Chapter 46
RENéE
I sat on the cold, grimy floor, my hands tied uncomfortably behind my back. At least they’d removed the filthy strip of cloth from my mouth—though judging by the stench that still lingered, it might have been better if they hadn’t. The air around me was damp and heavy, carrying the unmistakable tang of mildew and rust.
The two guards stationed by the door watched me like hawks, while the two goons who’d dragged me here were off to the side, chatting like they were at a dive bar instead of keeping watch over a kidnapped woman. Every so often, one of them would glance at me and try to muster up a menacing glare.
It was almost funny. Almost.
They were amateurs—sloppy, uncoordinated, and clearly out of their depth. They didn’t scare me. Well… okay, maybe a little. I wasn’t stupid, after all. But fear wasn’t going to get me out of this mess. If anything, it would just give them exactly what they wanted, and I wasn’t about to hand them that satisfaction on a silver platter.
No, what I needed to do was think. Calculate. Stay two steps ahead. And I wasn’t doing this alone. I knew my brothers were already looking for me. They had to be. They’d move heaven and earth before they let anyone lay a hand on me. And Javier? Oh, I could already imagine him shouting, threatening, and tearing apart the city in his fury. He must be losing his mind right about now.
The thought made me snort. Serves him right.
One of the goons turned to glare at me, his face scrunching up like a tomato about to burst.
“What the hell’s so funny?” he demanded, his voice somewhere between a growl and a whine.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You,” I said, my voice dripping with disdain.
The second goon, who seemed marginally less stupid, squinted at me suspiciously. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone tied up on the floor.”
“Oh, do I?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to look as unimpressed as possible given my current position. “And what exactly are you going to do about it? Keep growling like an angry Chihuahua? Please, go ahead—it’s the most entertainment I’ve had all night.”
The first guy—Tomato Face—stomped toward me, his hands curling into fists. “You think you’re funny, huh? You think this is some kind of joke?”
“A little, yeah,” I replied with a shrug, as much as my bindings would allow. “I mean, look at you. You’re trying so hard to be scary, and it’s just… sad.”
His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and I could see his jaw twitch. “You think I won’t kill you? Your life is in my hands.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed—a sharp, unrestrained sound that echoed through the room.
“You hold nothing in your hands,” I said, my voice cold. “Touch me, and it’s your corpse they’ll be scraping off the floor, not mine. You have no idea whose leash you’re on, do you?”
Tomato Face’s eyes flashed with fury, and in an instant, his hand shot out, wrapping around my throat. He squeezed just enough to make breathing uncomfortable, but I didn’t flinch. I stared him down, a slow grin spreading across my face.
“Go ahead,” I rasped. “Do it. Or better yet, pull the trigger while you’re at it. I’d love to see how long you last after that.”
For a moment, I thought I’d pushed him too far. His grip tightened, and his eyes burned with rage. But then, as if realizing he was dangerously close to crossing a line, he shoved me back against the wall. I coughed, catching my breath, but the smirk never left my face.
“Stupid little—” he snarled, yanking out a gun from his waistband and pointing it directly at me. His hand trembled slightly as he screamed, “One more word, and I’ll—”
“Enough.”
The voice that sliced through the air was sharp, commanding, and dripping with authority.
Tomato Face froze, the color draining from his face as he turned slowly toward the door.
My breath caught in my throat as recognition dawned. My heart thudded against my ribcage, and I turned my gaze toward the source of the sound.
His face came into the light, and I forgot how to breathe.
Henri.
The name alone was enough to send a shockwave through my body like ice pouring into my veins and paralyzing every nerve. My chest tightened, my vision blurred at the edges, and for a split second, I was back there—trapped, helpless, choking on fear. My body shook as panic clawed its way up my throat, threatening to pull me under.
“Renée,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery, and that cruel, vile smirk stretched across his face. “You look… exactly how I remember. Broken.”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. All I could do was watch as he stepped closer, his shadow swallowing me whole. He crouched in front of me, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee as he tilted my chin up with a forceful grip. His fingers dug into my skin, and it was as if my body remembered—remembered the pain, the humiliation, every moment I’d spent at his mercy.
