Page 20 of Ruthless

My molars grind so viciously, it feels like they’ll crack under the pressure.

This female is a snake, an illusion of the sweet, caring woman I almost shackled myself to.

That realization devours what little remains of my cold, dead heart. Grabbing her honey blond hair, I wrench her neck backwards. Several of my men turn at her cry, only to quickly glance away. I free the switchblade from my pocket, and Sara whimpers as steel catches the light.

This is why she’s here. If she doesn’t suffer just as much as the men before her did, then what’s the fucking point?

I press the blade to the pale hollow of her throat, just hard enough for her eyes to round. “You think Ilovedyou?” I pull a mirthless chuckle from my chest, the sound dark and blackhearted even to my own ears. “You’re so fucking naive. You were just a convenient fuck. One so easily swayed by a few pretty words and expensive dinners, it almost took the fun out of it.”

Sara blanches as my vitriol finds the intended target. “Dante.”

As tears well in her eyes, I staunch a trickle of guilt over causing them.

Revenge. That’s the name of this game.

I grit my teeth and regain my composure. “Ah-ah. You don’t get to play the victim. Not yet. You have to earn it first.” She’s still wearing the tight green dress from the night before, and I drag the knife from her throat to in-between her breasts.

The ripping of cheap fabric is music to my ears. Angela loaned her the garment, so it’s not even hers. Sara works tirelessly to provide for her brother, even at the cost of her owncomfort. What did Jeremy wear to the office today? Fucking Calvin Klein, while his sister clearly hasn’t purchased anything new for herself in years.

I push away the sting of irritation that thought brings and focus instead on the fruits of my labor. My efforts reveal pale flesh cupped in a plain, tired white bra. Her smooth stomach with its smattering of freckles gives way to the apex of her legs, where matching plain panties hug her rounded hips.

“Doesn’t look like my life was worth much.” I chuckle as the material pools around her feet. “If you were going to sell me out, you should have asked for more money. At least then you could have afforded some decent lingerie.”

Sara huffs indignantly and slips free of me, demonstrating admirable agility. “Sell you out? I don’t even know what you’re?—”

“That’s enough for today.”

I silence whatever poor excuse she was about to rattle off, and the fight ceases like someone flipped a switch. Sara darts behind me, as if just now realizing she’s half-naked in a room full of brutal men, but they don’t concern me. If they value their lives, they wouldn’t dare chance a look at what’s mine.

My gaze lands on Gregor, who’s braced against the cage. He’s busted to shit, and his chest rises and falls in a ragged rhythm, but he’s on his feet.

I jerk my chin at him. “Get cleaned up and be in my office in twenty minutes.”

Sara snatches up her torn dress as I drag her into the hall, attempting to position the ruined fabric to protect her modesty.

“Still shy, I see.”

She ignores the dig, crossing her arms to cover herself. “Are you going to leave Gregor alone now? You’ve made your damn point.”

She’s changed. The woman I knew wouldn’t have challenged me like this. She would have fallen apart in a heap of pathetic crocodile tears. Maybe I never really knew her at all.

That just means I’ll have to find new ways to torture her.

“Of course not.” I pull a grin from somewhere. My ass, probably. “In fact, since you like him so much, I’m thinking he’ll be your new guard.”

“Why do I need a guard?” I’m close enough to catch the way her brow furrows. “You’re the only one I need protection from.”

Not remotely true, given my lifestyle, but far be it from me to tell her otherwise. “Good I suggest you remember that.”.

My smile dies as I walk away.

Chapter 7

Sara

The days pass in a blur, and despite his injuries, Gregor does everything for me. The black and purple bruises marring his skin and the way he grimaces in pain as he moves trigger a deep-seated shame inside me. Although I want to avert my eyes from the damage, I force myself to look.

This is who Dante truly is. A man with no compunctions about hurting other people to cause me pain.