Chapter 10 " Rescued"
Elena slid off the table on shaky legs, thighs still trembling from Lucas’s mouth. Her panties? Gone. Stolen. That mafia king had tucked the black lace into his pocket with a wicked grin, eyes glinting like a dragon hoarding treasure. She huffed, half-annoyed, half-turned on, and fished a handkerchief from her tote. Wiping herself clean with quick, flustered swipes, she yanked her leggings back up, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. No panties. Bare under his hoodie. Obsessed bastard.
She left her tote and phone on the table he’d keep them safeand slipped out, barefoot, hoodie swallowing her frame. The office buzzed with quiet efficiency keyboards clacking, phones murmuring, the scent of coffee and gun oil. Employees froze as she wandered past, offering polite, knowing smiles.
Their boss’s wife, barefoot and glowing, roaming the empire like a queen in sweatpants.
Lara noticed.
Oh, she noticed.
Lucas was deep in the conference room, voice like a blade as he negotiated with high-profile clients arms dealers, politicians, men who feared his shadow. Lara sat at his right, tablet open, but her eyes tracked the clock. Twelve twenty-six. Elena was alone.
Perfect.
Elena felt the use washroom and asked a passing assistant, a kind-faced woman with a tight bun.
“Washroom?”
“Down the hall, left, third door. I’ll show you.”
The assistant led her to the executive bathroom, all marble and gold fixtures, and left with a smile. Elena slipped inside, locking the stall.
Click.
The lights died.
Pitch black. No hum of vents. No sliver of light under the door.
Elena’s heart lurched.
She hated the dark bone-deep, childlike terror unless Lucas was there, his arms a fortress, his voice a lighthouse. Alone? It was a grave.
She stumbled to the door, palms slapping the wood.
“OPEN THE DOOR! PLEASE!”
Her voice cracked, raw. “WHO’S THERE?”
Silence.
Lara had slipped in behind her, locked the main door, and vanished.
Elena screamed, pounded, sobbed. “PLEASE!”
Her knees buckled. She slid to the floor, hoodie soaked with tears, a crying mess.
Ten minutes later – 12:36 p.m.
Lucas stormed out of the meeting, tie loose, eyes wild.
“Where’s my butterfly?”
Employees scattered. One assistant stammered, “M-Madam went to the washroom, sir. Hasn’t come back ”
“What the fuck were you doing, staring at your ass?” he roared.
A tech ran up, pale. “Boss bathroom power’s cut. Some wiring issue ”
Lucas’s blood turned to ice.
“She’s scared of the dark.”
He sprinted.
The hallway blurred. He slammed into the bathroom door, shoulder first CRASH wood splintering. Emergency lights flickered on, casting red shadows.
Elena was curled on the floor, hoodie pulled over her head, shaking, sobbing his name like a prayer.
“Lucas—Lucas ”
He dropped to his knees, scooping her into his arms, crushing her to his chest.
“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”
She clung to him, face buried in his neck, tears soaking his shirt.
“Dark couldn’t ”
“Shh. Never again.”
His voice was lethal calm, but his eyes when they flicked to the broken lock, the empty hallway were death.
Lara was nowhere.
But Lucas Romeo always found his prey.
He carried Elena out, her legs wrapped around his waist, hoodie riding up, employees parting like the Red Sea.
“Find who did this,” he snarled to Viktor. “I want them bleeding in ten.”
Elena whimpered, fingers twisted in his hair.
“Just take me home.”
He kissed her temple, voice soft for her, only her.
“Home, butterfly. Then I burn the world for you.”
The lights flickered back on.
But the darkness?
It was coming for someone else.
The Maybach roared up the gravel drive, tires spitting stones. Lucas didn’t wait for Viktor to open the door he kicked it open himself, Elena cradled in his arms like fragile glass. She hadn’t let go since the bathroom: legs locked around his waist, arms vise-tight around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. Her breath hitched against his skin, small, shuddering sobs she couldn’t quite silence.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, over and over, like a broken record. “Don’t ”
“Never,” he growled, kicking the mansion door shut behind them. “Never again, baby.”
