CHAPTER 47
C HAPTER 47
ALLYN
“All the stories I’ve heard about Maddox King don’t do him justice.”
Daphne’s voice chimed as she strolled into the living room.
“He’s so fucking hot, even though he’s scary as hell.”
I didn’t look up. My focus remained glued to my laptop, scrolling through files as if her words hadn’t struck a nerve.
The last thing I wanted was for her to catch the flicker of irritation on my face—irritation born not just from her mention of Maddox, but her blatant infatuation with him.
Not that I could blame her. Maddox King was impossible to ignore. As she so aptly put it, “so fucking hot.” But hearing it from her, of all people, made my stomach twist.
Daphne was the closest thing I had to a friend here.
After losing contact with Tamara and mourning Lara’s death, she was the only person who brought some semblance of normalcy into my life. My father had hired her to be my right hand, which meant she was always around. Our friendship, if you could call it that, was mostly professional, but there was a certain ease in her company I hadn’t found with anyone else.
And yet, the way she was drooling over Maddox gnawed at me in a way I couldn’t explain.
Daphne was stunning, no question about it. At twenty-one, with fiery red hair and a sharp wit, she was the perfect mix of charm and danger.
Petite yet commanding, she was a weapon in her own right—a killer with a baby face and an assassin’s mind.
“Do you think your dad would be mad if I messed around with him a little bit?” she asked— her casual tone like a dagger to my chest.
My eyes snapped to hers, my expression betraying my frustration for a fraction of a second before I forced it away.
She raised her hands in mock surrender, grinning.
“Hey, I’m just asking.”
“I don’t think sleeping with the enemy is the best idea, Daphne,” I said sharply. The words came out colder than I intended, biting even as they left my mouth.
Trust me, I know from personal experience.
Daphne sighed, visibly disappointed by my answer. I could see it in the way her shoulders slumped slightly, her lips pressing together in a thin line. The idea of Daphne touching Maddox made me sick to my stomach, twisting the anger I felt toward the one person I could tolerate in this place.
The silence stretched uncomfortably until she finally broke it.
“Do you think he’ll agree to cooperate?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “It’s been days.”
Days.
Days since I last saw him in the dungeon, his empty gaze locking onto me with the kind of stillness that made my blood run cold. That was the first time Maddox King made me feel real fear.
I’d thought about going back more times than I could count. My feet would carry me toward the door, only for my own resolve to drag me back. He didn’t want to see me; he made that much clear.
And I deserved it.
I deserved every ounce of hatred he had for me. He was there because of me, after all. That was the plan from the beginning—the plan Mikael and I carefully constructed, which I carried out to perfection.
“I don’t know,” I exhaled softly. “I hope so.”
Daphne leaned back in her chair, her movements uncharacteristically subdued.
“He looks better now than the first day I went down to bring him food,” she murmured, her words cutting through the quiet. "It seems like your father’s done torturing him.”
Yes. Because I ordered so.
The memory flashed through my mind—the horrifying state Maddox had been left in, battered and broken, his blood pooling beneath him. I’d made it very clear to Mikael that if he laid another hand on Maddox, he’d have to deal with me. That wasn’t part of the plan.
The plan was to use Maddox as bait to draw Martin King out of hiding. That was why I’d agreed to this madness in the first place.
But I never agreed to him being tortured.
Before I could say anything else, Mikael burst into the room, his sudden presence shattering the moment.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, frowning as I took in his unusually intense expression. He paused, his face as unreadable as ever, before giving a short, sharp nod.
“Everything is fine.”
But the tightness in his jaw said otherwise.
My attention snapped away from Mikael the moment two of his men entered the room, dragging someone between them.
The man barely managed to swipe his feet against the floor, his head hanging low, unconscious or near it.
It took me a second to recognize the dark, messy hair—Maddox.
They threw him onto the floor in front of us like he was nothing but trash. His groan, low and filled with agony, split the silence in the room, cutting me right to the core. My heart shattered seeing him like this.
His face was a mess, wounds still not healed, scars forming from the pathetic care he’d been given.
But it was his leg that caught my attention. His thigh was covered in dried blood, a makeshift bandage wrapped around it that I immediately recognized as a poor attempt to stop the bleeding from a bullet wound.
A freaking bullet.
