Chapter 29
I woke up to heavy silence.
The kind of silence that made my skin crawl. That made me feel like the walls were closing in, pressing against my ribs, stealing the air from my lungs.
I blinked against the dim light, my vision blurring before sharpening again. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. My head throbbed, my mouth felt dry and my body stiff from lying in the same position for too long.
How long had I been here?
I turned my head slightly, wincing as the movement sent a dull ache spiraling through me. The room was the same. Sparse and empty, except for the bed I was in and the nightstand beside it. The tray Nico had left earlier was gone. So was he.
The only proof that time had passed at all was the aching hollowness in my stomach and the way my limbs felt heavier, weighed down by exhaustion.
There were no windows. No clocks. No way to tell if it was night or day. Morning or evening.
I swallowed, my throat raw.
I needed to get out.
The thought was a pulse, an unrelenting beat in my mind, growing louder, stronger andmore desperate. I forced myself upright, ignoring the sluggish protest of my body. My fingers trembled as I pushed the blankets off me, my feet meeting the cold floor.
The door was closed. Locked. Just like before.
I had checked it already. Again and again. But that didn't stop me from moving toward it, my hands curling around the handle.
Nothing.
A sharp exhale left my lips. My chest tightened.
I needed to stay calm. I needed to think.
My gaze darted around the room, searching for anything. A weakness. A mistake. But it was just four walls and a locked door.
I wrapped my arms around myself, pressing my back against the wood, trying to slow the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat.
Luca didn't know where I was.
Did he even know I was missing? Did he care?
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the thought away but it clung to me.
The sound of distant footsteps made my breath hitch. My pulse stuttered.
I barely had a second to brace myself before the door creaked open.
And Nico stepped inside.
Nico's eyes flickered to the doorknob still gripped in my hand. His lips curved, slow and knowing.
"Are you trying to leave, cara?" He said.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the handle. I didn't answer..
The door slammed shut behind him.
I barely had time to react before he moved. My back hit the wall, my breath leaving me in a sharp gasp. His hands were on either side of me, caging me in, his body pressing too close.
"Where would you go?" He asked. "Back to him?"
I turned my face away but it didn't matter. He didn't give me the chance to escape.
His fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. Then his lips crashed onto mine.
I froze, horror twisting in my stomach. His mouth was demanding, his teeth scraping my lower lip biting down hard. A sharp sting. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.
I shoved at his chest, a muffled sound of disgust caught in my throat but he didn't budge. His grip tightened.
His tongue swiped against the wound he had just created, tasting the blood he had drawn.
Bile rose in my throat.
"Get off me!" I gasped, pushing harder.
His breathing was uneven as he stepped back, his tongue flicking over his lips like he could still taste me. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His eyes so dark locked onto mine.
Then, his expression shifted like before.
He swore under his breath, gripping my jaw again, tilting my face up. His fingers smeared the blood at the corner of my lips, his brows drawing together.
"Look what you made me do" he muttered, almost to himself.
I stiffened.
Made him do?
He turned and yanked the door open. "Get the doctor," he ordered.
I blinked, dazed.
I barely had time to process what was happening before he turned back to me, his gaze sharp, possessive.
"You need stitches" he said, brushing his thumb over my swollen lip.
I flinched.
"Next time," he murmured, his voice softer, more dangerous "Don't make me lose my patience."
Minutes later, an older, grey haired man entered the room. He barely spared me a glance before setting his bag on the nightstand and pulling out supplies.
I didn't move as he cleaned the cut and prepped the needle and thread.
I swallowed hard. My lip throbbed, the pain sharp and insistent as he stitched the wound shut.
Nico leaned back against the bedpost, his dark eyes never leaving me as the doctor packed up his supplies.
The moment the doctor left, closing the door behind him with a soft click, Nico moved.
I flinched. It was small, barely noticeable but he saw it. Of course he did.
His smirk deepened. "It's hard to stay away from you," he murmured, his voice dipping into something almost... gentle. A mockery of tenderness. "But don't worry cara, I won't hurt you."
His fingers traced the edge of the stitches, his tone darkening. "Not now."
I pressed myself against the headboard, my hands fisting in the sheets but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.
He tilted his head, his expression almost thoughtful. "I'm waiting for your husband."
I froze.
His smirk widened. "I want to fuck you in front of him," he said, his voice smooth, deliberate. "I want to see his reaction as I take you. Right in front of him."
A sick wave of nausea twisted in my stomach. My breath hitched, horror closing around my throat like a vice.
Nico sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.
"I thought about recording and sending it to him," he mused, almost to himself. "But that way, I wouldn't get see his face."
I clenched my jaw, swallowing the bile rising in my throat.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "He took you away from me," he murmured. "Gave me pain." His fingers ghosted over my jaw, his touch light, deceptively soft. "I want to return the same to him."
My stomach twisted violently.
His hand curled under my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burned into mine, filled with something cruel, something possessive.
"Don't worry." he said. "My men are working. We will have him here soon."
I bit down on my lip, the pain grounded me. It was better than focusing on Nico and his words.
But Nico's gaze snapped to my lips, his expression angered instantly.
His fingers tighten around my chin, forcing my mouth open just enough for his thumb to brush against the fresh wound.
"Why do you always do this?" His voice was low, lethal. "Always doing something to make me angry."
I swallowed hard. His grip tightened more making me gasp in pain.
"You think hurting yourself will change anything?" he asked, his thumb pressing against the stitches, smearing a thin trace of blood. "That it will make me go easy on you?"
His smirk was sharp, devoid of amusement. "It only makes me want to break you more."
I tugged away from him but he didn't let me pull away.
"You belong to me now." His voice was quieter, but somehow, it was worse. "Not him. Not anymore." His thumb dragged over my lip one last time before he released me.
"Don't do it again," he warned. "Or next time, I won't be so gentle."
I touched my lips, the blood coating my fingers.
"You exhaust me, Alessa" His voice was clipped, edged with something almost like disappointment. "Always fighting, always pushing."
His eyes flickered over my face one last time before he turned and walked away.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stayed frozen for a moment, waiting half-expecting him to come back, to continue his torment, to take more of me.
But he didn't.
Silence settled over the room once more.
A broken sob tore through my chest as I crumpled onto the bed, pressing my hands against my mouth to muffle the sounds. Tears burned down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking as I curled into myself.
And still, the same thought haunted me.
Would Luca come for me? Or was I truly alone?