He carried her straight to the master bath marble floors, skylight pouring gold, the tub already running because the staff knew. Steam curled like incense. Lucas set her on the vanity, but she clung harder, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Off,” he murmured, peeling the hoodie over her head. It hit the floor with a wet thud soaked with tears, sweat, fear. Her leggings followed, then the rest, until she was bare, trembling, his.
He lifted her again, stepped into the tub, and sank into the water fully clothed shirt, trousers, boots because she wouldn’t let go. The heat enveloped them, rose oil slicking their skin. Elena straddled his lap, forehead pressed to his, water lapping at her waist.
Lucas’s hands lethal hands were gentle now. He cupped water, let it cascade over her shoulders, washing away the salt of her tears. His thumbs traced the bruises on her hips, the faint red marks from the table, his marks, but now he kissed each one like an apology.
“Shh, butterfly,” he whispered, voice raw. “I’ve got you.”
He lathered a cloth with lavender soap, dragging it slow over her collarbone, between her breasts, down her spine. Every touch was worship: the way he lifted her arms to wash beneath them, the way he tilted her chin to rinse her neck, the way he cradled her head when he shampooed her hair, fingers massaging until her eyes fluttered shut.
She was clingy legs locked around his waist, arms around his neck, lips brushing his jaw every few seconds like she needed to feel he was real. He let her. Encouraged it. Held her tighter.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, rinsing suds from her hair. “Always.”
When the water cooled, he lifted her out, wrapped her in a towel the size of a blanket, and carried her to the bedroom. She wouldn’t let him set her down not even to change. So he sat on the edge of the bed, her in his lap, and peeled off his soaked shirt one-handed, tossing it aside.
Elena curled into him, cheek to his chest, listening to the thunder of his heart.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered again, smaller now.
He kissed her temple, her eyelids, the tip of her nose.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not ever.”
He tucked them both under the covers, her body molded to his, legs tangled, her head on his shoulder. His hand stroked her back in slow, endless circles until her breathing evened out, until the trembling stopped.
“Don’t leave.”
He’d kissed her forehead.
“Sleep, butterfly. I’ll be back.”
Romeo Empire Headquarters – 3:47 p.m.
The security vault.
Forty screens.
Viktor’s voice, flat and final
“Lara. Keycard. Fuse box. Panties. Note. Port. Suicide.”
Lucas didn’t blink.
“Catch her corpse. Bring it to the dungeon. I want to see the bitch bleed.”
Viktor nodded..
Two black SUVs peeled out.
Lara’s body, still warm, throat gaping, was dragged from the cargo hold.
Dungeon – 4:15 p.m
Concrete. Chains.
Lara’s corpse hung by the wrists, blood dripping like slow rain.
Lucas stood in front of her, shirt sleeves rolled, knuckles already split.
He didn’t speak.
Just slapped her lifeless face, once, twice, CRACK.
Then drove his fist into her gut, her jaw, her ribs, again and again, until bone cracked and blood painted the floor.
“You made my baby cry.”
His voice was winter.
“You don’t get peace.”
Lara’s head lolled. She laughed wet, broken.
“She’s a child,” she spat, blood dripping. “A stupid little girl in your hoodie. I run your empire. I earned you.”
CRACK.
Harder.
Her jaw cracked.
“Confess.”
Lara’s eyes wild, mad locked on his.
“I love you,” she rasped. “I’d kill for you. I’d die for you. That bitch? She’s nothing. A doll. I’d lock her in a box and watch her rot if it meant you’d look at me ”
CRACK..
His fist this time.
Teeth scattered like pearls.
“You don’t say her name.”
He grabbed her throat, lifted her until her toes scraped concrete.
“You don’t breathe near her.”
Lara choked, smiled through blood.
“She’ll never be me.”
Lucas leaned close, voice a whisper of death.
