Chapter 44
ALINA
“Please just let me go,” I said, voice low but steady, even as my heart thundered.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. I wouldn't let him see how much I wanted to cry.
He grabbed my chin in a vice-like grip, his fingers digging into my skin with cruel precision, forcing my face up to his. I whimpered and twisted away, but his hold only tightened, nails biting deep enough to bruise.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, his voice a low, venomous growl.
“Stop begging. It’s pathetic.”
His breath reeked of smoke and rot, washing over me like something unclean.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes dragging over my features with slow, deliberate malice.
“Come quietly, and I won’t have to break anything… yet,” he murmured, almost thoughtfully.
Then a wicked smirk curled at his lips.
“Though… I have to admit,” he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper,
“The idea of scarring that pretty porcelain skin of yours? That’s very tempting.”
My stomach turned, a wave of nausea rising at the cold hunger in his voice. But I forced myself not to look away.
Not to blink.
He wanted fear—craved it.
So I gave him rage instead.
I wrenched my face out of his grasp, breath hitching as pain flared along my jaw.
“Go to hell, you sick bastard ” I spat, the words sharper than my voice felt.
His smile vanished.
In a flash, his hand snapped out again, gripping my throat—not tight enough to cut off air, but enough to send a warning.
“Brave little bitch,” he hissed, his eyes burning with something feral.
“Keep talking like that, and I will show you what the hell looks like.”
He leaned in, his nose nearly brushing mine, the pressure of his fingers unrelenting.
“You think your fire makes you strong?” he whispered.
“It makes you fun. I like watching strong things break.”
Then, almost gently, he released me—only to deliver a sharp backhand across my cheek that sent stars exploding behind my eyes.
I screamed—more from the shock than the pain—stumbling to the side, clutching my face as the sting bloomed hot across my skin.
But I didn’t have time to catch my breath.
He was behind me in a heartbeat, one arm snaking around my waist like a vice, yanking me back against his chest.
His other hand slid up, fingers curling harshly around my throat—not choking, but controlling, a sick imitation of intimacy.
“You scream so sweetly when you’re scared,” he murmured into my ear, his breath cold against my neck.
“I can’t wait to hear what other sounds I can pull from you.”
I thrashed against him, but he only tightened his grip, his laughter low and cruel in my ear.
“Save your strength, princess,” he whispered.
“The fun’s just beginning.”
My stomach twisted.
Panic surged like a tidal wave, and before I could think, I spun in his grip, facing him head-on.
His breath hit my face—hot and tainted with menace.
Without hesitation, I raised my hand and raked my nails down his face with all the strength I could muster.
His snarl turned into a roar of pain as angry red lines bloomed across his skin.
Blinded by his shock, I took my chance—I lunged forward and drove my fingers into his eyes.
His scream was guttural and raw. He staggered back, hands flying to his face.
“You fucking bitch!” he howled, blood seeping through his fingers.
I turned and ran.
My lungs burned, and my feet slipped against the cold floor—but I barely made it three steps before a vicious hand tangled in my hair and yanked me back like a ragdoll.
I hit the ground with a sickening thud, the air knocked from my lungs.
Then he was on me.
His face twisted with fury—one eye squeezed shut, blood dripping from a gash across his cheek.
“You wanna play dirty?” he snarled, grabbing my jaw with bruising force.
“Then scream, sweetheart. Let’s see how long you last.”
I thrashed, but he only laughed—a low, sick sound that crawled over my skin like ice.
“You’re gonna fucking regret that,” the first one growled behind him, voice trembling with unhinged rage.
“I’ll carve your eyes out and let you feel what that’s like.”
I gasped, struggling beneath them, but the cold weight of fear pressed harder than their bodies ever could.
His face was a mask of fury—blood trailing from the corner of his eye, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter.
“You wanna play dirty?” he growled, his breath hot against my face, mingling with the sharp scent of sweat and blood.
“Then scream, sweetheart. Let’s see how long you last.”
I thrashed beneath him, dirt and leaves scraping my skin, but he pinned me down like prey, one hand anchoring my wrists while the other slid to his belt—slow, deliberate.
Then, with a savage jerk, he grabbed the front of my shirt and tore it open.
The fabric gave way with a sharp rip, cold night air biting into my exposed skin.
I gasped, instinctively twisting away, but he yanked my arm back with bruising force.
“You think you can claw my face and just run?” he snarled, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.
“You’re not going anywhere now.”
His belt hissed free from the loops, the metal buckle clinking like a warning.
And then—
“Dante!”
A voice rang out from the trees—low, urgent.
Dante didn’t move.
His bloody eye twitched, nostrils flaring.
“Boss is waiting,” a voice barked from the edge of the clearing, the guard stepping into view, chest heaving like he’d been running through hell to catch up.
“He wants to know what the fuck’s taking so long to bring her in.”
Silence stretched.
Dante’s grip tightened like he was considering doing it anyway—finishing what he started.
His gaze dropped back to me, chest heaving, lip curled in frustration.
Dante’s breath came out in a sharp snarl. His belt hung loose in his fist, fingers twitching around the leather.
Then he leaned in so close I could see the flecks of blood on his teeth.
“Saved by the fucking bell,” he whispered darkly.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to my feet.
My legs gave out, but he hauled me upright like I weighed nothing. Leaves clung to my scraped knees. My shirt hung in tatters.
The night air gnawed at my exposed skin, and the sharp sting of humiliation cut deeper than the cold.
I stumbled as he dragged me forward, rough and careless, like I was just another problem to hand over.
Through the dense trees, the forest began to thin.
And somewhere ahead, cloaked in darkness and power—
Alexander was waiting.
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the blood on his breath. His eyes were wild, one bloodshot and swollen, the other burning with twisted rage.
“If the boss wasn’t waiting,” he hissed, voice low and shaking with fury,
“I’d fuck you right here… and then rearrange that pretty face for clawing at me. You little bitch.”
His grip tightened around my wrist until I whimpered.
“You really thought you could outrun Alexander?” he sneered, dragging me through the underbrush.
“You don’t even know what you’ve done. He’s not like us. He’s worse.”
“He’ll tear you apart piece by piece,” the man muttered, almost to himself. “And he won’t even blink.”
Then he stopped and leaned in, his breath freezing against my cheek.
“So listen close, bitch. Come quietly, and maybe—maybe—we won’t have to break you before he does.”
He grinned, slow and cruel, before shoving me forward again.
“Move! One more wrong step,” he snarled, voice sharp as a blade, “and I swear, you’ll regret it in ways you can’t even imagine. Got it?”
“I understand perfectly,” I snapped, my voice laced with biting sarcasm.
“I’m just supposed to march straight back to the slaughterhouse like a good little lamb, right?”
I didn’t even see it coming.
His hand shot out, fingers tangling in my hair, yanking me back hard against his chest. The breath fled my lungs as his grip tightened, pulling my head back until his mouth was beside my ear.
“Big fuckin’ mouth on you,” he hissed, his tone low and deadly.
“Let’s see how far that attitude gets you with him.”
His lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl.
“Alexander doesn’t like his toys talking back.”
Then he shoved me forward again, and I stumbled, still clutching my torn shirt—heart pounding, breath shallow—as the forest opened intthe o darkness ahead.
The worst was still waiting.