Chapter 47

ALEXANDER

“Boss, we got her. She’s in the basement,” Luther said breathlessly through the phone.

A slow smile curved at the corner of my mouth.

“I’m coming,” I snapped and ended the call without waiting for a reply.

I threw on my suit jacket in one sharp motion, fixing the cuffs with practised precision before reaching for the top drawer of my desk.

My black leather gloves waited inside like old friends—tools of control, of silence. I always wore them when there was a problem in the basement. They were my armour, my ritual. Just in case things got messy.

Slamming the drawer shut, I strode out of my office, every step echoing with controlled fury. I could feel it rising in me again—boiling under my skin, crawling up my spine like a beast being fed.

How dare she run again?

After everything.

After the leniency I’d shown her—a mercy most people never got from me.

I’d been as nice as I could be, considering I barely even understood the word's meaning.

I gave her space. I barely even touched her—didn’t fucking force myself on her, though I fucking well could have.

I showed restraint—more than anyone ever gets from me.

And still… she ran.

Again.

The audacity.

The spit-in-my-face defiance.

Like I’m some fool she can outsmart.

Like I won’t come for her.

My jaw clenched.

My body tensed, muscles locking tight as I stormed through the dark corridor.

The cold stone walls did nothing to smother the rage coursing through me. Instead, the silence echoed it—magnified it.

My fury was a living thing now, sharpening with every footstep. It was cold and loud and breathing, and it wanted blood.

The air crackled with it. It smelled like dust, sweat, and fear. It smelled like her.

I reached the black wooden door and shoved it open with such force that it ricocheted off the wall. The bang rattled the basement, and silence fell again, heavy and thick.

There she was.

Alina.

Strapped to the chair like a porcelain doll, someone had tried to break and failed.

Her spine was straight, chin tilted in quiet defiance. Wild strands of hair framed her face like a storm, but I could still catch glimpses of her eyes—sharp, burning, unyielding.

She looked like a storm waiting to break.

Even now, tied up in my basement like prey, she refused to give me the satisfaction of fear.

Fuck.

My jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in the corner of my face.

I stepped toward her slowly. Intentionally.

Then I crouched—calm, collected, a man at eye level with his prey.

Her body flinched. The slightest tremor. But I saw it. I felt it.

And the monster in me smiled.

He laughed.

He fed off her fear like it was a fine wine.

And he wanted more.

Her beautiful blue eyes peeked through the curtain of tangled strands, wild and glistening—not just with fear, but with something sharper.

Fierce.

Untamed.

She was trembling, yes, but there was fire behind the terror.

A stubborn refusal to break.

A silent dare in the way she looked at me, like prey baring its teeth even as the predator closed in.

Even like this—tied, filthy from the escape—she was breathtaking. Fuck.

Get a grip.

This wasn’t the time to admire her.

She’d disobeyed me.

Again.

And disobedience demanded consequences.

There was no room for softness in my world.

There was no room for the flicker of feeling that twisted in my chest.

My heart was a frozen, dead thing—and it had no damn right to stir now. I crushed it back into silence.

Without hesitation, I grabbed her chin in a punishing grip, fingers digging deep into her cheeks until she let out a strangled moan.

She thrashed, trying to twist away, but I held her still, savouring her resistance.

“Alexander…” she choked, her face reddening under the pressure.

“Why the fuck did you run again?” I growled, venom dripping from each word.

“Didn’t I warn you what would happen if you pulled that stunt a second time?”

She froze.

Just for a heartbeat—but I saw it. Surprise. Confusion. Maybe even regret.

Not that it would save her.

She slowly closed her eyes, saying nothing.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just rehearsing your next escape plan in that pretty little head of yours?”

I smiled coldly, just inches from her lips.

“Go on, lie to me. Give me one good excuse to show you exactly what ‘punishment’ really means.”

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of fear warring with fury in them.

She was trembling, but her jaw clenched, and I saw her dig her nails into her palms like she needed the pain to stay grounded.

“Excuse?” she rasped, her voice hoarse but laced with defiance.

“You want an excuse?”

She let out a breathless, bitter laugh, though it cracked in the middle.

“How about the fact that I’m not your goddamn pet? Or your prisoner. Do you think this is about defiance?”

Her eyes locked onto mine, lips twitching with something almost like a smile—but it wasn’t sweet. It was drenched in spite.

“It’s survival, Alexander. You treat me like an animal, and then act surprised when I try to run from the cage.”

She tilted her head slightly despite the grip on her face.

“So go ahead. Hurt me. Punish me. It won’t change a damn thing.”

My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Survival.

“You think this is survival?” I snarled, my voice low and dripping with venom—the kind of calm that promised a storm was coming.

“No, sweetheart. This isn’t survival—it’s damn stubborn defiance. You didn’t run because you were caged—you ran because you thought you could outsmart me. Did you fucking forget the debt your father owes me? You’re nothing but collateral damage, and yet you have the audacity to try and slip away like that?!”

I closed the distance between us, my breath hot against her skin, my eyes burning with ruthless fury.

“You want to play the caged animal? Fine. But don’t you dare pretend you didn’t poke the bear and start this fire.”

My voice dropped to a venomous hiss, each word laced with contempt and warning.

“Remember this—defiance isn’t strength. It’s a death sentence. And I’m the executioner.”

Letting go of her cheek, I dragged my hand downward, slow and deliberate, letting the tension twist tighter between us. Then, without warning, I wrapped my fingers around her throat and squeezed.

Her body jerked against the ropes, the wooden chair creaking beneath her as she thrashed.

Gagging sounds spilt from her lips, her face turning a deep shade of red. Her legs kicked out instinctively, but she had nowhere to go—no way to fight back.

Her cheeks ballooned as she tried to breathe, a sickening gurgle rising from her throat.

I watched the panic flood her eyes, her movements growing weaker by the second. Just as her head began to lull forward, her consciousness slipping, I let go.

Her head snapped back against the chair, a strangled gasp tearing from her lungs. She coughed violently, each breath scraping like glass in her throat.

Drool slid from the corner of her mouth as her chest rose and fell in desperate, shuddering heaves.

“L-let… me go…you bastard ” she choked out, her voice hoarse, trembling—barely alive.

"Never!"

I reached out, my fingers rough as they brushed the tangled strands of hair away from her face.

My breath hitched.

My eyes locked onto the harsh, angry purple-blue bruises blooming across her cheek—fresh, raw, undeniable. My breath caught, a storm igniting deep inside me.

A flash of fury ignited inside me, hot and uncontrollable.

My vision blurred with red.

How dare they touch her like this?

How dare anyone hurt what belonged to me?

Without thinking, my hand curled into a fist, my body trembling with the sudden, savage need to protect and punish.

“How the hell…” I growled through gritted teeth, my voice low and deadly.

The monster inside me roared to life—angrier, darker, and far more dangerous than before.