Page 48 of Dark Alliance
He’s carrying an unidentified object that sparkles under the buzzing overhead lights.
He tosses that object at my feet. “Put this on.” After vanishing into a shadow yet again, he reappears dragging a chair.
I ignore him. Not only because I can’t obey—my hands aren’t exactly in a position to grab clothes—but because now I’m just a day player in one of his sick fantasies. It’s one thing to be angry about what I did and want revenge.
But whateverthisis terrifies me.
And arouses me.
Fuck my life.
“I said, put it on.”
I jiggle the chains, scraping them against the pole. “How do you expect me to do that?”
He returns and unlocks the restraints, removing them from each wrist. I’m exhausted and dehydrated. How long since I’ve last eaten? Even with clothes, I’m in no shape to run.
Just in case, he pulls a gun from his waistband and sits in that folding chair. “Put it on.”
Even if it’s humiliating, I’d rather be nude than do what he wants. I kick at the flimsy blue garment. Lace and ribbon tangle on my toes. It looks about as comfortable as chicken wire and probably won’t even fit.
Connor crosses his ankles and reclines in his chair. His finger rests on the trigger, while the barrel sits in his other hand. Waiting.
This asshole kidnapped me, stripped me down, and now he’s giving me the silent treatment?
The fear and arousal swirl into a brand-new rage that burns away the nausea and cold, leaving me hot and ready to claw his eyes out if he gets close enough.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” If he’s going to kill me, he should just do it already.
He doesn’t reply.
I try again. “And who made you this way?”
Connor puffs almost proudly, one of those thick eyebrows cocked. “My father.”
That’s a horrifying admission. My father’s the reason I got into swimming and art. Why I’m surviving life without a mother, and why I’m here right now. I was attempting to spare him from spending more days in jail.
By contrast, Connor’s father…molded him into a monster.
The realization sobers me.
What sort of life has this man led?
I guess Connor reads my horror because his eyes narrow, and he surges up from his chair, a vein pulsing in his neck.
The hair on my nape prickles.
Thisis angry Connor. Dangerous Connor.
He barrels toward me and grabs me by the hair, yanking my head back.
I cry out, more from surprise than pain. Though he tugs, the pull doesn’t hurt.
Connor gets into my face. “You’re disgusted? Repulsed? Wait until I kill Nino and then Eduardo and come back with their eyeballs.” He releases my hair and goes back to his bargain-basement throne. “Put it on, Caterina.”
I shudder as fear cools my anger once more.
I don’t want him to ever look at me like that again.