“You missed me, didn’t you?” His breath was warm against my face, carrying the faint stench of cigars and malice. “Oh, don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I know you’ve been thinking about me, dreaming about me. Just like I’ve been dreaming about you. How you screamed. How you begged. How you—”
“Stop,” I croaked, my voice trembling, barely audible.
But he didn’t stop. Of course, he didn’t.
“Do you remember the first time, Renée?” he asked, his tone soft and sickeningly sweet, like he was reliving a fond memory. “The way you cried? How you looked at me like a scared little mouse caught in a trap?”
I flinched, my body betraying me, and his smile widened.
“Oh, I’ve thought about this moment for a long time. Getting my hands on you again. Who’s going to save you now, hmm? Your brothers? Your loyal little dog? What was his name again? Javier, right? Face it, Renée. You’re mine. Just like you always were.”
His words slithered into my mind, coiling tight and suffocating me. My breaths came in shallow, frantic gasps. My vision blurred as tears welled up, and for a moment, I felt myself sinking, spiraling into the black hole he’d dug for me.
But then, somewhere deep inside the suffocating fog of fear, a flicker of something stirred. A memory, vivid and sharp, slicing through the haze.
Lorenzo.
I hadn’t just killed him. I’d annihilated him. Crushed him in ways that went far beyond the physical. I’d shattered the foundation of everything he thought he was, reducing him to nothing but ashes and dust.
And in that moment, staring into Henri’s gloating face, it hit me—I could do it again.
The fear still gripped me, its claws sharp and unforgiving, but alongside it, something darker, something far more dangerous, began to bloom.
Power.
Not the kind Henri thought he had, the petty dominance of a man who used pain and intimidation like a crutch to mask his insecurities. No, this was something deeper, something primal. I wasn’t just a victim of monsters. I’d become one myself.
And that realization didn’t scare me—it fueled me.
Henri’s words slithered around me like chains, heavy and constricting, but I saw them for what they were now. His power was a lie, a fragile illusion built on smoke and fear. And me? I was the one holding the match.
The thought solidified, cold and sharp, settling into my core. Yes, I was cruel. Yes, I was cunning. I’d done terrible things and made brutal choices, and there was no point in pretending otherwise. But if Henri thought he could use those same tools against me, he was gravely mistaken.
Because I’m better at this game than he’ll ever be.
The fear didn’t vanish; it pulsed beneath my skin, sharp and raw, but it no longer controlled me. It became something else, something I could wield. Henri might think he held all the cards, but I knew the truth now—I wasn’t the one trapped in his game. No.
He was about to be trapped in mine.
A slow smile tugged at my lips, small at first, then growing wider. Henri froze mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
“What the hell are you smiling at?” he snapped, his grip tightening on my chin.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I laughed.
Soft at first. A quiet, almost airy sound that quickly grew into something louder, something unhinged. It echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls, and for a brief, glorious moment, I saw it—the flicker of doubt in Henri’s eyes.
“What’s so funny, huh?” he barked, his voice rising as his composure cracked. “Stop laughing!”
But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The laughter poured out of me, wild and uncontrollable, and I watched as his smug facade crumbled, piece by piece.
“You think this is funny?” he snarled, shaking me by the chin.
“No,” I said finally, my voice a low, venomous whisper. “I think you’re funny. Henri, the big bad wolf. The monster under the bed. And yet…” I leaned in slightly, my grin widening. “You’re just a man. A pathetic, scared little man who thinks he’s holding all the cards.”
For a heartbeat, he stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. Then, for the first time since he’d walked into the room, I saw it.
Fear.
I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch between us. It wasn’t just silence—it was a weapon. The longer Henri stood there, towering over me with that smug grin, the more I could feel the cracks forming beneath his bravado. He had no idea. Not yet. But he would.
“You know,” I said softly, my voice almost conversational, “I’ve been thinking a lot about power lately.”
Henri’s smirk faltered, just a fraction, but I caught it. Oh, I caught it. I leaned forward slightly, as much as the restraints would allow, tilting my chin up like I was letting him win, letting him loom over me.
“You think you have it, don’t you?” I murmured, my voice dropping into a near whisper. “You think that just because you managed to pull me out of my life once—because you drugged me and dragged me into your little nightmare—you’ve won.”
