The man grins wide, the darkness in his eyes barely even scratching the surface of what I’m used to, but unlike the brothers, this man has no intention of stopping. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t quite place him, too fucking terrified to even begin going through all the faces I’ve had to memorize over the past week.
“Finally,” he mutters to himself, his eyes lowering with a sick excitement.
I scramble back, desperately trying to get my feet under me, but he’s coming too fast. “You’ve got the wrong person. I … I don’t even know you. I didn’t do anything.”
“No?” he grins wide, grabbing hold of me and raising me up high off the dirty ground. “So you weren’t the girl who stabbed my baby brother?”
“What?” I rush out, dread sinking heavily into my gut. “Who?”
“DRAVEN MILLER,” he roars. “Those fucking DeAngelis brothers slaughtered him like a fucking animal. They took everything from me, and word around here is that you’re their new little toy.”
He tosses me to the hard, dirty ground and I scramble back again, scurrying to my feet. Without looking over my shoulder, I take off like a fucking rocket, getting only three steps before he kicks my feet out from under me. I slam down to the dirt road, winding myself and struggling to breathe, barely managing to flip myself over just in time to see him coming for me again. “You can’t get away from me, sweetheart, not until I’ve destroyed you just like they did my brother.”
He grabs me again, dragging me through the woods as I scream out in agony, the sharp twigs and branches effortlessly slicing through my skin. “LET ME GO,” I scream. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.”
He just laughs and I feel my whole world sinking away. They’re never going to find me out here.
He finally stops and my eyes go wide seeing an old storm cellar and I barely get a chance to process what’s going on before he raises the hatch and throws me down the old wooden steps. He follows me down, pulling an old string and lighting up the room as the hatch slams closed above his head with a loud thud.
I scurry away as he continues to descend until my back slams against a porcelain bathtub in the center of the lonely room. “What the fuck is this?” I breathe, watching as Draven’s older brother stalks me, my eyes wide.
He stops and steps to the side where a long table spans the width of the room. All sorts of weapons line the table, old and covered in rust, the kind of shit that I’m going to need to get a tetanus shot for if I somehow survive this.
His finger brushes along the table, carefully considering exactly how he’s going to do this as he turns his back on me, absolutely positive that I bear no threat to him, and he’d be right. There’s no way I’d be able to get up the stairs and open the hatch before he caught me. And apart from the bathtub at my back, there’s nothing else in the room.
“Stand,” he orders, still casually going through his selections and wrapping his hands around a thick material before testing its resilience.
“Get fucked,” I spit, my gaze focused on the way he slowly turns, the material bound around his knuckles.
With a clenched jaw, he narrows his stare in fury. “I’m not going to ask you again. Stand.”
I hold my ground, not daring to move as he strides toward me. Then taking a page out of Giovanni’s torture handbook, his hand whips out and slaps hard across my face. “STAND,” he roars, spit flying from his mouth.
Tears fill my eyes as the sharp sting rocks through the side of my face. This guy is much bigger than Giovanni, and fuck, his hit packs a fuckload more power. Not prepared to put myself through that one again, I grip the edge of the bathtub and shakily get to my feet.
My heart pounds heavily in my chest, the dread sinking into my gut and weighing me down. He nods toward the bathtub, his eyes sparkling with a savage cruelty. “Get in,” he purrs.
Tears stain my cheeks as I shake my head. If I get into that bath, it’s all over for me. Nothing good could possibly come from it. “They’re going to kill you,” I warn him. “They won’t stop until your heart is sitting on their fucking shelf like a trophy.”
His grin only widens. “Oh, believe me, I hope they come,” he laughs. “I’m ready for them, but first, I need to entice that rage within them.”
He nods to the bathtub again, stepping even closer and sending a shiver right down my spine. “Get in,” he repeats, twisting the material around his hands. “Don’t try to make this difficult for yourself because, in the end, you’re the only one who’s going to suffer. Fair warning though, I love a challenge.”