37. Raiden
Chapter 37
Raiden
S averio bounds Kristopher to a chair in the middle of the grim, bare-bones room. The air makes my chest hurt, makes my upper lip curl with disgust, but this was always how it was supposed to end. I look at Kristopher’s bruised face, and it warms my heart. There’s dried blood at the corner of his mouth, and if there’s an ounce of regret in him, I can’t see it. He glares around the room like a king denied his throne.
Lucrezia stands in front of him, wrapped in Luciano’s oversized jacket, but her spine is ramrod straight with determination. Priest and Bash flank the door, arms folded across their chests, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. Saverio hangs back, his posture stiff as a board and his fingers twitching at his sides. Luciano lingers near the far wall, watching with a carefully constructed neutral expression.
I keep close to Lucrezia, ready just in case Kristopher tries something again or if she wants me to lead her out of here and let Saverio finish the job. Hard to imagine Kristopher would be able to do anything with his arms lashed to the chair, but the man’s proven to be resourceful in the worst ways. My knuckles are still raw from punching him in the face. I try not to think about how much I enjoyed that, or how much I’d enjoy beating him until he never gets up again.
We all wait with bated breath for Lucrezia to make her move. We’re her personal army of protectors, but the best we can do is make sure Kristopher doesn’t escape. Everything else is up to her.
“When we met, I thought I’d finally found someone who understood how poisonous the Castigliones were.” Lucrezia crosses her arms over her chest, her brows furrowing as she stares at her half-brother. “But you’re no different than our father. You think just like him. To him, I was something to be owned and used. When you kidnapped me and locked me in this room, you proved that you were his son through and through. The same cruelty, the same need to control everything and everyone around you.”
He scowls, blood-crusted lips twisting into an ugly sneer. “I was trying to protect you?—”
She cuts him off with a raised hand. “You kept me trapped like a bird in a cage and convinced yourself you were doing me a favor.” Lucrezia shakes her head, her dark eyes flashing with years of pent-up frustration. “But you’re the last person to ever do that to me. For years, men have tried to brand me as a scapegoat, or an outcast, or a puzzle piece that never fit. I’ve been shoved into corners, beaten down with words and expectations, and told by everyone that I was too much or not enough. That I was too wild, too passionate, too independent for my own good. That ends today. It ends right here in this very room.”
Her voice raises, steeled by anger and a lifetime of pain, finally finding its voice. I watch as Priest’s stony facade cracks just a hair. Saverio stands a little straighter, maybe out of pride or shame, I can’t tell. Bash lowers his gaze momentarily, a sign of respect for the power of her words, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with understanding.
Lucrezia continues, gaze pinned to Kristopher’s face. “I endured it all: scorn, exile, torture. But you —” She takes a shaky breath, shoulders lifting, then settling again. “You called yourself my savior while locking me in a cage. You inflicted new injuries on me and pretended they were for my own good. That’s not love, Kristopher. It’s control. It’s ownership. And I’ve had enough. So let me make this clear, not just to you, but to every man who’s ever tried to break a woman’s spirit: we are not yours. We never were, and we never will be.”
She glances at the men in the room, her eyes sweeping across each face in turn before returning her gaze to Kristopher with renewed intensity. “No one—no father, brother, husband, rival, or stalker—owns me. Not now, not ever. I belong to no one but myself. No matter how many times you try to drag me down, I will get back up. I will stand on my own, or with whoever I choose, because it’s my decision. I’m done letting anyone weigh in on who I should be. And I’m done letting people carve me into shapes that suit their needs rather than my own.”
My pulse quickens at her words, a fierce pride glowing in my chest like a furnace stoked by her courage. Her eyes flick over to Saverio, sharp and unflinching. He bows his head slightly, guilt shadowing his features as he studies the floor. Then she looks at Priest, who inclines his head in acknowledgment, the slightest softening of his calm betraying the impact of her declaration. Bash murmurs something that sounds like “Hell yeah,” under his breath. Luciano wears a grim expression on his face, but I can see a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“This isn’t just about me or you. It’s about every woman who’s been silenced, beaten, or molded into a shape she never asked for. For every woman who’s been told to stay quiet, stay gentle, stay grateful —screw that. I am done staying quiet. I am done letting others dictate who I should be, done watching from the shadows while men decide my fate.”
Lucrezia lifts her chin, and somehow, she’s three feet taller. “I am free—I might be battered, I might be scarred, but I’m free. No one will ever take me again unless I let them.”
A hush blankets the room when she finishes. I see in her eyes a resolve that makes my chest tighten, and I feel a surge of admiration so intense it’s nearly painful.
