AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Images of what horrors Damien might have planned for me swarm my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. With a thud that reverberates through the hollow room, two men in suits enter. They position themselves at the door, one on each side, like grim, impassive statues. The room brims with an unspoken tension as they stand there, silent and unyielding.
"I didn't do anything," I plead, my voice hoarse and strained. The echo of my words hangs heavily in the air, each syllable a desperate cry for mercy. I look at them, straining against the binds with my heart pounding in my chest. "Please, let me go. I haven't done anything."
Their silence is answer enough. They don't move, don't so much as glance in my direction. It's as if I didn't speak. Desperation surges within me and with newfound vigor. "I don't even know why I'm here. I'm innocent!"
Again, only the echoing silence responds. The suits remain undeterred, with their gazes firmly fixed ahead, ignoring my existence. The cold reality sinks in. Pleading is futile. My words, no matter how sincere or desperate, fall on deaf ears. I don't know how long I've been pleading, but my words bounce off the walls, their heavy silence mocking my desperation.
Then, as if on cue, the monotony breaks. One of them, the one on the right, answers his phone. He listens attentively, his face impassive. I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. When he hangs up, he looks at me, his cold gaze sending shivers down my spine.
"The Boss is on his way," he announces, his voice devoid of emotion. I freeze, my blood turning cold. This is it. Damien is coming. He's coming to kill me.
12
CHAPTER 12
Damien
The ringing of my phone echoes through my office, mixing with the sounds of the night. I tear my eyes away from the surveillance video from the night of the party. So far, nothing stands out. I snag my phone out of my pocket and answer on the fourth ring.
"Speak," I bark into the phone.
"Got her, Boss," one of my men says.
"Take her to the warehouse," I growl before hanging up the phone.
I stand and walk around my desk to the liquor bar and pour myself a glass of whiskey. A hollow chuckle falls from my lips as I take a sip. Alcohol, as I've discovered in the last few months, has the ability to take away the rage, if only for a little while. I've finally got Isabella in my clutches, and I will get the answers I seek. I will finally make her suffer before letting the police have her.
A wave of relief washes over me, one I hadn't realized I'd been waiting for until this very moment. The glass of whiskey in my hand suddenly feels lighter, as if a weight has been removed from my shoulders. The weight of my brother's unsolved murder. Sitting alone in my office, the sweet taste of vengeance dances on my tongue, more intoxicating than the finest whiskey. Isabella is finally in my grasp.
I imagine the look on my mother's face when I tell her the news, the glimmer of relief in her eyes. The promise I made to her that Jackson’s killer would pay is finally on the brink of fulfillment. It's not just her. My sister, too, has been living under this dark cloud. Her eyes, usually so full of life, have been dulled by sadness since the day we lost Jackson. I can't help but hope that my actions might be able to bring back a fraction of the happiness that used to light up her face.
The pain in our hearts will never fully subside, but perhaps now, we can start to heal. We might start to find a semblance of peace, a glimmer of hope in the wake of Jackson's death.
I sink back into my swivel chair, pressing play on the surveillance footage. My focus sharpens on Isabella. I'm not scrutinizing her actions this time. Instead, I'm drawn to her allure. Her slender form and her curves beckon like a siren's song. Her smile, though not quite reaching her eyes, is undeniably hypnotic. Her beauty is undeniable, a fact I'd noted the first time our paths crossed, but one I had forced myself to disregard.
The soft glow of the monitor hits her face, casting a delicate light on her features. Her high cheekbones, her full lips that I imagined more times than I'd dare admit. Her hair falls in cascades, making me yearn to run my fingers through it. I swear under my breath, damning myself for these unexpected, unwelcome desires. Against my better judgment, I find myself consumed by a bitter realization. Had I met her before my brother, I would have had her in my bed by now.
However, this woman, as captivating as she may be, is nothing more than poison. A gold digger, a viper hiding in the shadow of a beauty. She's the one who silently crept into my brother's life, enchanting him only to sting lethally when he least expected it. The video continues to play, and her image dances before my eyes as a constant reminder of what I shouldn't long for.
The bitter taste of self-admonishment roils in my mouth as I reach for the power button, extinguishing the haunting image of Isabella from the screen. I wrench my gaze away, feeling a surge of self-loathing for the unbidden desires. I snatch my suit jacket off the back of my chair, shrugging it on as I stride towards the door of my office. I'm caught between anger and lust. It’s an intoxicating, dangerous mix.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I dial one of the numbers saved in my contacts. The line barely rings before one of my men answers.
"I want her stripped and hanging," I command, my voice edged with a ruthless determination.
Without waiting for a response, I end the call, the finality of the disconnected line mirroring the grim resolution in my heart. I step out into the chilly night, the cold wind biting through my suit as I make my way to my car. The sleek vehicle roars to life as I slide into the leather seat, the low rumble somehow grounding, bringing me back to the harsh reality of the situation. Before I pull out of the parking lot, I dial another number.
"I'm on my way," I announce, my voice as cold as the steel of my resolve.
Then, the call ends, leaving me alone with the purring engine and my swirling thoughts. With a determined grip on the steering wheel, I guide the car onto the deserted street. The city lights blur into a streak of colors as I drive away with Isabella's fate hanging in the balance.
As I navigate through the maze of city streets, my mind churns with a barrage of conflicting emotions. The thought of Isabella, vulnerable and at my mercy, fills me with a dark satisfaction. Yet, her image, the soft glow of the monitor highlighting her stunning features, continues to haunt me. The intoxicating blend of her beauty and the danger she represents sends a thrill coursing through my veins.
I try to rein in these unwelcome desires, steering my thoughts towards the cold, hard truth. That she is my brother's killer. The journey to the warehouse stretches ahead, shrouded in the unknown, much like the path my life is now taking.
I arrive at the warehouse ready to make Isabella suffer for her crime. Upon walking inside, I make my way to the back room to see her hanging in her bra and underwear, shivering from both the cold and fear. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she starts to struggle against the binds she’s hanging on.
"Your attempt is futile, so you may as well stop," I tell her as I approach.
