34. Adalina
Chapter 34
Adalina
F rom the darkness of the closet, I hear gunshots and someone crying out in pain. I worry about all the people that live in this opulent mansion. The cook I met once, the housekeeper who comes in once a day to refresh my bathroom, and half a dozen security guards who switch out shifts at the gate every twelve hours. Not to mention Enzo and Dante, who have treated me with every kindness except when I forced them not to.
My heart pounds against my ribcage as I am consumed by panicked thoughts, but before I can even process them, the closet door explodes open in a shower of splintering wood.
“Hey there, princess,” greets a familiar yet unsettling voice, “I was hoping I’d be the one to find you.” His face is etched with lines of malice, his teeth bared in a chilling smile.
Fear grips me in its icy tendrils, coiling around my body and squeezing the air from my lungs. I instinctively retreat, forcing myself into the farthest part of the closet.
My father calls him The Wall, a fitting moniker for the imposing figure that towers before me. His name is John, but it’s hard to see him as anything other than a solid mass of muscle and sinew. He is almost inhuman, a creation from a mad scientist’s lab—perfectly designed for brute force and impenetrability.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I glare at him.
John’s maniacal laughter echoes off the walls as he scrutinizes me with his beady brown eyes. His gaze lingers on my body, tracing every curve in a way that makes my skin crawl. He savors the moment, licking his lips slowly. The sight of him makes bile rise in my throat. “And you’re already naked and waiting for me,” he sneers, lewdly emphasizing each word.
He towers over me, a looming figure much taller than the average Italian man. At nearly 6’6”, he casts an intimidating shadow as he strides towards me. I can see the muscles in his neck tense as he tilts his head back with a chilling crack, a clear warning of his power. He is a giant among men, and I am but a mere insect in his presence.
“If you touch me, I’ll scream,” I preemptively warn him.
“Good,” he growls with a twisted grin, “I like it when you scream. It’s my favorite sound.” John reaches down and grabs me by the arm, jerking me off the ground. My body slams into his, leaving me breathless and disoriented from the force. His muscles tense against mine as he holds me firmly in place. “Your father said we could do whatever we wanted to you as long as we bring you home before you die. He has a special setup for you in the basement. You’ll love it.” His hot, pungent breath hits my face, and a wave of nausea washes over me. “It’s a little something called the wooden horse. I’m sure you’re familiar with the design. It’s a medieval torture device that’s shaped like a triangle. Once me and the boys are done fucking your sweet little cunt, your father is going to string you up on the horse and wait for gravity to rip you in two.”
A shiver of terror races down my spine, paralyzing me with fear. I knew my father intended to kill me, but I thought it’d be a quick death in the end.
John wraps his fingers around my neck, seizing my throat as I struggle to break free. “If, for some reason, you don’t die after the first week, we’ll start adding weights to your ankles. Slowly but surely, the pointed edge of the wooden horse will saw through your wrecked pussy and internal organs until you bleed out.”
I fight for my freedom because it’s the only thing I know how to do. But John is unmoved, his expression cold and unyielding. He stands there, patiently waiting for me to tire myself out with my futile struggle. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs my arm and twists it until my wrist snaps like a twig. The sickening snap of bone pierces the air, and intense pain renders me speechless.
“In medieval times, they forced someone to stay on the horse until they couldn’t walk without pain, until every step came with excruciating agony. But trust me, we’re going to make that happen tonight—right here, right now. By the time you’re strung up, you’re going to wish you were dead.” John yanks me out of the closet by my broken wrist, causing a fresh round of agonizing screams to escape from my throat. My vision blurs as I try to focus on John’s face, twisted into a sadistic grin as he revels in my suffering.
Three other men from my father’s retinue stand in the bedroom. I recognize them immediately, and I recognize the hungry gaze in their eyes all too well.
John shoves me to the ground before nudging one of his friends. “Look what I found, boys. I reckon she’s ready for us.”
The men fumble with their pants, swiftly unfastening buttons and unbuckling belts with a synchronicity that makes my heart skip an anxious beat. Panic wells up in my chest as I attempt to escape, using every ounce of strength to scoot away from them, but I’m not fast enough.
A burly guard named Marco grabs me by the arm, hauling me to my feet. “Where ya going, gorgeous? We still gotta fuck up that pretty face of yours.” His fist smashes into my cheekbone with a loud crack, sending shards of pain shattering through my skull.
I am acutely aware of their malicious intent. They crave a symphony of shrieks and sobs; they want me to wail and submit. They yearn for me to plead for mercy and crumble under their power.
And honestly, I could do that; it would be easy. My body is wracked with pain, and I have no idea where Dante is. The chance that they beat and rape me is 100%. If what John said is true, this won’t be the end. They’ll drag me back home, and even more torture will await.
But I won’t give them what they want. I am a force to be reckoned with, molded and shaped by fear and abuse, and I will not bend to their desires.
“Bend her over and hold her down,” John orders. “I want to hear her beg for her life.”
I desperately try to fight against Marco, but he overpowers me and slams me onto the bed. My vision blurs from the force of his earlier punch, and I feel blood trickle down my cheek. I blindly spit in his direction, but I can’t tell if my attempts at fighting back are making any impact. Though I am completely helpless against this violent attack, I will not stop fighting. I will not beg for my life.
“Fuck you, bitch.” Marco’s face contorts in anger as he unleashes a string of profanities. His hand shoots up, wiping away a glob of spit that landed on his shirt. “I’m going to rip your ass in two. Just you fucking wait.”
“Do it,” I growl, the words coming out like a slur. “Ram that pathetic pencil dick of yours into my ass. I dare you. I bet I won’t even feel it.”
John’s hot breath is heavy on my neck, his cold fingers gripping my shoulders tightly as he lines up behind me. He presses his rigid, throbbing member against my ass, and I know he gets a twisted pleasure from hurting women. He relishes in the screams of his victims, in their terror and helplessness. I try to pull away, but his grip is unrelenting, and I know that what’s coming next will be worse than anything I can imagine. And still, I fight because it’s all I have left.
“Let her talk her shit,” John snaps at Marco. “She won’t be so high and mighty when she’s been fucked by half a dozen men. Isn’t that right, bitch?”
An intense burning sensation spreads over my scalp as his fingers coil tightly in my hair and yank. The unexpected movement forces an agonized scream to erupt from my lips, shattering the eerie silence of the room.
“Slap her.”
Marco obeys the command. His hand stings as it crosses my face, and my lip splits open from the force. “I call next,” he grins at me. “We’ll see who you’re calling pencil dick when I’m through with you.”
My savior bursts onto the scene a moment later, his face and clothes stained crimson. His hands are clenched tightly into fists. “If you fucking touch her, I’ll string you up by your balls.”
Dante distracts John, but there are too many men in the room. The second The Wall and the others approach my knight in bloody armor, Marco grabs me from the bed and puts a knife to my throat.
“Now be a good little girl,” he hisses in my ear, “and I won’t have to slit your throat in front of your boyfriend.”