Chapter 54

ALINA

Every inch of me ached—my wrists from the rope burns, my jaw from where I'd clenched it too tightly, and my chest... my chest throbbed with something I couldn't name.

Fury.

Helplessness.

But worst of all?

Hope.

God, I hated that.

Hated him for putting it there.

The man who ripped me from my life like I was nothing.

Who kept me bound like some wild creature.

Who let his men drag me back like I was his property?

And yet—

He told them not to touch me.

He looked at that bruise like it offended him.

Like he hadn’t started all of this.

I coughed, wincing as pain stabbed through my ribs.

My body wanted to collapse, but my mind wouldn’t let it.

Not yet.

I was still tied, still bleeding, still at his mercy… but I hadn’t broken.

Not fully.

My throat was raw—torn from screaming, from cursing, from the desperate rage of trying to be heard in a place where no one gave a damn.

I’d shouted until my voice cracked, until the ropes burned against my wrists.

“Let me go, you bastards!” I’d screamed.

“I’m not some fucking animal you can chain up!”

They didn’t flinch.

Not even a glance.

Just blank stares and silence.

“Tell your boss—next time he dares show that smug, self-righteous face—I’ll bite. I swear to God, I’ll sink my teeth so hard....... Let’s see how cocky he is when he’s screaming.”

Yeah, that got a twitch.

Not enough.

But it was something.

But now, as I sat there alone, the adrenaline drained out of me like poison, leaving only a trembling, bitter emptiness behind.

The truth clawed at me.

I was here because of my father.

Because of the debt he owed.

And yet, I was the one shackled like a criminal.

The one being punished.

What kind of twisted logic was that?

Why was I paying the price for his sins?

And what the hell was Alexander thinking—that trapping me in his gilded prison would somehow balance the scales?

As if locking me away, breaking me down piece by piece, would magically erase the debt my father owed.

As if my pain were the currency that made everything right.

But what rattled me most was the way he looked at me… like I was both the nuisance he had to deal with and the treasure he refused to let go.

Like I was the problem. And somehow, still the prize.

And why—God, why—did something inside me twist when he said no one else could touch me?

Like his sick, possessive claim meant something.

Like I meant something.

It was absurd.

I wasn’t his.

I wasn’t anyone’s.

And yet the way he said it—low, final, like it was law—had lodged itself in my chest like a splinter I couldn’t dig out.

I clenched my fists, furious with myself.

This wasn’t some tragic love story.

This was a prison.

A punishment.

A cruel game where I was both the pawn and the prize.

I was reading too much into it—letting scraps of attention feel like meaning, like worth.

It meant nothing.

He meant nothing.

And I would keep reminding myself of that until it finally sank in.

Letting the words of a cruel man settle where they didn’t belong.

He didn’t care.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let my mind pretend otherwise.

Alexander Dimitri was an unfeeling bastard.

Ruthless.

Cold.

The kind of man who destroyed anything he couldn't control.

Whatever that flicker inside me was—it wasn’t real.

It was survival.

Confusion.

A glitch in my broken, exhausted brain.

Nothing more.

I closed my eyes, trying to force the tears back.

I wasn’t going to cry.

He wanted a pet.

A prisoner.

Someone to punish.

He didn’t deserve my tears.

Or my thoughts.

I turned my face toward the wall, the cold concrete against my cheek grounding me.

He would never care.

I was leveraging.

Collateral.

But still…

If I ever got the chance again—I would run.

And I would never stop.

Even if a part of me-the broken, bleeding part—already knew...

He wouldn’t let me go.

Not now.

Not ever.

...

I didn’t know how long I’d been in that room.

Hours?

Days?

Time blurred into a haze of pain and silence.

There were no windows, no light to tell me if it was night or day—only the cold, damp walls and the steady throb of agony echoing through my body.

All I knew was that I wanted it to stop.

The pain.

The helplessness.

The choking sense of being forgotten.

My head pounded with every shallow breath, and my limbs felt like they were carved from stone—heavy, useless, trembling.

The ropes bit into my wrists, digging deeper each time I shifted.

The skin there was raw now, flayed and sticky with blood.

Every movement sent a fresh wave of fire shooting up my arms.

I tried not to cry out.

Tried to swallow the sound.

But occasionally, a whimper slipped past my cracked lips—soft, broken, humiliating.

Each sound felt like surrender, like another piece of myself slipping through the cracks.

I was losing the fight.

Not just against the ropes or the cold concrete floor—but against the exhaustion, the silence, the waiting.

And then—

The door creaked open.

My breath hitched.

I didn’t lift my head.

Didn’t care.

Someone stepped in, each footfall calm and deliberate, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that made my stomach twist.

A chair was dragged across the cement floor, the sharp scrape echoing like nails on glass, making me flinch.

He placed it right in front of me—too close—like he wanted to remind me exactly who had control here.

I turned my head just slightly, jaw tight.

Leo.

Arms crossed, posture relaxed, like he had all the time in the world.

