Chapter 17
Dante stepped into the basement, rolling up his sleeves with one hand, giving a glims of his vainy arms. The metallic scent of blood and the screams of mens getting tortured in another room filled the space.
His cold gaze zeroed in on the man kneeling before him, the boss of the gang who had dared to attack him.
The bastard was bound, his hands tied behind his back, a fresh gunshot wound seeping through his stomach. Yet, he still had the audacity to smirk. A cruel, arrogant gleam in his eyes. But not for too long.
Dante stared at the man, his expression unreadable. His silence was more terrifying than any threat.
Dante Romano, Give the girl to us, and we’ll let this go,” the man rasped, smirking despite the blood dripping from his lips. “Walk away while you still can, Romano. You don’t understand what you’re up against.”
Dante chuckled, a dark, humorless sound, not in amusement, but in something darker. Something unhinged.
He crouched lower, resting his elbows on his knees as if they were just having a casual conversation. His fingers tapped lazily against his thigh, the rhythm slow, deliberate, mocking.
“The girl?” Dante mused, tilting his head. His voice was eerily calm, almost amused, but his eyes… cold, empty, dead,
The man groaned, his breath coming in short gasps as blood oozed from the gunshot wound in his stomach. He still tried to keep up his bravado, his lips twitching into a smirk. A foolish mistake.
“Y–you don’t understand, Romano,” he coughed, wincing. “Hand her over, while you still can Romano or no one can save you and your family–”
CRACK.
The sickening sound of breaking fingers echoed through the basement as Dante gripped the man’s hand and bent it backward, snapping three fingers like twigs.
The bastard’s scream was raw, guttural.
Dante barely blinked. He sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“You talk too much.”
His hand moved to the man’s jaw, gripping it with crushing force as he forced him to look into his eyes.
“Who. Sent. You?”
The man panted, his pupils blown wide with pain, but he still held onto his arrogance. Another mistake.
Dante chuckled softly, almost like he was enjoying this.
Then, without warning, he grabbed the bullet wound and shoved his thumb into it.
The man’s entire body jerked violently. A choked scream ripped from his throat, eyes rolling back in agony as Dante pressed deeper, twisting his thumb, feeling the torn flesh and shattered muscle beneath.
He leaned in, whispering against the man’s ear, “You see… I could kill you. I should kill you. But that would be too easy. And I’m not in the mood for casy.”
He pulled back just enough to watch the man’s face twist in suffering.
Dante’s fingers trailed over the gleaming instruments of torture, his touch almost tender.
Blades. Pliers. A blowtorch. Rusty nails.
So many choices.
He hummed, tapping a scalpel against his palm. “What should I use today?” His voice was soft, almost thoughtful, but his eyes? Pure, merciless cruelty.
The man whimpered, his bravado completely shattered. Sweat poured down his face as his breath hitched, terror replacing whatever foolish arrogance he had left.
Dante picked up a pair of rusted pliers and crouched before him, gripping his broken fingers.
“You know, I could be gentle,” he mused, twisting the injured fingers just slightly, enough to make the man let out a strangled sob. “But where’s the fun in that?
Chapter 17
With one sharp pull, he yanked the man’s fingernail clean off. Blood splashed on his face and cloths.
The blood–curdling scream that followed sent a shiver down even the guards‘ spines.
Dante only smiled, admiring the way the blood dripped onto the cold concrete.
“Now,” he whispered, leaning in, his breath ghosting over the man’s trembling face. “Shall we try again?
Present-
0
Dante’s Office
Dante let out a dark chuckle, the sound low and dangerous. He leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked onto Elara like a predator playing with its prey.
“Do you really think I need you to control the Russian mafia?” His voice was low, almost amused, but laced with something far more sinister. “If i wanted, I could carve your father’s heart out with my own hands, watch the life drain from his eyes. His empire? It’s already mine. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
“Then why haven’t you, killed him yet?” She shuttered biting her lips.
Dante’s smirk widened, something wicked glinting in his dark eyes. He gripped her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to hold his gaze.” Become of you Amore” his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin just enough to make her wince. “You’re more useful alive than dead.”