Henri’s expression darkened, the grin thinning into a sneer. “You talk a lot for someone with no way out,” he shot back, but there was a tightness in his tone now, a thread of uncertainty.
I smiled. Not a warm smile, not even a cruel one. It was the kind of smile that said I knew something he didn’t. And I did.
“Do you even know who I am?” I asked, my voice laced with amusement. “I mean, really know?”
For a moment, my voice faltered as memories clawed their way to the surface.
Eight years ago, my life had been mine. I’d gone to university halfway across the world, far from the shadow of my father’s empire, far from the suffocating legacy of the Aarle Dynastie. I had changed my name, changed my appearance. Nobody knew who I was there. I wasn’t “Renée d’Aarle,” the daughter of the Dynastie. I was just Renée.
I was finally making friends, real ones—not people trying to get close to me for power, not spies reporting back to my father. I’d gone out for late-night study sessions, sat on the grass between classes, and had laughs that felt genuine. I’d tasted normalcy.
And then Henri had barged in.
He’d followed me. I didn’t even know it at the time, but he’d been watching, waiting. The smile he gave me at the campus café felt like nothing more than an irritating flirtation. I ignored him. The flowers he sent to my dorm? Creepy, but harmless—or so I thought.
I hadn’t realized what he was planning until it was too late.
The night he drugged me, I’d been laughing with my friends. Laughing. The world had spun too quickly, and when I woke up, everything was dark. The air smelled damp and stale, the sharp pain in my arms reminding me I was tied down.
Henri took it all from me. The freedom. The safety. The laughter. He’d made me his captive and turned my life into a living hell.
And now, here he was again, standing before me, thinking he still held power over me.
His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I let out a soft, almost pitying laugh. “Of course, you don’t know. You’re from Germany, right? Then you’ve heard of the De Obsidiaan Troon.”
The shift in his posture was immediate, the name landing like a thunderclap. He tried to hide it, but the flicker of recognition in his eyes gave him away.
“Ah,” I said, leaning back now, feigning relaxation. “So, you do know. Good. That’ll save me some time.”
Henri scoffed, trying to recover, but his voice betrayed him. “That’s just... that’s just a name. A myth people throw around to scare each other.”
“Is it?” I asked, my tone light, playful even. “Tell me, Henri, do myths have kings? Because the man who sits on that throne right now—Théodore d’Aarle—is very, very real. And trust me, he’s not the forgiving type.”
I leaned in again, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you know what he’ll do to you if he finds out you’ve gotten your hands on me again? Do you even know what you escaped the last time? You were lucky, Henri. So lucky. But luck? It has a funny way of running out.”
Henri’s jaw clenched, his confidence visibly slipping. “You’re bluffing,” he muttered, but his voice wavered.
I laughed then, a low, almost unhinged sound that echoed in the room. “Bluffing? You have no idea, do you? You’re standing on a battlefield, thinking it’s a playground. You think you’ve caught me, but the truth is, you’ve walked straight into the lion’s den.”
I leaned forward as far as I could, locking eyes with him. “Een leven voor een leven, bloed voor bloed—de Dynastie eist altijd zijn recht.”
The words hit him like a physical blow. He stumbled back, his face pale, his eyes wide with a fear he couldn’t mask anymore.
“You should’ve stayed where you were, Henri,” I said softly, my voice almost kind. “Because now, they’re going to find you. And when they do...” I trailed off, letting the silence speak for itself.
Henri’s lips parted, but no words came out. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and for the first time since he’d stepped into the room, he looked truly terrified.
Good.
“You will beg for death, Henri,” I whispered, leaning in so close I could feel the heat radiating off his trembling body. My voice dripped with venom, low and lethal. “And I will deny you that mercy.”
The words seemed to claw at him, his breath hitching, his already pale face turning ashen. He flinched, retreating as far back as the room allowed, his back pressed against the wall.
And then the door opened.
Vincent Marchetti stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm. He was everything I’d heard and more—tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp suit tailored to perfection. But what struck me wasn’t his polished appearance or the aura of authority he exuded. It was his smile.
