorry.”

I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back.

No. I won’t cry. I won’t be scared. I have to be strong. Think, Alina. You got yourself into this mess — now you have to figure out how to get out of here.

I grabbed the chains with both hands and yanked with everything I had. The metal bit deeper into my already raw wrists, pain flaring up my arms, but I didn’t stop. I pulled again. And again. Teeth gritted, muscles straining, refusing to accept that I was completely helpless.

They didn't move.

Not even a fraction.

I braced my feet against the wall and pulled harder.

Nothing.

The steel bit deep into my wrists, tearing at my skin until fresh blood trickled beneath the cuffs. Pain shot up both arms, but panic drowned it out.

“Come on... work with me here,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

“This is the part where the heroine escapes. You're supposed to cooperate.”

The chains answered with nothing but a dull metallic rattle.

"Come on..come on..."

I gave them another vicious yank.

Nothing.

Not even a sympathetic wobble.

I pulled again until my muscles screamed and my wrists burned.

The chains held.

A broken sob escaped before I could swallow it.

“Fuck...”

I let my forehead fall against the cold stone, squeezing my eyes shut.

A dropped to my knees, as a dull, relentless throb pulsed through my skull, spreading down my neck and settling deep into my bones. Every muscle screamed in protest.

My face burned where it had been smashed against the car window, and my wrists stung with every tiny movement.

The door opened, and harsh light flooded the room. Santos stepped inside, looking completely unhinged.

Every part of him radiated barely contained fury, like one wrong word would be enough to make him snap.

But the moment his gaze landed on me, something changed.

The anger twisted into something far worse.

Something dark.

Something possessive.

A slow, unsettling smile spread across his face as though he wasn't looking at a prisoner chained to a wall, but at something he'd finally managed to reclaim.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he said softly.

The tenderness in his voice made my stomach turn.

I stared back at him through the pounding pain in my head, refusing to let him see the fear clawing at my chest.

“This isn't my home.”My voice came out hoarse, but steady.

I looked around the damp, filthy room and then back at him.

“Home? This is a prison.And you're still a fucking psycho.”

Santos didn't look offended.

If anything, my words seemed to amuse him.

That was the part that made my skin crawl.

“You always did have such a sharp tongue. I missed that.”

“Missed what? The part where I insult you, or the part where I remind you that you're completely insane bastard?”

His smile barely faltered.

“Is that any way to greet your future husband?”

I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

“Future husband?”

I looked around the damp, filthy cellar before slowly turning my gaze back to him.

“Oh... you're serious.”

I shook my head.

“Sorry, I thought that was a joke.”

My eyes swept over the chains around my wrists.

“Bit of an unconventional first date, don't you think?”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

“Most men buy flowers. You chained me to a wall.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“And somehow you still think this ends with wedding vows instead of a restraining order.”

I gave the chains around my wrists a little shake.

“You kidnapped a married woman, chained her to a wall, and somehow your first thought was, 'Yep... she's definitely going to marry me.'

You really are completely fucking delusional.”

Santos didn't laugh. He didn't look embarrassed. If anything, my words seemed to please him.

“You can insult me all you want,” he said softly, lowering his hand. “It changes nothing.”

“You're here.”His voice dropped to little more than a whisper.

“And Alexander isn't.”

He took another slow step until only the chains separated them.

“You call me delusional, yet he's the one who filled your head with fantasies.”

A flicker of anger crossed his face.

“He convinced you that he could protect you.”

His smile returned, colder this time.

“Look around, sweetheart.” He gestured to the cellar.

“Who's holding you? Who's deciding whether you eat, sleep, or leave this cell?”

His gaze locked onto hers.

“Not Alexander.”

His expression softened into something almost pitiful.

“He's not coming. He doesn't know where you are. And by the time he figures it out...”

His smile widened.

“You'll have accepted that you were always meant to be mine.”

He tilted his head, studying her as though he genuinely believed every word.

“You don't see it yet. But you will. I've waited years. I can wait a little longer.”

His gaze travelled over me with unsettling possessiveness.

“And now you're finally where you've always belonged.”

He spread his arms as though presenting me with a palace instead of a prison.

“With me.”

I gave him a flat look.

“You chained me to a wall.”

I looked pointedly at the shackles around my wrists.

“If this is your idea of romance, I can see why you've been single.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw but he kept going like the sadistic manic psychopath he was, completely ignoring my words.

"We should celebrate. Maybe later I’ll pour us both a drink and we can talk about our wedding. The dress you'll wear. The rings. The children we'll have together.”

His smile became almost boyish.

“Doesn't that sound perfect?”

I stared at him.

“You know what’s perfect?”

His eyes lit up, almost as if he expected me to finally say something he wanted to hear.

“The fact that somewhere out there my husband is looking for me. Not searching. Hunting.” I tilted my head, a slow smile spreading across my face.

“And when Alexander finds you… they’re going to need dental records to identify what’s left of you.”

“Alina!”

My name came out as a furious snarl.

I laughed — not because anything was funny, but because the sheer stupidity of this man was almost impressive.

“Did you seriously think kidnapping me was going to magically change reality?” I pulled against the chains, the metal rattling between us.

“I’m already married, you fucking moron. I have a husband. A real one. Someone who loves me. Someone I chose."

I stared at him with nothing but disgust.

“You keep standing there talking about what belongs to you, but you don’t seem to understand the most basic thing. I was never yours. Not for one second. My piss doesn't even belong to you..”

The anger in his eyes grew, but I didn’t care.

“You can lock me in a room. You can chain me to a wall. You can tell yourself whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night.”

I pulled against the restraints, the chains rattling between us.

“But you'll never be Alexander.”

My voice was steady despite the fear clawing at my chest.

“Do you know why? Because Alexander is a real man. He doesn't have to stalk women. He doesn't have to lurk in the shadows for years, obsessing over someone who never wanted him. He doesn't have to buy people, make filthy deals with desperate fathers, or chain a woman to a wall to convince himself she's his.”

I looked him up and down with open disgust.

“He's only a few years older than me, yet somehow he has something you'll never have.”

My smile was cold.

“Character. He protects people instead of preying on them. He earns loyalty instead of demanding it. His men would die for him because they choose to—not because they're terrified of what he'll do if they don't.”

I held his gaze, refusing to look away.

“He's powerful enough that the entire underworld knows his name, feared enough that grown men piss themselves when he walks into a room... and despite all that, he still knows how to love.”

My voice softened for just a moment.

“He would rather die than let anyone hurt me.”

Then the softness vanished.

“You, on the other hand...You're just a pathetic old bastard lusting after a woman young enough to be your daughter, convincing yourself that obsession is love and kidnapping is romance.”

I leaned forward as far as the chains allowed.

“The difference between you and Alexander isn't power. It isn't money. It's that I love him. And if I had a thousand lifetimes to live...”

I smiled straight into his eyes.

“I'd choose him every single time.

You?”

I looked him up and down, a bitter laugh escaping me.

“You’re just a pathetic old man throwing a tantrum because the woman you obsessed over had the audacity to choose someone else.”

His face twisted with rage.

“Careful.”

I smiled.

“There it is. The part where you stop pretending you’re a gentleman and remember you’re exactly what everyone knows you are — a delusional coward who thinks possession is the same thing as love.”