Chapter 394 396

Chapter 394 396
But I do have a deadline. I have a wedding to prepare for. And you’re right—she’s not the kind of woman who can be forced. She needs to be… convinced.”

He snaps out the last word like a death sentence. And that nasty gleam in his eyes says he’s found a new approach to try out on her.

Fuck. I don’t like the sound of that.

Rokiades turns and struts out of the small, dark warehouse, leaving me tethered to the wooden poles. I strain against them, but the cuffs are too strong. They’re checked and tightened every few hours, too, so that any progress I make loosening them is rendered moot.

I’m stuck.

And somewhere out there, a sickening old man is laying his hands on Renata.

About half an hour later, the door opens again. Rokiades enters.

Except this time, he’s not alone.

I recognize Renata’s silhouette even from a distance. She’s lost weight since I last saw her. Was that only a few weeks ago? It seems like so much longer.

I feel the physical pain melt away and rage takes over. I have to curb the anger for now, though. It’s the only thing that can blow this whole debacle wide open.

Rokiades is smiling as he forces Renata forward. She’s dressed in a tight black minidress that’s paired with inappropriately tall heels, high enough that she looks like she might totter over at any moment. Her face is slathered with makeup and her eyes look huge and sunken against her hollow cheeks.

The beauty is still there, though it’s hidden behind the doll that Rokiades has shaped her into for himself.

Motherfucker.

Renata’s eyes are wide with shock and horror as she takes me in. They scour over my body, landing on every bruise, scrape, and cut like they’re a personal affront. She winces, too, as if she feels the pain I feel.

She takes a step forward as though to close the gap between us, but Rokiades snags her arm and pulls her to a stop next to him. “That’s close enough, glikia mu,” he croons, his tone reeking of insincerity. “I thought I’d give you an early wedding present.”

I notice there are ligature marks on her wrists and around her ankles. It seems like the fucker keeps her tied up. My anger burns another notch hotter.

“Kian…” Renata murmurs, ignoring Rokiades.

Jesus. Her voice. Her fucking voice. Seeing me like this pains her. That’s etched all over the tortured edges of her tone.

She says it again: “Oh, Kian…”

I refuse to make eye contact. She should know better than to act like she cares in front of him.

She whirls on the Greek. “What have you done to him?” she demands. She smacks him in the chest, but he flicks her aside like a horsefly.

“Only what he deserves,” Yannis replies with a shrug.

She shakes her head in horrified disbelief. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Now, that’s a much more interesting question,” he acknowledges happily. “The best thing to do, of course, would be to dispose of him.”

Her body jerks, but her eyes fall back on me. She doesn’t say anything. It’s as though she’s realized what a vulnerable position she’s just put herself in.

“Is that what you’d like, Renata?” Rokiades asks. “Would you like if Kian O’Sullivan were to simply”—he snaps his fingers—“disappear?”

She never takes her eyes off me. She looks angry, but is that anger directed at me? A part of it definitely seems to be.

“How did you even manage to capture him?” she asks.

Rokiades scoffs. “It was easier than his reputation would have you believe,” he says. “My men and I ambushed him. He fought… but not hard enough.”

Of course he’d change the story to make him sound tougher. Like I said, he’s a pitiful man. I don’t bother to dispute him.

“I had a bad cold that day,” I explain in a pained wheeze. “Sneezing so hard I couldn’t fire in a straight line.”

“Karl,” Rokiades growls.

One of his goons steps forward and slugs me in the stomach. I grunt. Blood flies out of my mouth. Across from me, I hear Renata gasp despite the sudden ringing in my ears.

Rokiades eyes me, wondering if he’s done enough to put me in place. I drag my eyes up to meet his, even as my head whirls with pain and deliriousness.

“Seriously,” I bite out through a cough, “had to bring a pack of tissues with me to the firefight and everything.”

The Greek snarls angrily. “Again!” he roars.

Confirmed: the man really doesn’t like humor.

I’m prepared for the second punch, though. I barely feel it—mostly because I’m waiting for Renata’s reaction. She’s cringing away from me, her eyes half-averted, and half-peeled, as though she can’t decide whether to look away or not.

Rokiades signals for the man to keep going. Karl rains blows on my exposed torso. I think I feel a rib crack at one point, though by now my whole body is such a blur of pain that I can’t be sure.

After a while, the Greek raises a hand and his thug stops assaulting me. “Would you like a go?” Rokiades offers, pushing Renata forward toward me.

She almost trips in her ridiculous high heels as she tries to push him away. “Stop this,” she whispers, so low I barely catch it.

“What was that?”

“Please… make him stop.”

Rokiades holds up his hand and his goon melts away into the background. I glance up to Renata, hoping that she’ll pay attention to the purpose in my eyes.

Let me be the one to suffer, I’m saying. I have the strength to get through this.

I don’t dare say the other part: that I fear she may not be strong enough for what he has in store for her.

“You care for him, don’t you, dear?” Rokiades asks.

She’s quiet for several long seconds. Refusing to take his bait.

“Hmm… maybe I’ve got it wrong. Karl, continue.”

The blow comes from the back this time, right at the middle of my spine. Feels like the bastard grabbed a club from somewhere unseen. I arch forwards and roar in agony as my eyes roll back towards the warehouse ceiling.

“No!” Renata bleats. “Stop!”

I feel her scream as though it’s echoing inside me. When my head sags forward again, Rokiades is gazing at Renata with a jealous triumph in his eyes.

“What will you do to make it stop?” he inquires gently.

I want to tell her not to say a word. Let me suffer, I plead again. I can take it. I’ll take it for you.

But she won’t look at me. Can’t see the message in my gaze. He’s laid the perfect trap… and she’s about to talk right into it.

“Anything,” she says. The word flies out of her in an agonized moan.

I feel my chest constrict uncomfortably. It’s a feeling I don’t recognize. One I’m not used to. One I’m woefully unprepared to deal with.

“Then it’s simple,” he says. “Marry me. Freely and willingly. In front of my friends, family, and colleagues. That is my condition. If you accept it, the beatings and the torture will cease.”

“You’ll release him?”

He snorts with laughter. “No, of course not. I am no fool. Kian O’Sullivan is a valuable asset and I will not set him free. At least not yet. But he will be given a room with a bed and three meals a day. And of course… no pain.”

Renata flinches. Her eyes flit up to mine.

I shake my head. Imperceptibly, but I’m almost certain she notices. And yet she ignores it.

“Fine,” she says, without missing a beat.

I don’t even have the energy to argue.

Rokiades looks positively euphoric. “Yes?”

She nods. “I’ll marry you.”

“How wonderful,” he says. “Well then, we’re engaged. Officially. How lucky you are to be here for it, Kian! A moment to remember.”

He puts a hand on Renata’s shoulder. I want to fucking break it off.

“Now, Renata, my love, let us seal the promise,” he serenades. “Give me a kiss, glikia mu.”