Chapter 46

ALINA

I kicked, punched, scratched, and screamed—anything to break free—but it was useless. Dante’s grip was unyielding, his body solid as stone as he marched forward without hesitation.

He kept walking like I was nothing more than a sack of grain, his grip bruising, his pace relentless.

Dante didn’t even flinch.

Suddenly, we stopped.

The sharp creak of a door swinging open sliced through the silence, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. The heavy clinking of metal chains echoed in the air, freezing the blood in my veins.

Panic surged like ice through my body. My hands curled into trembling fists, and I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to block out whatever nightmare awaited.

When the harsh slam of the door echoed behind me, a faint light bled beneath my eyelids.

Slowly, hesitantly, I opened them.

The first thing that caught my gaze was the cold gleam of white marble beneath my feet, smooth and unforgiving. I was abruptly pulled upright, the sudden motion spinning my head violently.

I staggered, disoriented, but a steady arm caught me before I could fall—Dante.

His rough hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with brutal force. My breath caught, the scream dying in my throat as panic surged through me like a jolt of ice.

My feet scraped against the floor, heels digging in uselessly.

“Hey—let me go, you moron!” I spat, twisting in his grip, panic prickling under my skin. “Why the hell did you bring me here? What do you want from me?”

My voice shook, but I forced it steady, refusing to show how scared I really was. “You have no right to do this. If you don’t let me go, I swear I’ll call the cops.”

He chuckled under his breath.

“Is that a threat, sweetheart? I’m terrified—look at me, I’m shaking.” He cast a smirk over his shoulder.

“Go ahead. Call the cops. Just remember whose name is on their paychecks. If anything, you’d be in a cell... if you make it that far.”

I yanked at my arm with everything I had, but his grip only cinched tighter, his fingers like iron shackles around my skin.

“Why are you doing this? Why bring me here?” I demanded, breath ragged.

Arnold gave a low, mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll find out. Soon enough.”

He shoved me down into a heavy wooden chair. My spine jarred from the impact, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to show pain.

“You’re monsters,” I hissed, glaring up at him.

“All of you.”

Without hesitation, he grabbed my arms and twisted them behind me, the tendons in my shoulders screaming. I cried out, but he was already pulling thick ropes tight around my wrists.

“No!” My scream tore from my throat, ricocheting off the walls in a raw, desperate echo.

I thrashed against the ropes, but they held fast, biting deep into my skin.

Each movement scraped the coarse fibres against tender flesh, until the burn became unbearable, like fire beneath my wrists.

“Keep struggling,” came a calm, detached voice from behind me.

“You’re only hurting yourself.”

His tone was almost bored, but laced with cruel amusement.

“Another few minutes of that, and you’ll be bleeding through the rope. I’d suggest you stop.”

“Please…” My voice broke, barely more than a whisper now.

The ropes dug into my wrists, burning against raw skin with every twitch of resistance.

My arms ached, shoulders stretched too far back, but I didn’t stop pulling—didn’t stop fighting.

Tears stung my eyes, not from pain, but fury.

“You think tying me up makes you powerful?” I spat, breath ragged.

“It just proves how pathetic you really are.”

Dante paused, eyeing me with a flicker of something—amusement? Annoyance? I didn’t care.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek, the scent of smoke and sweat curling around me.

“Maybe I should tape that smart mouth shut... just for fun.”

Then he straightened, stepping back with slow satisfaction, watching me like a butcher eyeing fresh meat.

I was trembling—cold, furious, terrified—but I kept my chin high.

There were footsteps outside—heavy, deliberate—and then the door burst open, crashing against the wall with a deafening bang.

I flinched hard, heart leaping into my throat as the sharp sound cut through the silence like a blade. My back pressed tighter against the chair, body trembling, instincts screaming danger. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

And then he stepped in.

Alexander.

He walked into the room like a shadow given form, flanked by two silent men who radiated the same quiet menace.

One of them shut the door behind them with a soft click that sounded far too final.

He wore the same sharp suit I remembered—immaculate, commanding—but now his hands were covered in smooth black leather gloves that flexed with quiet promise.

My eyes travelled upward against my will, peering through the messy strands of hair that had fallen across my face.

A few locks clung to my damp skin, half-obscuring my vision, but even through that tangled veil, I saw him—and a soft, involuntary gasp slipped past my lips.

His gaze was searing.

Unblinking. Deadly.

His eyes glowed with a feral intensity that made the air feel thinner, tighter.

There was something almost inhuman in the way they bore into me—like he could read every terrified thought still trapped behind my eyes.

His presence filled the room, oppressive and electric, and dread crept down my spine like ice water.

The fine hairs along my arms lifted. My skin itched with the overwhelming sense of danger.

Then he moved.

Alexander bent at the waist, slow and deliberate, until we were eye level. His face was mere inches from mine.

I whimpered, helpless under the weight of his stare, so cold, so empty, it stole the breath from my lungs. No cruelty needed to be spoken aloud. It was already there, gleaming in his silence.

I’d seen him angry before—but this was different. This wasn’t anger. This was rage sharpened into something lethal.

His blue eyes didn’t just burn—they crackled, like lightning caged behind ice.

His jaw ticked, face flushed with fury, and for the first time, I saw him for what he truly was.

Not just Alexander.

Not just a man.

But a weapon—cold, precise, and deadly.

The monster they all whispered about. The one with blood on his hands and no remorse in his heart.

And now… I was in his lair.

My heart pounded so violently that it climbed into my throat, choking me. I couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t breathe.

My fingers curled into fists so tight my nails carved into my skin—and in some twisted way, that pain was comforting. It was proof I was still here. Still real. Still breathing.

But for how long?

What had I done?

Why hadn’t I run when I had the chance?

I told myself I could handle him.

I told myself I was smarter than this. But now, staring into the eyes of a man who looked ready to destroy me, I realised something terrifying—I had never really known him at all.