Mikael must’ve noticed the shock and anger etched across my face as I stared at Maddox’s leg. His hand roughly gripped my shoulder— as if trying to pull me away from the sight.
But I couldn’t.
Maddox was gasping for air, each breath a struggle, but he didn’t lift his head. His swollen eyes didn’t even flicker toward us, as if giving us any attention was the last thing he thought I deserved.
And he was right.
Mikael circled around me, his voice low and calm as he moved closer to Maddox’s battered form lying on the floor.
“You’re stubborn. Under other circumstances, I’d admire that.”
“Fuck you, Mikael,” Maddox spat with venom, his voice hoarse, still refusing to look up.
His head remained lowered, his dirty black hair hanging over his face like a curtain, hiding him from us. Mikael wasn’t fazed.
“One way or another, you’ll help us find Martin,” he said, his words carrying the weight of a promise. “It’s up to you whether you meet my good side or my bad one.”
Maddox let out a laugh—dark, cold, and wicked. It was the kind of laugh that froze you in place. Maddox shook his head. All I could see was the smirk tugging at his lips, and that alone sent a shiver through my entire body.
“I’ll have so much fun killing you, Mikael.”
It wasn’t just a threat—it sounded like a promise.
My father’s expression remained carefully neutral, but I knew him too well. Maddox’s words were digging under his skin, unsettling him in ways he wouldn’t show.
“You won’t live long enough to do that,” Mikael spat back, waving a dismissive hand toward his men. “Lock him in the room on the second floor. Guard it round the clock.”
The guards moved quickly, grabbing him by the arms and dragging him toward the exit. But just before they left, his black, unforgiving eyes locked onto mine—not my father’s, not Daphne’s—mine.
They were cold and merciless, filled with a darkness that made my stomach twist. The scars on his face only amplified the deadly promise in his stare.
And even though every part of me wanted to hold that gaze, I was the one who looked away first. Like a coward.
The door slammed shut, leaving the room in a tense silence.
“You shot him?” I snapped, my voice sharp and accusing as I turned to Mikael. My anger was immediate, my skin burning with it. Mikael shrugged, his indifference only stoking the fire inside me.
“You promised me you wouldn’t hurt him again!”
“I shot him before making any promises to you.’’
“Why?”
“Because he needs to learn to keep his stupid mouth shut.”
I let out a harsh, humorless laugh, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I hissed, taking a step closer to him. Pointing a finger at him, I spat, “Don’t you dare touch him again, or you’ll have to deal with me. That’s a fucking promise, Mikael.”
His eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor finally cracking.
“You’re protecting a man who wouldn’t think twice before killing you if he had the chance.” he hissed, his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. I faltered, stepping back as his harsh words stabbed straight into my chest.
“Stop showing weakness,” he continued, his tone laced with disdain. “And start acting like a real Romano.”
His words echoed in my head, leaving a trail of doubt and pain in their wake. Because deep down, I knew he was right.
Maddox had said it himself—if given the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to end me. But even knowing that, my heart refused to accept it. I can’t. I don’t want to.
I didn’t want to accept that the man who once worshiped my body, making me forget the world with each touch, would kill me without a second thought.
I stared into my father’s eyes, jaw clenched, and for the first time, I didn’t have the words to fight back. He knew it—he could see the battle in my eyes, and I could tell he was savoring the victory of his manipulation.
“I meant what I said, Mikael,” I mumbled, my voice low and thick with defiance, avoiding his probing question. “Stay away from him.’’
That was the last thing I said before turning my back on him. The weight of my words still hung in the air as I left the room.
Daphne’s heels clicked behind me, a rhythmic echo of my own chaos, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My thoughts were unraveling faster than I could process, and I was teetering on the edge of something I wasn’t ready to confront.
“That was fucking intense,” Daphne whispered. “Where are we going?” She asked, trailing after me like a curious shadow.
I glanced back at her, knowing full well that what I was about to do might be the biggest mistake of my life, but for once, I didn’t care.
I was going to listen to the pounding in my chest instead of my head. I didn’t answer her. But she followed anyway.
The guards at the door didn’t question me this time, their postures stiffening only slightly before they stepped aside. I pushed the door open, the creaking sound of the hinges a sharp contrast to the silence in the room.
