Page 55 of Awakening the Beast
“Wouldn’t it be better if we went somewhere where nobody can hear my screams?” she asks, her gaze reflecting with a mischievous glint.
Her words snap me back, reminding me of something similar I said to her once and in this moment, I feel like a fucking teenager all over again. A fucking virgin, desperate for pussy. But she’s right. This isn’t the place. As much as I want to lose control right here, I can't. I can’t do what the fuck I want to her here.
With a growl, I force myself to let her go, stepping back even though every fiber of my body screams to keep her close. My breath is heavy, annoyance curling in my stomach as I stand upright, adjusting my clothes. She does the same, and when we’re both ready, I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door.
Arlo and I pull up to the spot in his sleek, black Lamborghini, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as we come to a halt. The doors lift open, and we both step out simultaneously. I circle the car to meet him on the other side, my heels sinking slightly into the rocky ground as he rests his hand on my ass, escorting me toward the looming building.
The place hasn’t changed since the last time I was here. It's still cold, still intense, just as I remember it. Dominic is standing outside the same room where Izzy was once locked up, his stance stiff. It’s clear this time, it’s Savannah behind those doors. As we approach, Arlo’s phone rings, cutting through the silence. We both stop, and he reaches into his pocket, glancing down at the screen.
“It’s one of the suppliers,” he mutters, his expression hardening. “I need to take this. You good to handle things in there?”
I give a small nod, ready to move forward, but before I can take a step, his grip closes around my upper arm, and I glance back at him.
“Don’t fucking kill anyone,” he warns.
I arch an eyebrow, but I give him the smallest of nods, and he releases me. As he walks back toward the entrance to answer his call, I refocus, stepping toward Dominic.
When I stop in front of him, I look him dead in the eye. “So, what did you need us here for?”
He draws in a deep breath, his eyes shifting toward the door behind him as he responds. “We can’t move forward with Savannah until you hear what she has to say.”
My brows knit together, my voice growing sharper. “Since when do we care about what she has to say, Dom? Nothing should stop you from torturing that bitch.”
His discomfort is obvious as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.
“Trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this.” He says, looking away.
Suspicion creeps into my veins, but I gesture for him to step aside. As he does, I pull my pistol from my bag, the weight of it cold in my hand. I cock it back, feeling the power of it steady me before I step into the dimly lit room.
The moment I enter, the air changes—thick and heavy with previous murders. Savannah is slumped and bound in a chair in the center of the room, her head down, breaths ragged. I glance around at the shadows in the corners, where men silently watch, like predators waiting for a signal. My heels echo ominously as I approach and when I stop in front of her, I cock my head slightly, waiting for her to acknowledge me.
Finally, she lifts her eyes, and I raise a brow, taking in the bitter glint in her gaze. Her eyes slowly trail over me, filled with disdain, like she’s forgotten her current situation, as if she still holds some kind of power here. Then, like the stupid girl she’s always been, she starts laughing—loud and unhinged, her matted blonde hair partially shielding her face.
I remain perfectly still, watching her pathetic attempt to provoke me, not giving her an inch. It’s almost comical, how she thinks she can get under my skin. When her laughter dies down, she straightens herself in the chair, her smirk creeping back as she fixes her gaze on me.
“Well, well. I didn’t expect the Queen of Darkness to grace us with her presence.”
That twisted smile of hers, the one I used to want to slap right off her face, now ignites something darker inside me. I don’t respond, keeping my expression unreadable, but the weight of my gun feels more tempting by the second. She perks up suddenly, craning her neck to look past me.
“Is Master Arlo here too?” she asks, her voice filled with fake excitement.
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together, but I still don’t say a word.
“You know, I’m actually surprised you’re still with him.”
I raise a brow at her words but remain silent, letting her dig her own grave. She leans forward, her voice lowering as she stares deep into my eyes, like she’s trying to pierce through my composure.
“I mean, he killed his own wife. Ditched his kid. Andyou—while you were pregnant for six months, no less. Oh, and he fucked me while he was with you.”
The last part suddenly hits me like a gut punch, but I force myself to keep my face neutral. She’s just baiting me, surely. She’s just trying to crack my control. Despite knowing this, I feel the deceit rising in my chest, my palms sweating around the cold grip of my gun as she continues, her mouth curling into a sneer.
“Well, I’m not sure if you were together or not. He told me you had left him because we were getting married.”
I stare her down, my heart pounding in my ears.
“The only thing that put me off during those nights with him,” she says, leaning closer, her voice mocking, “was seeing your initial carved into his palm every time he wrapped it around my throat. But that cock ring he wears... made it all worthwhile.”
The surge of rage that floods through me is instant, my vision narrowing to a pinpoint and before I can think, my hand flies up, the back of it crashing against her face with a sharp crack. Her head snaps to the side, and for a moment, the room is still.
