Chapter 7
Tenfold.
I smirked as I closed the door softly behind me, though the click of the latch echoed far too loud in my ears.
My hands itched to reach for a cigarette, a habit I'd killed years ago, but seeing her lying in that bed, vulnerable yet so impossibly defiant, brought back something old. Something dangerous.
The men were already in the dungeon.
A part of me relished the silence that came after the storm, when all the blood had been spilled, and the dust settled.
I stood in front of my office mirror, taking in the man staring back at me: sharp jawline, eyes hard as steel, hands still soaked in the blood of those who had dared come after what was his. But that wasn't the image I saw when I closed my eyes.
Matteo stepped into my office, his presence immediately filling the room. He was tall, cold-eyed, and efficient, everything I needed in a second-in-command. He didn't speak right away, just gave me a glance that said he knew where my head was.
Matteo was the only person I allowed to see me like this, because he never asked questions.
"They're down there," Matteo said, his voice low. "Still breathing. You want to handle it yourself, or should I?"
I met his gaze, and for a second, the air seemed to thicken between us. Matteo was loyal. But loyalty only went so far in our world. And sometimes, it wasn't enough.
"I'll handle it," I replied, turning away from him. "Make sure nothing happens up here."
"No." He replied.
I stopped in my tracks. "No? "
"No. I won't let you go down there on your own, you'll kill them."
I scoffed darkly, "And when did I ever say that wasn't my plan?"
When I closed my eyes, all I could see was her. Ara. The cute scowl on her face whenever she called me old man.
I descended the staircase, each step echoing in the hollow space below. I didn't need to see them to know they were there–-waiting for me to decide their fate. They had made their choice the moment they laid their hands on her.
The coldness of the dungeon hit me, and I took a moment to breathe in the sharp, metallic scent of it.
When I reached the last step, I paused, staring at the group of men shackled to the wall. Their heads snapped up, their eyes wide with fear.
"Do-do you know who my father is? He'll come for you!" The one named Zach, the stupid kid Ara decided to pity and entertain, yelled.
I ran my hand along the torture trolley, my fingers grazing the spiked whip.
Thwack!
Blood seeped from my hands as I gripped the whip tightly, slamming it into Zach's back. He screamed loudly, squealing with fear.
"Your father? He knows. He knows about all you did and let me tell you what he said. No, let me show you."
I brought out my phone scrolling through his father's chat. I pushed the phone to his face as his eyes widened.
'Please, do anything you want to him. Just don't make it public. I’ll do anything, sir. You can hurt him, just leave his legs intact. He may not be my heir, but he is my son.'
Tears began running from his eyes —not just tears— bloody tears. "W-who are you? W-how are you that my f-father fears to offend?"
I drew him closer. "Many people would rather not know me. I am the devil to some, a nightmare to others.” I bent down to his eye level, “and you don't need the internet to tell you what I am to you." I whispered, before slamming the hot rod on his stomach, eliciting a painful scream from him.
I glanced towards his mates, I didn’t even touch them, and the stench of urine filled the room with silent sobs.
"Please…I’ll never go near her again, please forgive us. Forgive me." He screamed.
"I can't do that though. I promised her I would make you pay tenfold of what you did to her." My eye twitched. "And I haven't even started."
I made my way to my study, passing walls lined with artifacts that I'd collected through years of calculated deals and carefully wielded violence.
Each piece was a reminder of what I had built and the enemies I'd crushed along the way. I was a man who controlled everything. Every variable. Every risk.
But Ara? She was chaos in silk and steel.
The sting of the cuts on my arms didn't bother me. Not anymore. The blood staining my shirt didn't bother me either.
It was just another day in my life, another set of problems that had to be cleaned up. But as I climbed the steps back to my room, all I could feel was the tension in the air, the one that had been building since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Ara.
I could feel her presence before I saw her, the way the air shifted around her. But when I turned the corner, I didn't expect her to be standing right there, her gaze locked on me.
For a moment, I froze.
Her eyes, burning with that mixture of defiance and confusion, met mine. I could see the way her body stiffened at the sight of the blood on me. I knew what she was thinking, her disgust, her fear, everything that told her to turn away.
And yet, she stood there leaning on her right foot in a big t-shirt. Not running. Not doing what she was supposed to do.