When I saw Maddox, a strange sense of relief washed over me. This time, he wasn’t chained to a rusty chair. He had a bed, though his hands were still cuffed and bound.
Daphne, ever bold, stepped in behind me, but the moment she saw him, the cocky, fearless woman she always was seemed to falter. I could see the horror flashing in her eyes as she took in the sight of Maddox, his condition worse than I had imagined.
He didn’t react immediately. Slowly, his head lifted, his black eyes locking onto mine. And in that moment, my breath hitched in my chest.
His gaze was cold. Deadly.
But there was something more—something deeper. I couldn’t read it. I didn’t know if he was angry, broken, or just done with everything.
But whatever it was, it was enough to steal my breath. For a second, neither of us moved.
As if our eyes spoke a thousand words before a single one left our lips.
I gathered my courage, taking a hesitant step toward the bed. Daphne stayed near the door, her presence a reminder that I wasn’t alone, though her silence felt like a vacuum.
A thousand thoughts raced through my head as I closed the distance, Maddox’s dark gaze following my every move.
My heart pounded violently in my chest as I lowered myself onto the bed, the edge dipping slightly under my weight. My body was so close to his wounded leg that I could feel the heat radiating from the poorly bandaged wound.
Daphne remained still, watching us both while clutching the items I’d asked her to bring.
“I’m here to help you,” I said.
His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression inscrutable as he studied me, his silence heavier than any words could have been.
“Will you let me?” I asked again, my voice trembling despite my effort to keep it steady.
Still, he said nothing.
He stared at me, the cold emptiness in his gaze making my breath catch. Then his eyes flickered to Daphne, and for a moment, I thought he might say something, but he remained quiet.
I turned to Daphne and nodded. She stepped forward cautiously, handing me the small bowl of water where the medicine had dissolved.
Maddox’s gaze stayed fixed on me as I dipped the towel into the water, the warm liquid soaking into the fabric and searing my skin like a brand. With trembling hands, I pressed the cloth to his leg, starting to clean the wound.
His reaction was subtle—a barely audible sigh of relief. He leaned his head back against the bed’s headboard, his eyes falling shut for the first time since I’d entered the room.
His tense expression softened slightly as the warm towel worked over his wound, the sharp angles of his face now framed by the disheveled mess of his dark hair.
I hated how I noticed everything—the small flinch of his jaw when I pressed too hard, the way his breathing slowed as the pain eased. Every detail felt magnified, seared into my memory against my will.
The room fell into silence except for the soft sound of the towel moving against his skin and the faint sighs of relief he let slip.
Maddox let me clean his wounds without much resistance. My hands trembled as I moved to clean his face, the cloth brushing against his jawline and over the cuts that marred his sharp features.
I felt his eyes on me again, burning with intensity even though he barely moved. When I dared to glance up, his gaze was locked on mine, so raw and unrelenting that it stole the air from my lungs.
My skin burned under his scrutiny, my pulse racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
“You’re that scared of me that you needed company to come here?” Maddox muttered, his voice loud enough for Daphne to hear. I saw her scratch her arm awkwardly, a hint of a blush creeping across her face as she shifted under his piercing gaze.
“If you don’t talk, it will hurt less,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I continued to wash his face. My fingers trembled against his skin, but I refused to look at him. Despite the pain, Maddox’s lips twisted into that infamous grin of his.
“I would hardly call this pain.”
“None of this would have happened if you’d just given my father the information he needs.” I said.
He was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if considering my words. Then, he hummed under his breath.
“Get your puppet out of the fucking room, and maybe I’ll give you just that.”
The way he spoke, low and husky, was calculated. His eyes never left Daphne as he said it, ensuring she heard every word. Daphne shifted uncomfortably, her face flushing a deeper shade of red as Maddox’s words lingered in the air.
“That’s fucking rude,” she muttered, clearly upset. “I’m not a puppet,”
“Whatever you say, redhead,” Maddox taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. I clenched my jaw, trying not to let it get to me. He was doing this on purpose. I could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface. This wasn’t about Daphne; it was about him. He was pushing every button he could find.
“You are such a dick,” Daphne muttered, more to herself than to anyone else, but her words didn’t go unheard. Maddox’s cold laugh filled the room. Before things could escalate further, I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended.