Fear and confusion flashed in her eyes.
He pulled back “You think offering yourself to me is some grand sacrifice?” He laughed. “You were already mine the moment you stepped into my world. “His hand trailed down, wrapping around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her pulse race.
Dante’s smirk softened into something more dangerous something more possessive.
“Since you’ve finally realized this, I’d love to accept your proposal” His voice was low, taunting.
“But I’ve had enough of whore’s Amore.”
Dante left her throat, only to yank her even closer. He could almost hear her fast heartbeat. His lips just a breath away from hers. “I want more than just your body. I want your name. Your loyalty. Your submission.”
“Marry me. Elara. Let the world know you belong to me!*
His words echoed in her skull like a gunshot. Elara’s breath caught in her throat.
The words should have filled her with joy. Should have made her feel wanted, cherished, like the fairy tales her mother once whispered to her at night.
But fairy tales didn’t exist. Not for her.
Her entire life had been a battle for scraps of love that were never hers to claim.
She had begged for her father’s love, done everything to please him, yet be cast her aside like she was nothing. A burden. A mistake.
Her grandparents, the only family she had left, treated her like the dust beneath their shoes, a reminder of something they despised.
She had long given up on love.
But her mother… her mother had always told her something different
“One day, Elara, when you marry, your husband will love you. He will cherish you. He will protect you
Her mother had spoken of love like it was an unbreakable row wrimen in the stars.
And for years. Elara had clung to that fragile hope.
A man who wanted to own bez. A man who had rejected her before, crushed her, humlined her, compared her to a whore and still her heart seem to beat for him. Why he has the ability to manupait her heart? Why he has such power over her?
“Did you fell in love with met
The question slipped out besser she could stop it, her voice softer than she intended Vulnerable. Exposed
For her marriage means abway love but here, she knew he don’t love her. As she looked at his smirk. She suddenly hated herself for wanting his
Chapter 17
A flicker of something dark crossed Dante’s eyes. His grip on her waist tightened.
“Does it matter?” he murmured.” Dante Romano don’t do love terso. You better keep that in mind”
Hurt
Elara’s fingers curled into trembling fists at her sides as she took a deep, shaky breath.
“If I marry you,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “will you help my brother?”
Dante’s jaw clenched. His dark eyes narrowing at her words.
“You agree?”
A bitter smile ghosted her lips,the kind that wasn’t really a smile at all.
“Isn’t that what Mr. Dante Romano asked for?” she murmured, her voice laced with bitterness.
She lifted her gaze to meet his, letting him see the surrender, the helplessness, the raw ache beneath her strong facard.
“As long as you help Elion, I…” Her throat tightened. “I’ll marry you.”
The moment the words left her lips. His entire body tensed, his grip on her waist tightening, as if her agreement had ignited something dangerous inside him.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, burned into hers, not with satisfaction, but with something fiercer.
He hated the way she said it.
Hated the way she smiled like she was being dragged to her grave.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. His fingers moved, slowly, trailing up her spine until they rested against the delicate curve of her throat.
His voice, was dangerously low. Soft, as he spoke “I don’t do love, Elara Ashford.”
Her chest tightened. She already knew that.
“But after marrying me…” His thumb brushed over her lips “I promise you won’t regret it.”
Elara swallowed hard, her lips parting slightly.
“I will give you everything you could ever want. Anything in this world. Expect love”
His breath fanned over her cheek, intoxicating and suffocating all at the same time.
“You will never have to fear anyone,” he murmured.
Then his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his next words sending a shiver down her spine.
“Just fear me.”
Her pulse hammered.
“Love me. Hate me. Curse me.” His grip tightened, possessive, unyielding. “Only me.”
Elara’s breath hitched.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she glared at him. “Are you bipolar?” she hissed, her voice laced with frustration. One moment, he was cruel and distant, the next, he was demanding her submission like a lovesick tyrant.
Dante merely smirked, unfazed by her anger. His lips hovered just above hers. “So, what do you say, love?” His voice was like a velvet trap, smooth and t
Sho
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