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All my muscles locked up tight: an instinctive response to having a gun to my head. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in a life-threatening situation. I’d always survived. I would get through this, too.
Although, I usually relied on the help of my friends to fight our way through danger. But my closest, most loyal friends must be far away from this hellhole by now. I hoped they were.
I hoped Lorenzo had survived the gunshot wound he’d sustained during our doomed raid to rescue Nora. His brother, Gabriele, had gotten him into the safety of the armored SUV.
They wouldn’t be fit to come for me anytime soon. Too many of my men had been wounded in that attack. Another assault on Dante’s home would only end in more carnage.
No, my friends wouldn’t be here to save me this time. I had to save myself. And Nora.
The man who wasn’t holding a gun on me unlocked the shackle around my left wrist. I gritted my teeth against the flash of pain when the metal was pulled from my raw flesh. I wouldn’t make a single move. Not yet.
I swallowed my pride as he freed my other limbs, pretending to be cowed by the gun. Having the men see me like this—naked and used—sent a fresh wave of fiery shame rolling though me. My entire body was hot, my skin too tight.
But I could endure it. I had to.
Saving Nora from that sadistic monster was all that mattered now.
Dante would scream before I killed him.
The last of the shackles fell away, and the men took a step back. The one with the gun gestured for me to stand.
I moved slowly, feigning caution. I had to kill them but prevent the gun from being fired. That would alert Dante, and I would have no chance at getting to him before he sent the full force of his men against me.
When I got to my feet, I held both hands up in a show of contrition.
“Turn around,” the unarmed one commanded. I noted the weapon holstered at his side, but he hadn’t drawn it yet. I’d have to handle him before he had the chance.
I didn’t move. I stared at them, my eyes narrowed in challenge.
The armed man stepped toward me, swinging the gun to bludgeon me for my defiance.
The moment the weapon was no longer trained on my heart, I exploded into violence. I grabbed his upraised wrist and twisted, snapping bone and rendering his trigger finger useless. His scream echoed through the dungeon as I turned to handle the second threat. The other guard was reaching for his gun. I launched myself at him, landing a solid punch to his jaw before sidestepping his reeling body. My hands bracketed his skull, and I wrenched his neck to the side with a swift, sharpcrack.
I dropped the dead man and turned to face the one with the broken wrist. He was diving for the gun, which had fallen from his limp fingers. I tackled him, and we both slammed onto the floor. He reached for the gun with his good hand, fingers scrabbling for the weapon. I grabbed his hair and yanked him back, sliding his entire body a few feet away from his goal. His howl of pain was cut short when I wrapped my arm around his neck, cutting off his air supply. I squeezed, crushing his windpipe as he thrashed beneath me. His boots drummed against the floor for several seconds as his body struggled for survival.
But he’d been dead from the moment he’d stepped into this room and witnessed my humiliation. Snarling, I increased the pressure on his throat. The drumming sound slowed and then stopped, and the man went limp and lifeless.
Their deaths had been too quick. My blood boiled in my veins, adrenaline surging. I was eager for more violence, more retribution.
I would get the chance to kill again before Nora and I escaped from this estate. I would happily murder anyone who tried to stop me.
I didn’t have time to worry about my nakedness; I had to move before anyone came to investigate the dead men’s screams. At least the gun hadn’t been fired.
I grabbed the weapon and moved toward the open door, checking the hallway for more guards. When I saw that the corridor was mercifully clear, I snuck out, away from the awful dungeon where I’d been tormented in ways I never could’ve imagined.
This estate was entirely unfamiliar to me; I’d never had a reason to visit Dante’s home outside the city. We’d always done our best to avoid each other’s company. I should’ve kept a closer eye on him. His father had been a traitor. It shouldn’t have surprised me that Dante would be no different, even though he’d managed to earn my dad’s respect over the years.
The usurper would die today, and I would have everything that was rightfully mine, including my wife.
I began a cautious, methodical search of the mansion, checking each darkened room before moving on to the next. As time crawled by, unease began to eat away at the righteous rage that’d fueled my initial escape. I should’ve encountered more guards by now. The silence and stillness set my teeth on edge. Surely, someone would’ve discovered the dead men. Everyone should be on high alert, hunting for me.
But there were no boots stomping through the massive house, no men shouting for my blood.
Fear fluttered deep in my chest. The last time I’d hunted Dante—when I’d led the assault on this estate and easily smashed through his defenses—I’d run straight into a trap.
I tamped down the budding panic. Fear was a weakness, and I had to stay strong and sharp.
But it became harder to resist as I continued to stalk through the eerily quiet mansion. My hand shook with unspent adrenaline, and I firmed it around the gun before it could fall from my unsteady fingers.