Kristopher barks a laugh, though the motion causes him to wince and spit more blood onto the floor. “Those are pretty words, Lucrezia, but you’re fooling yourself.” He glances toward me, hatred twisting his expression. “You talk about freedom, but you let this dog have you—bent over a kitchen counter, from what I remember.”
Anger flares inside me, but Lucrezia’s expression remains controlled. Her lips press into a thin line, tension coiling in her jaw. She stands there, letting the comment hang. Then, with a calmness that commands the room, she says, “Everyone out. Except Raiden.”
Saverio’s eyes flick my way. He looks like he might argue, but Lucrezia doesn’t give him a chance. “That includes you,” she says, narrowing her gaze at her brother. He exhales, giving a tight nod. Priest nods, too, though I catch a flash of concern on his face. Bash shrugs, heading for the door without complaint. Luciano lingers for a moment, then leaves, closing the door behind him. Now it’s just me, Lucrezia, and Kristopher.
Lucrezia draws a long breath, shoulders lifting and falling. I can see the exhaustion in her posture, but she won’t be deterred. She gestures for me to stand near Kristopher, and I move without a word, stationing myself behind him. If he tries anything, I’ll break his skull. The bastard deserves more than a missing tooth for what he’s done.
Lucrezia steps close to the chair, sliding Luciano’s jacket down her arms. My throat tightens with a rush of possessive protectiveness, but I hold my position. She faces Kristopher, who stares up at her defiantly. One more shrug, and the jacket is on the floor, pooling at her feet. My heart clenches—she’s naked. Yet the way she holds herself is regal, with no trace of shame. Kristopher’s eyes widen a fraction, but he says nothing.
I can’t stop staring, a hot flush creeping up my neck. The raw lust that floods me is laced with anger and affection. She’s all soft curves and harsh bruises, and I want to bury Kristopher in the ground for every mark he’s left on her body.
“Look at me, Kristopher,” she orders. And he does, his resentful gaze flicking over her body.
“You think fucking Raiden means he controls me? He doesn’t. But here’s the difference between you and him—if I let him have me right here, right now, it’d be my choice because he respects me. Do you understand that? He’s never forced me into anything. He takes only what I give.”
She moves closer to the chair, a sly smile spreading across her lips. “In fact, I’m going to give him all of me right now while you watch. Because the last thing I want you to see before you die is the woman you love, proving that you don’t matter to her at all.”
A slow, dangerous grin spreads across my face, my body reacting before my mind can process what she’s saying. Her words resonate like a shockwave in my chest, stirring a potent mix of outrage, desire, and savage satisfaction. Kristopher thrashes weakly, veins popping in his neck, a snarl forming on his split lips.
“You bitch,” he rasps, fury shining in his eyes like hot coals in the dim light. He tries to lunge, but he’s lashed tight to the chair, muscles straining uselessly against the bonds. It only makes him look pathetic. Blood dribbles down his chin in thin crimson rivulets, and I tighten my stance behind him, ensuring he can’t budge an inch.
Lucrezia’s gaze slips from Kristopher to me, and for a moment, the tension between us crackles like electricity. My gut twists, longing colliding with fierce protectiveness. Even in this dusty, mildewy room, I feel the scorching desire burning through my veins. She’s battered but unbroken, her defiance making her even more beautiful, and I’ve never wanted her more than in this moment.
Kristopher wrestles with the ropes. But there’s no escape—he’s done, and the dawning realization shows in his wild eyes. “This is sick.”
Lucrezia folds her arms across her chest, not out of modesty but in a stance of dominance. “You don’t get to call anything sick,” she says icily. “You started this. You kidnapped me . You forced me to endure your fantasies. If this is sick, it’s what you deserve.”
He sputters, face going dark red as the blood rushes to his head. His jaw works soundlessly, choking on his own impotent rage. But there’s nothing he can do except glare up at her naked form, hatred etched into every line of his face.
I can’t keep quiet anymore. “You have no clue what a real man does for the woman he loves. He protects her, not imprisons her.”
Kristopher’s lip curls, a sneer of pure contempt twisting his features. “Fuck you, Drake,” he spits.
A rush of potential violence simmers inside me, but there’s a different kind of heat coursing, too, sparked by Lucrezia’s brazen display of power. I don’t look away from her. I let her see the appreciation and the hunger in my eyes. Something in her gaze flickers—answering that hunger with a promise.
“Take me, Raiden.” She leans over the chair, her breasts swaying before Kristopher’s face. He swears, but no one pays him any mind. “Fuck me in front of this pathetic excuse for a man and then blow his brains out.”