“Well, well,” he said with heavy sarcasm,

“Looks like someone’s really enjoying their stay. How’s the five-star treatment?”

Leo’s dark chuckle echoed in the cold room.

I lifted my head just enough to glare, my voice rough but sharp.

“Yeah, a real party down here. You're here to join the fun.”

Leo’s lips curled into a dark chuckle.

“Tough act, sweetheart. Cute, really. But there’s a time and place for all that—”

He leaned in closer, eyes cold.

“—and right now, this isn’t it. So you’d better save it.”

I swallowed hard, refusing to look away.

“Save your lessons. I’m not scared of you.”

He sighed, the sound heavy and reluctant.

“I don’t get it,” he said after a pause, his voice low and edged with something sharper than concern.

“Why are you trying so damn hard to piss Alex off?”

I blinked slowly, keeping my face blank.

I lifted my chin, eyes blazing despite the exhaustion.

“Maybe I like knowing he’s rattled.”

I met his gaze, voice steady.

“Or maybe I just don’t give a damn what he thinks.”

Leo tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to figure out if I was stupid, brave, or just broken.

“You think this is a game?” he continued, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“You keep poking the lion and expecting what—mercy?”

He scoffed.

“You don’t understand the man you’re dealing with. You think he’s just another overcompensating thug playing dress-up with blood on his hands?”

He shook his head slowly.

“Alexander Dimitri doesn’t play. He’s precise. Calculated. When he decides you’re not worth the breath it takes to keep you alive… he won’t hesitate. Not for a second. Not even to blink.”

I turned my head, jaw tightening, wrists raw and burning against the ropes.

“So what, you’re his personal warning label now?” I rasped, voice hoarse.

“Here to read the fine print before he guts me?”

Leo didn’t flinch.

“No. I’m the only one in this house stupid enough to offer you a sliver of a chance.”

His gaze darkened.

“But don’t confuse that with protection. If you keep pushing him—keep testing how far he’ll go—there won’t be anything left of you to threaten. He’ll break you in ways that make death look like a mercy.”

My stomach turned, but I forced my lips into a weak smirk.

I forced my lips into a weak smirk.

“Sounds like a real charmer.”

Leo leaned back in the chair, his jaw tightening just slightly.

“He’s not,” he said quietly.

“He’s a storm wearing skin. And you—” he pointed at me with two fingers,

“You keep standing out in the open like you think thunder’s just noise.”

He sat back slowly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to keep a leash on something.

“You think you’re provoking a man. You’re not. You’re provoking something that forgot how to be human a long time ago.”

He stood slowly, the legs of the chair scraping again.

“I’ve seen him destroy men for less. But you? He keeps holding himself back. That should terrify you.”

I tried to laugh, bitter and hollow.

“Yeah, whatever! I’m just collateral. A pawn. Once my father pays up—”

“Wrong,” Leo snapped.

“If it were just about the debt, you’d already be gone. He wouldn’t waste his time.”

He walked toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“He’s obsessed with you. And that might sound like protection to someone stupid. But obsession? That’s a dangerous thing. Especially when it comes from someone like him.”

Leo turned to glance at me one last time.

“So stop testing your limits, girl. Because if you push too far, you won’t like who he becomes. And I won’t lift a finger to help you when that happens.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, the air scraping like sandpaper down my raw throat.

“Leo…” I rasped, barely above a whisper.

“Please. Just—my hands. At least untie them.”

The words burned coming out, broken from hours of screaming, crying, begging. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else—someone fragile and defeated.

Leo stopped mid-step, his boots stilling against the floor.

He turned slowly, his eyes locking on mine. For a moment, something flickered across his face—hesitation… or maybe guilt.

But it wasn’t kindness. Not really.

Just a glimpse of pity he didn’t know what to do with.

He said nothing

The door shut behind him with a dull, final thud.

And I was left alone, the silence pressing in heavier than ever.

Leo’s words kept bouncing around in my skull, over and over.

He’s obsessed with you… And that should terrify you.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my forehead against my shoulder as I tried to ignore the sting from my wrists.

I wasn’t going to sit here quietly like some caged pet while the monster who took everything from me paced around outside deciding what he wanted next.

I hated him.

I hated that he made my chest ache and my body tremble—sometimes with fear, sometimes with something far worse.

I hated the way he looked at me like I belonged to him.

And more than anything, I hated the part of me that sometimes wondered what would happen if I gave in.

Just do as he says, and you’ll be better off…

No.

Better off was freedom.

Better off was a world without Alexander Dimitri.

And yet—when I closed my eyes, I saw him.

That expression he wore when he looked at the bruise on my face.

The rage in his eyes when he saw the blood on my lip.

The way his voice trembled—not with fear, but with fury—as he crushed Dante’s throat.

He was going to kill him.

Not because it was right.

But because of me.

I shivered, not from cold—but from something deeper. Something that scared me.

Because for the first time… I wasn’t sure who I was more afraid of.

The man who took me.

Or the girl I was becoming around him.