“Daphne, go.”
She froze, her gaze shifting between Maddox and me, with confusion written on her face.
“But—”
“Just go.”
Her eyes narrowed in frustration, but after a moment’s hesitation, she sighed and left the room without another word.
It was just us now. Alone.
I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, cleaning his wounds under his watchful, unblinking gaze. The silence between us stretched, but it wasn’t comfortable.
Not anymore.
His presence in the room was suffocating, his every movement a challenge, his stare a weight that pressed on my chest.
Then, as if to break the tension, Maddox spoke again, his voice so quiet it almost seemed like he was testing me.
“Jealousy looks good on you.”
I scoffed, gripping the towel harder, my fingers nearly white with the force. “Oh please, I’m not jealous,” I shot back, trying to keep the laugh in my voice, hoping it masked the unease gnawing at my insides.
“Whatever makes you feel better, princess.”
Maddox’s voice was a smirk, but the words stung. For a man who had so many wounds, he sure knew how to keep his sharp tongue intact.
I clenched my jaw, trying to focus on cleaning his wound instead of the taunting edge in his voice.
“You wanted her out,” I said, changing the subject quickly. “Now talk.”
“Bossy, I like that.”
“Maddox,” I said, my voice almost a whisper, tinged with exhaustion. “Cut the games. I don’t have the energy for it.”
His eyes lingered on me— as if he were studying me in a way that made every inch of me feel exposed. His gaze wasn’t just on my face, though. It moved downward, slowly taking me in, a look so dirty and shameless it made my skin prickle.
My heart raced when his attention finally settled where my body brushed against his leg. Such a simple contact, but it burned.
“You’re sitting too close for someone who’s afraid of me,” he muttered, still eyeing where our bodies met. I quickly moved my leg away, forcing myself to ignore the spark of heat that lingered.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
His smirk deepened, and I saw the challenge in his eyes.
“You’re lying.” His words struck harder than they should have. “You are scared.”
I froze, tension flooding my body as his words sank in. I hadn’t noticed my hands shaking until now, my fingers trembling against his skin as I tried to focus on the task at hand.
“You’re afraid that if my hands weren’t tied behind my back right now, I could do something very bad to you.”
His words lingered in the air like a dark promise, and I could feel the weight of the truth in them. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but I couldn’t lie to myself.
He was right. I was afraid. But despite the fear, I was still here. And I wasn’t leaving. I sucked in a breath, my eyes flickering to the ground, avoiding his gaze.
“I’m sorry for everything they did to you,” I whispered after a long moment of silence.
My voice barely rose above a murmur.
‘‘If I knew—’’
“What?” he interrupted, his tone as cold as ever. “You were going to change your mind about what you did?” His laugh was cruel, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Cut the bullshit, Allyn.”
I lowered my gaze, letting the silence settle between us.
Minutes passed before he spoke again, his voice low and gravelly, as though every word he said carried weight.
“I have no part in what my father did to you,” he muttered, the words eerily familiar, almost echoing the ones he said that night in the hotel.
Back then, I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to.
But now, just like then, there wasn’t a drop of uncertainty in his eyes or on his face, a quiet confidence as if he expected me to see the truth in his words.
“Did your father tell you that I came to see him the day before he took you from us?” He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening. “He was the one who told me the truth— he showed me everything.”
His words left me frozen in place, too stunned to move. Mikael had never mentioned this to me. It made no sense.
“Now what? He’s trying to make you believe I have something to do with all of this?” Maddox’s voice was bitter, his laugh ironic. “If that’s the case, your father is no different than mine, princess.”
I blinked. “Why would he do that?”
“To get what he wants.” Maddox nodded toward himself, the look in his eyes turning darker. “To see my family dead.”
“You’re lying,” I hissed through clenched teeth, my body bracing against the truth that threatened to unravel everything I thought I knew.
Maddox shook his head, his expression unflinching.
“Why would I lie to you?” he asked, his tone quiet but firm. “Ask your father.”
I threw the towel into the bowl with a sharp motion, the sound of it splashing against the water like the final crack of a breaking dam.
I stood abruptly from the bed, my heart pounding, my mind spinning with confusion and betrayal.
