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“Both come with a remote,” Alessandro explains excitedly, “With one push of a button, it sends an electric shock to either her neck or her ass. Trust me, she’ll do whatever you want after you do this a few times.” He laughs, and the rest of the men at the table join in… including Alaric.
My blood runs cold, and for the first time today, I feel just as uncomfortable having Alaric by my side as Alessandro.
“Shall we try it out?” one of the men at the table suggests.
“She’s done well today. I’ll keep this one for when she actually misbehaves,” Alaric tells them as he picks up the collar to inspect it. “She won’t be able to break this?”
“No, once it’s on, you can only remove it with the code you set yourself. There is no way she’ll get it off.”
“Good to know. She hasn’t tried to run yet, but I’m sure she will eventually. This will come in handy.” Alaric sets the collar back in the box.
Cold sweat runs down my back as fear sets in, real bone-crushing fear. That terror only reaches a new height when Savio chimes into the conversation.
“Alaric, come have a cigar with me at the pool. I’m sure Alessandro will find a way to entertain your new bride.”
No, no, no. Instinctively, I grab Alaric’s forearm. Digging my nails into his suit-covered arm, I plead with him to stay without saying a word. That hope is crushed when he grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away.
“A cigar sounds great,” he says nonchalantly and gets up from his chair. He doesn’t even look at me. “Behave yourself, Monroe,” he warns before turning around and walking away, leaving me behind more scared and confused than ever.
I watch Savio and Alaric disappear from the room and out to the terrace. The glass door closes behind them, and dread pools in my gut. They walk away until I can’t see either one of them anymore, and I feel like someone just died. I’m just not sure who? Did I lose Alaric, or did I lose myself?
All thoughts evade my mind when a hand wraps around the back of my neck. Alessandro’s fingers tighten as he forces me to turn back to face him.
“Oh sweet Monroe, we’re going to have so much fun together.”
My chest heaves, and I feel like I can't get enough air into my lungs. How could Alaric leave me with him? How can he break that fragile trust we had built? I feel utterly betrayed and abandoned. But above all, I’m scared of what’s to come.
22
Alaric
I can hear Monroe’s screams echo through the house and move faster. I’ve heard so many over the years, and not once did it affect me the way Monroe’s pained cry does. It feels like a dagger to my chest, cracking open the icy exterior of my frozen heart, creating a deep ache I’ve never felt before.
Before I met Monroe, I wondered if I had lost my soul altogether and, with it, my ability to feel compassion, to care about another person at all, let alone love someone. But at this very moment, I realize I do love her. I don’t even know when it happened; I just know that her pain is my pain. Her life is mine, and I will do anything to keep her safe, even if that means dying.
Without a doubt, I would die for her, which is exactly why I tighten the grip on my raised gun as I speed walk down the hallway. When I get back to the dining room door, I don’t pause. I don’t wait another minute. I kick her heavy door open and storm into the room like a one-man army.
The element of surprise is the most valuable asset I have, and I use it wisely. Before anyone in the room knows what’s happening, I fire the first shot, hitting Vinny right between the eyes. Before his body has time to slumps down to the ground, I’ve already fired another shot at Bruno. Unfortunately, the bastard twists around quickly, and I only hit his shoulder.
“What the fuck!” he roars while pulling his own gun. But this time, I’m faster. I fire my gun again, hitting him in the side of the head. His body goes slack, joining Vinny’s lifeless form on the ground.
“Traitor!” Alessandro spits, drawing my attention to him. He holds Monroe by the neck, a knife pressed against the skin right below her skin. Her face is red, and her eyes are puffy. Tears fall down her beautiful fear-struck face. The top of her wedding dress is ripped, the silky fabric hanging off her shoulder like an old rag.
Rage. All I can feel is unbridled rage flowing through my veins, taking over every fiber of my body. I move on instinct, stepping toward them, toward the woman I love, who needs me more than ever.
