Chapter 45
ALINA
Then he shoved me forward again, and I stumbled, still clutching my torn shirt—heart pounding, breath shallow—as the forest opened into the darkness ahead.
“You really think this proves you’re a man?” I spat, twisting my head just enough to lock eyes with him.
“Dragging a girl half your size through the woods like some tough guy? Newsflash — you’re nothing but a scared little coward—it’s pathetic.”
The words had barely left my mouth before his hand shot out, slamming against my throat and pinning me back against a tree with terrifying force.
His grip tightened in response, his forearm like iron against my windpipe. I could feel the heat of his body behind me, the weight of his glare digging into my spine like knives.
He leaned in, voice low and venomous, brushing my ear with his breath.
“You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone so breakable,” he snarled.
“Keep running that mouth, and I’ll make sure the only thing you’re choking on is regret.”
I didn’t flinch, not even when his grip tightened.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” I spat, voice rough but steady.
His eyes narrowed.
“Who the fuck are you calling an asshole?”
My pulse thundered, my lungs burned for air, but I forced the words out—sharp, cold, and unyielding.
“You. Unless there’s some other brainless bastard out here choking women in the woods.”
There was a beat of silence.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Then he let out a low, mirthless chuckle, full of fury barely held back.
“Oh… you’ve got guts,” he growled.
“Let’s see how long that mouth lasts once the boss has his hands on you,” he sneered,
“Tell your boss,” I rasped, “he’ll have to do a hell of a lot more than that to break me.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as his grip tightened around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs.
It was no use.
No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t break free from his hold.
The pressure increased, my breath grew more shallow, and my vision began to blur at the edges.
The pain in my throat was excruciating, sharp, and unrelenting. My heart raced in my chest, thumping in desperation, but his grip was iron—merciless, suffocating.
His fingers dug deeper into my throat, his hands coarse and unyielding, the tips of his nails scraping against my skin. I whimpered, twisting in his hold, but it was futile—he was unmovable.
The world around me spun as my breath became more laboured, and I knew—if I didn’t do something soon, I wouldn’t be able to fight much longer.
"Alright, that's enough, Dante," the other goon snapped.
"She got the message."
Dante scoffed, not loosening his grip.
"But I was just starting to have fun."
If I hadn’t been choking to death, I would've kneed him right in the balls—see how much fun that would’ve been.
“Let her go,” the second man snapped, his voice cutting through the clearing like a blade.
“Alexander will gut you for touching what’s his.”
At the mention of the name, Dante stilled—his jaw clenched, a curse slipping past his lips as his fingers reluctantly uncoiled from my throat.
I stumbled back, coughing as air rushed into my lungs in ragged gulps. My fingers flew to my neck, rubbing the sore skin. But I still met his gaze, defiance burning through the sting.
I collapsed to my knees, coughing, dragging air into my lungs like a drowning woman finally breaking the surface.
“Fine,” he muttered, venom laced through every syllable.
“Whatever.”
I was still on the floor, one hand clutching my throat, my breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
My lungs burned, and my eyes watered from the pressure of his grip. But I didn’t look away.
He crouched in front of me, lips curling into something between a sneer and a snarl, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath on my face.
“You keep that sexy little mouth of yours shut, yeah?” he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
His eyes bore into mine, dark with fury and something colder—something that made my stomach twist. He leaned in closer, just enough for the sharp scent of leather and smoke to fill my nose.
“Or I swear, next time, I’ll make sure you can’t open it again.”
His hand twitched near my face, like he was daring me to say another word. But even through the fear clawing at my chest, I met his stare with every ounce of defiance I had left.
“Keep pushing me, and next time I won’t stop.”
His eyes flicked to my throat, then back to my face, and the corner of his mouth twitched with something cruel.
“You’re lucky the boss still wants you breathing.”
"Dante...enough!" The other goon called out again.
“Yeah yeah—she clawed me first. I’m sure the boss wouldn’t mind if I taught her a lesson… slowly.”
His hand twisted in my hair again, not enough to hurt—yet—but just enough to remind me he still could.
“Come quietly,” he hissed, voice coated in mockery.
I wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my shaking hand, forcing myself to meet his eyes—even as the sting of his slap throbbed hot across my cheek.
“And you’d better pray he kills me fast… because if he doesn’t, I swear I’ll make you regret ever laying a hand on me.”
His eyes darkened.
Then came the crack.
His hand slammed across my face, snapping my head to the side. The taste of blood bloomed on my tongue, sharp and metallic.
My knees buckled, but his arm still caged me, holding me upright like a doll he refused to drop.
“Fuck… you just don’t learn, do you?” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl, thick with seething rage.
“Not another word…” he warned, eyes darkening.
“Or I’ll make sure your tongue’s the first thing you lose.”
His fist tangled in my hair, yanking me back with brutal force—just enough to make my spine arch, just enough to remind me how easily he could snap me in two.
I bit back a cry, teeth clenched as his breath hit my ear.
“Move,” he spat.
“You’ve wasted enough of the boss’s time already.”
Then, with a grunt, he shoved me forward with a rough jerk, like I was nothing more than a ragdoll in his path.
“And I won’t have to snap anything delicate.…”
Numb, I gave the smallest nod, my body going limp in his grasp. Every instinct screamed at me to fight—but I knew better. For now, I had to survive.
“Good,” he muttered through gritted teeth, finally releasing my chin.
His touch lingered, and the burn of his grip on my skin made me flinch. I winced, moving my jaw gingerly, the soreness in my throat searing with each subtle motion.
Without a word, he led the way while the other one yanked me forward. My feet dragged against the dirt, resisting every step, but it didn’t matter.
“Fuck, girl. You really don’t get it, do you?” he snapped.
He released me for a second, and instinct kicked in—I turned to run. But before I could take a step, his arm coiled tightly around my waist like a vice.
With a scowl etched on his face, he hoisted me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I screamed, kicked, punched, scratched—anything to fight back—but it was useless. His body was solid and unyielding, and he moved without pause.
Instead of heading up the grand staircase like I expected, they turned left—toward a dim, narrow hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly into darkness.
My stomach twisted.
“W-Where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor betrayed me.
“My room is upstairs…”
Dante chuckled behind me, the sound low and cruel.
“Your room?” he sneered.
“You think after that little stunt, you still get to sleep in his bed?”
My breath hitched, panic blooming in my chest like wildfire.
“You’re lucky we’re even keeping you in the house, princess. You really think you deserve to be anywhere near Alexander’s bedroom?”
He leaned close to my ear as we walked, his voice like poison sliding beneath my skin.
“After what you just pulled… you’re lucky you’re still breathing.”
The corridor seemed to narrow with every step, the air colder, heavier—like the walls themselves knew what was coming.
"And trust me, sweetheart… this new room? It’ll fit you just fine.”
The corridor grew darker, the air colder with every step. And suddenly, upstairs felt like a world away. Like safet,y I might never touch again.
And whatever waited at the end of this hallway… it wasn’t safety. It wasn’t mercy.
It was punishment.