“I knew it was a mistake to come here,” I whispered, shaking my head as a sick feeling spread in my gut.
Regret. So much regret.
But more than regret, there was something darker. A part of me hated that I couldn’t shake him out of my mind. That, no matter how much I wanted to push him away, I still cared. I still cared about him.
I couldn’t figure out what was worse—the possibility that Maddox was right or the crushing realization that, after everything, I didn’t even know who to trust anymore.
“Probably yes,” he agreed, his voice dripping with a mix of bitterness and dark satisfaction. “But you’re still here.”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
“I’m sure you’d love to,” he replied, his tone almost too casual for the weight of his words. “Tell me, princess, would you let me fuck you with all the anger built inside me? Would you let me destroy that sweet little pussy of yours the same way you destroyed me when you chose to betray me?”
His vulgar words hit me like a slap, unexpected and cruel.
I felt my heart thundering in my chest, my body betraying me in the worst possible way. I knew it was fucked up, but I couldn’t control it. I was drawn to him, no matter how much I wanted to push him away.
“Maddox, stop,” I begged, my voice trembling as I tried to find some control. But he wasn’t done yet.
“Stop what?” he sneered, his anger flaring once again. “Telling you the fucking truth? That you’re a traitor?”
He spat the words, the pain evident in his voice.
“While the thought of betraying you has never, even for once, crossed my fucking mind.”
Each word hit like a blow.
The guilt twisted in my gut, sharp and suffocating. I wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but the truth was that he was right.
I had betrayed him.
All the scars on his face, the wounds on his leg, the bruises covering his body—every single one of them was a direct consequence of my thirst for revenge.
“You can say I’m cruel all you fucking want,” he muttered. “But you’re no different than me, princess.”
His eyes locked onto mine, cold and unwavering.
“But I never thought about betraying your trust. Everyone else’s yes. But not yours.”
“You say all of this to play with my fucking head!” I screamed through the tears, my body trembling.
“If that’s what you believe, then you should leave and never come back.”
“And if it’s not?”
I threw the challenge out into the room. I don’t know what to believe anymore. My heart was pounding in my chest, waiting for his response.
His jaw clenched, and his eyes seemed to shift, something flickering inside them. Then, with surprising calmness, he spoke.
“If not, then kiss me.”
The words hung between us, thick and heavy, neither of us daring to break the gaze.
His eyes were burning with intensity, as if he was begging me to give in, to do exactly what he wanted. I should turn around, run away from him and never look back.
I know I should.
But at that moment, all reason left me.
I was helpless. Helpless like a prisoner, unable to free myself from this pull. Like I was the one cuffed to a bed, tortured not by him but by myself. The part of me that wanted to stay away, that wanted to protect myself from this chaos, was being drowned out by the overwhelming desire and emotion that surged through me.
I leaned forward, tears still streaking down my face.
The air between us thickened with every second that passed. And then, with a deep breath, I closed the gap, capturing his mouth in a kiss.
A kiss that wrecked me. It was all-consuming, tearing through me like a storm. Every part of me that wanted to resist was drowned out by the heat of his lips on mine. It meant more than it should have, and I hated myself for letting it mean so much.
Even though his hands were tied, and he couldn’t physically push me away, he didn’t want to.
He could’ve pulled away, but instead, he deepened the kiss, his mouth taking mine with a fervor that made my heart race.
I moaned softly, feeling the fire that ignited inside me, every nerve in my body alight with his touch.
His tongue slid into my mouth, and we both fought for dominance, each of us taking the other’s breath, stealing it away until we were one, desperate for more. I felt as if I was falling, but I didn’t know where the ground was anymore. Everything I thought I knew about myself, about him, was slipping away.
All that remained was the heat, the touch, the raw connection between us. At that moment, I couldn’t force myself to care about the guards outside, their whispers or the risk of them barging in to catch us like this. The only thing that mattered was Maddox. Everything else faded into nothing.
I pulled back, gasping for air, trying to steady my racing heart.
His breath was ragged, his body leaning into mine, as if he needed me just as much.
“You have every right to hate me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.
Maddox shook his head, his tired eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t hate you, Allyn,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’m capable of hating you even though I want to.”
His lips curved upward in the faintest of smiles, and his eyes met mine with raw sincerity.
“Everyone else, but not you.”