Wide, cheerful, and utterly wrong.
“Ah, what a delightful scene we have here,” Vincent said, his voice smooth and unnervingly upbeat like he was walking into a cocktail party. His gaze swept over the scene, landing on Henri crumpled on the floor. His lips curled in mock pity.
“Oh, Henri,” he sighed, shaking his head as though scolding a child. “What have you done to yourself? Look at you—pathetic. Can’t even get your cock up, can you? How did you even kidnap her last time?”
Henri whimpered, his head jerking up to look at Vincent, his lips trembling too much to form words.
Vincent chuckled, light and airy, as if the sight of Henri’s fear amused him. He barely spared him another glance before turning his attention to me. His eyes raked over me, lingering a moment too long, and his grin widened, his teeth flashing like a predator’s.
“So, this is the Renee Margot,” Vincent mused, clasping his hands together as if in delight. “I must say, you’re even more exquisite up close. Now I understand why Javier is so obsessed. Throwing his life away for you—how romantic.”
I didn’t respond, didn’t flinch, didn’t move. My stomach churned with disgust, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it. Instead, I stared at him, my expression blank but my eyes sharp, watching him like a predator waiting for its moment.
The silence stretched, and I saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. He expected fear. He wanted me to beg, to cower.
I smirked.
That did it.
Vincent’s smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his grin turning sharper. He took a slow step toward me, his voice lowering but retaining its unnerving cheerfulness. “You’ve got quite the fire in you, don’t you? I can see why Henri failed. You’re not the type to break easily.”
He leaned closer, his tone dropping into something colder, more intimate. “But don’t worry. I like a challenge. And once I’ve dealt with Javier—and I will—I think I’ll keep you for myself. Make you my personal little pet. And make sure I make you pay for everything Javier has done to my little boy.”
My skin crawled, but I kept my composure.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he continued, waving a hand as if my silence didn’t bother him. “I know you’re just waiting for your knight in shining armor to come crashing through that door. And he will. Javier always does, doesn’t he? But this time...” Vincent’s grin turned cruel. “This time, I’ll kill him. Right in front of you.”
I still didn’t respond. I just kept staring, unblinking, my smirk growing.
His fury turned, sharp and immediate, to Henri. Vincent spun on his heel, towering over the man who now looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Employing you was a mistake,” Vincent said coldly, his voice laced with venom despite the smile still plastered on his face. “The only thing you had to do was break her. That was it. And you couldn’t even manage that. I’m starting to think everything you told me about your accomplishments with her are lies.”
Henri shook his head, his entire body trembling as he clutched at Vincent’s trousers like a desperate man clinging to the edge of a cliff. “Please,” he croaked, his voice cracking with fear. “Please, Vincent, I—I did everything I could! But she’s changed. She’s not—she’s not normal! She’s a monster!”
Vincent chuckled again, this time with genuine amusement. “The only monster here is you, Henri,” he said, kicking Henri’s hands away with a sneer. “And even then, you’re a failure. Take him away,” he barked, turning to the men standing by the door.
The guards moved forward, grabbing Henri by the arms. He screamed, thrashing wildly. “No! No, no, no! Don’t let them take me! He’s going to kill me! Vincent, please, it’s your fault! It’s all your fault! You dragged me into this mess! Please, I’m begging you!”
His pleas echoed in the room, a symphony of fear and desperation. I leaned back, watching the scene unfold with a strange sense of amusement.
Henri’s screams grew louder as the guards dragged him toward the door. His face twisted in terror, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. “You don’t understand! I’m going to die! He’s going to kill me! Vincent, please!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll remove you from this world before that.” Vincent waved a dismissive hand, his expression one of boredom. “Get him out of my sight. These Germans and their theatrics,” he muttered, shaking his head in disdain.
Henri’s screams faded as the door slammed shut behind him.
Vincent turned back to me, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, his ever-present smile back in place. “Now, where were we?” he said, his voice almost casual as he took a step closer.
But before he could say another word, a deafening explosion shook the room.
The walls rattled, the floor trembled, and somewhere in the distance, the unmistakable sound of chaos erupted. Vincent froze, his head snapping toward the source of the blast.
And I just smiled.