“You’re already dead.”
He released her.
She crumpled, chain rattling
He spat on her corpse.
Turned.
“Burn it. Scatter the ashes in the sewer.”
Romeo Estate – 5:10 p.m.
The mansion was silent, golden hour spilling through the windows.
Lucas stripped in the doorway, shirt, belt, trousers, boots, all soaked in blood and rage.
He left them in a pile.
Naked, he slipped into the bedroom.
Elena slept on her side, curled like a comma, only in his black hoodie.
The hem rode up to her hips, revealing the soft curve of her ass, the faint bruises from last night’s love.
Her hair fanned across the pillow, lips parted, breath slow.
He slid in behind her, skin to skin.
Gently, reverently, he peeled the hoodie up and off, tossing it aside.
She stirred, murmured his name, but didn’t wake.
He pulled her flush against him, her back to his chest, legs tangled.
His cock, half-hard from the sight of her, brushed the slick heat of her pussy, once, twice, but he didn’t push in.
Just held her.
Arms banded around her waist, one hand splayed over her heart, the other cupping her breast.
His lips pressed to the nape of her neck, breathing her in, lavender, sleep, home.
“I took care of it, butterfly,” he whispered into her skin.
“No one will ever hurt you again.”
She sighed in her sleep, pressing back into him, safe.
Outside, the empire burned.
Inside, Lucas Romeo held his wife like she was the only light in his world.
And for the first time in hours, he slept.
The first light of dawn slipped through the silk curtains, painting gold across the bed. Elena stirred first, a soft whimper escaping as the nightmare of darkness tried to claw her back.
Lucas’s arms tightened instantly, even in sleep, pulling her closer until her back was flush against his chest, her ass cradled against his hips. His cock, morning-hard and heavy, nestled between her thighs, brushing her bare pussy with every slow breath, but he didn’t move. Just held.
She turned in his arms, nose brushing his throat, inhaling cedar and gunpowder and him. Her fingers traced the fresh split on his knuckles, the dried blood under his nails.
“You went somewhere,” she whispered, voice still hoarse from crying.
Lucas’s eyes opened, storm-gray and soft only for her.
“Took care of the trash,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she climbed on top of him, knees bracketing his hips, palms flat on his chest. The hoodie was gone she was gloriously naked, skin glowing in the dawn.
“I need to feel you,” she breathed. “All of you.”
He let her take control, slow, reverent, hers.
She sank down onto his cock in one slick glide, both of them groaning at the stretch. No rush. No brutality. Just them.
Her hips rolled in lazy circles, his hands guiding her waist, thumbs stroking the bruises he’d left days ago.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She did, eyes locked on his, tears and love and trust.
He sat up, wrapping her legs around his back, mouth finding her breast, tongue swirling her nipple until she sobbed his name.
They came together, quiet, shattering, whole, her forehead pressed to his, his arms the only cage she’d ever want.
After, he carried her to the bath again.
This time, she let him wash her hair, let him kiss every inch of skin the dark had touched.
She let him feed her strawberries from his fingers, let him dress her in one of his white dress shirts, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hem brushing mid-thigh.
Romeo Empire Headquaters
The boardroom was silent.
Every seat filled.
Lara’s chair, empty.
Lucas stood at the head, Elena perched on the table beside him, legs swinging, his shirt swallowing her frame.
He didn’t speak.
Just slid a single photograph across the table: Lara’s corpse, throat gaping, eyes glassy.
Then a second the note, “Butterflies burn easy.”
“Anyone else want to test me?”
His voice was winter.
No one breathed.
Elena leaned over, kissed his jaw, and whispered loud enough for the room
“Tell them what happens to people who scare your wife.”
Lucas’s smile was slow, lethal.
“They don’t get graves.”
He lifted her off the table, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her out, past the bowing empire.
Outside, the world spun on.
Inside the Romeo Empire, one truth reigned:
Touch the butterfly, and Lucas Romeo burns you to ash.
To be continued....