This kid.
I cursed under my breath, the blood on my clothes suddenly feeling heavier. I tried to keep my face neutral, but I couldn't help it. My mind raced, fighting with itself.
Run, Dominic. You need to get away from her. Now. She doesn't belong in your world.
But that damn stubborn look in her eyes. She wasn't afraid of me, no matter how much she should be.
I started walking, trying to ignore the pull she had on me. But when I passed by, I couldn't resist.
"Need help?" Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, and I didn't want to admit it, but it did something to me. It made my gut twist in a way that had nothing to do with the wounds I'd just sustained.
She wasn't supposed to care.
She wasn't supposed to stand there, looking at me like she actually wanted to help.
I didn’t really need her help. I was the one who was supposed to be untouchable. I was the one who wasn't supposed to be vulnerable. But in the span of a heartbeat, I found myself stopping.
My eyes narrowed at her, just enough to see the fire in her stance. My breath hitched when I saw the bruise on her wrist, the smallest mark from the ones Zach and his friends left on her. It pissed me off that he'd hurt her like that.
"You can't help me," I muttered under my breath, barely loud enough for her to hear. "You can’t even walk on your own properly."
The words were harsh. And I knew they stung, but I had to push her away. I had to.
But instead of retreating, she didn't even flinch. The girl didn't back down. Of course she wouldn't. Ara was a damn force of nature.
"I'm fine," she shot back, her voice calm but firm, like she wasn't about to be dismissed. "Now take your shirt off. I can clean you up, Dominic."
I stepped closer, and she tensed, good. She should. Because when I was this close, I couldn't think straight.
I wanted to say something to keep the distance between us, to push her away because it was easier that way. But when I looked at her, it was like I couldn't remember why I even wanted to.
I looked at her, my body tense, a bit too aware of how close we were standing now. She wasn't afraid of me, even though I could have easily snapped her neck with my bare hands if I wanted to. But she wasn't afraid. It pissed me off more than it should've.
"You've lost your damn mind if you think I'm letting you anywhere near me right now," I growled, stepping back a bit to put distance between us. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline from the torture still keeping me on edge. "Go back inside. I don't need your help."
The way she didn't back off, didn't listen to my orders, made the frustration inside me boil over. I knew she was stubborn. But now? It felt like she was playing a dangerous game, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to win or lose it.
"I've never had control over you. You don't follow anyone's rules," I said.
She tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Maybe that's because I've never wanted to follow yours."
Fuck.
I took a step back, only to feel her hand on my shoulder, her fingers brushing against the raw, still-healing cuts from the fight.
The touch was electric. I flinched, but I didn't move away. The moment I felt the heat of her hand on me; my breath caught in my throat.
"Let me help you," she insisted, her voice softer this time. It wasn't pleading. It was…real.
For a moment, I was frozen. Caught between the urge to pull away and the insane desire to lean into the warmth she was offering. What the hell was wrong with me?
I didn't answer her. I couldn't.
Instead, I looked at her, my jaw clenched, my mind warring with itself. She didn't want my help. Hell, I didn't even know if I wanted her to help me. But her eyes, those damn green eyes, were still on me. And I couldn't look away.
"Fine," I muttered, voice low, grating. "But if you try anything, anything at all, I won't hesitate to make you regret it."
She smiled, a slow, knowing smile. I hated how much it stirred me.
"Like what? Castrate you? I'll take my chances," she said.
"Damn it, Ara."
ARABELLA
The bathroom was too small.
I realized it the moment I stepped inside, flipping on the light.
The space felt claustrophobic, not because of the four walls, but because of him. And maybe that was exactly what unnerved me.
Dominic sat on the counter, his black shirt peeled halfway up, exposing the deep gash along his side. He looked out of place in the sterile white bathroom, too big, too dangerous, too much. The contrast made my pulse stutter in a way I refused to acknowledge.
He watched me with those dark eyes, the weight of his gaze dragging over every inch of me, like he was cataloguing my every reaction. Like he was expecting me to be scared.
I was not. But I should be.
I focused on the first aid kit, dragging it open with more force than necessary. My hands were still shaking slightly. I couldn’t let him see that.
"Take your shirt off."