Blood Debt

I scoffed, stopping in front of him. “Fearless? I’m terrified. Every minute of every day. I’m just too damn stubborn to show it.”

His lips quirked. “Stubborn. Fearless. Potayto, potahto.” He closed the book, set it aside. “You came to the compound alone. Demanded answers from a man you knew could crush you like a bug. That’s not just stubborn, Lena. That’s either very brave or very stupid.”

“Maybe it’s both,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Maybe I’m both. But I had to know about Mikey. I had to try.”

“And look where it got you.” He stood, rising to his full height. He seemed to fill the small space, his presence a physical weight. “You’re mine now, Lena. For as long as I want you. Until I decide what to do with you.”

I flinched at the possession in his tone, the casual cruelty. “And what about Mikey? What did you decide to do with him?”

Something flickered in his eyes, gone too quick to read. “Your brother made his choices. He knew the risks. Just like you did.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him,” I hissed, stepping closer, my fists clenched at my sides. “Mikey’s a kid. He didn’t know what he was getting into. But you…you knew exactly what you were doing. You’re the monster here, Dante. Not me. Not Mikey.”

He moved fast, his hand snapping out to grab my chin, forcing my head back. His touch was firm, just shy of painful. “You have no idea what kind of monster I am, Lena,” he murmured, his breath hot against my face. “But you will. Before this is over, you’ll see every dark corner of me. And you’ll beg for more.”

I jerked my face away, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Never. I’ll never beg you for anything.”

“We’ll see about that.” He smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “We’ve got nothing but time.”

The days bled into weeks, marked only by the rising and setting of the sun outside the cabin’s single window. Dante’s obsession became a living thing, a third presence in the small space. He touched me constantly – a hand on my arm, his fingers brushing my hair back from my face, his body crowding mine in the cramped quarters.

I endured it. Played the meek captive, biding my time. I watched him, studying his patterns, his habits. The way he always checked the locks on the door and window before bed. The way he slept lightly, a gun always within reach.

And I plotted. Every moment I wasn’t under his direct gaze, my mind was working, calculating, planning my escape. I noted the lax moments of the guards outside, the times when the compound seemed to quiet, its occupants lulled into a false sense of security.

I kept a mental tally of every touch, every lingering look, every violation of my space. They were marks against him, debts to be collected when the time came. When I finally made my move.

Because I would. I had to. For Mikey. For myself.

Dante Moretti might think he owned me, body and soul. But he was wrong. I was Lena Carter, and I was going to burn his world to the ground around him.

Even if I burned with it.

The opportunity came on a night when the moon was a sliver of silver in the inky sky, the mountains around the compound silent and watchful. Dante had been drinking – not enough to be drunk, but enough to dull the sharp edges of his control. I’d seen the way his eyes lingered on me over dinner, the way his touch lingered a fraction too long when he handed me a bowl of stew.

I bided my time, waiting until he’d settled into his usual chair by the door, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. I feigned sleep, my breathing slow and even, my body relaxed under the thin blanket. I listened as his own breathing deepened, as the glass finally slipped from his fingers to thud softly on the rug.

I didn’t hesitate. Moving with the stealth born of desperation, I slid from the bed, my bare feet silent on the cold floorboards. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear and anticipation. This was it. My chance.

I’d spent weeks studying the cabin’s construction, the way the boards fit together, the weaknesses in the old structure. One board, near the back corner, had a knothole that had rotted through. I’d worked at it in secret, whenever Dante was out of the cabin, using a fork I’d stolen from one of our meals to slowly, painstakingly widen the hole.

It was just big enough for me to wiggle through, my body scraping against the rough wood as I squeezed into the cool night air. I didn’t look back. I ran, my lungs burning, my legs pumping as I tore through the trees, heading for the ridge I’d seen from the cabin window. If I could just get over it, put some distance between me and the compound…

I’d almost made it to the tree line when a hand fisted in my hair, yanking me back with brutal force. I cried out, my feet scrabbling for purchase on the damp earth as I was spun around, slammed up against the rough bark of a pine tree.

Dante’s face was a mask of fury, his dark eyes blazing, his jaw clenched tight. “You stupid, reckless little fool,” he hissed, his breath hot against my face. “Did you really think you could run from me?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Fear had closed my throat, choked me with its icy fingers. I struggled against his hold, my nails raking at the hand tangled in my hair, my body bucking against his.

He pressed me harder into the tree, his lower body pinning mine, immobilizing me. “I should kill you for this,” he growled, his free hand wrapping around my throat, just tight enough to make the blood roar in my ears. “Snap your pretty neck and leave you for the wolves.”

“Do it,” I spat, the words ragged, torn from my raw throat. “Go on, Dante. Prove what a big, bad monster you are. Kill me. Just like you killed Mikey.”

His hand tightened, his thumb pressing hard against my windpipe. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision, my lungs screaming for air. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d really do it. End me, right here, right now.

Then, with a sound that was almost a snarl, he released me, shoving me away from him so hard I stumbled, landing on my hands and knees on the forest floor. I gasped, dragging precious air into my starving lungs, my whole body trembling with reaction.

I heard him move behind me, the soft crunch of his boots on the pine needles. I braced myself for a kick, a blow, something. But instead, his hand fisted in the back of my shirt, hauling me upright, spinning me to face him.

We stood frozen like that for a long, charged moment, my chest heaving, his eyes dark and wild on mine. The air between us crackled with violence, with something else, something darker and more dangerous.

Then his mouth crashed down on mine.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a brand. A punishment. His lips were hard, demanding, his tongue forcing its way past my teeth to tangle with mine. I tasted blood, mine or his I didn’t know, and it sent a dark thrill through me, a surge of heat that pooled low in my belly.

I shouldn’t want this. I should fight him, claw his eyes out, run again. But God help me, I did want it. Wanted him. Wanted to take this violent, brutal thing between us and turn it into a weapon, use it against him the way he’d used my captivity against me.

I kissed him back, my teeth sinking into his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. He groaned, low in his throat, his hands sliding down to cup my ass, yanking me flush against him. I could feel him, hard and thick against my stomach, and a needy whimper escaped me before I could bite it back.

He walked me backward, his mouth never leaving mine, until my back hit the trunk of another tree. His hands were rough as they shoved at my jeans, yanking them down my thighs along with my panties. The cool night air kissed my bare skin, a shocking contrast to the heat building between us.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against my lips, his fingers finding my center, sliding through my wetness. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

I could’ve. Part of me wanted to. To spit in his face and tell him to go to hell. But the darker part, the part that had been drawn to the danger in him from the start, the part that wanted to use his own desire against him…that part had me wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.