Page 70 of Darkest Sin

My body is bruised and broken, covered in blood and gashes from the sharp tip of the blade. When I hear the loud clang of the metal door closing behind them, I curl into a ball, not even able to reach for the discarded remains of my clothes, and like that, I cry.

I cry for my dignity. The pain that consumes me. The violent thrusts on repeat inside my mind. Their sickening laughter. The shame. The fear. The blood that coats my skin. Their cum between my thighs that I’m unable to wipe away. The desperation for it to end.

I cry. And cry.

And I don’t stop until exhaustion claims me, and I fall into a dark pit of nothingness.

31

KILLIAN

My driver pulls up outside Chiara’s apartment complex, coming to a stop right in front of the SUV I assigned to Chiara’s security team, though they shouldn’t still be here. She should have left for work hours ago.

When she called me this afternoon, something didn’t feel right. The call only rang once, not long enough for me to answer and figure out what she needed, and when I tried to call back, the call was disconnected. It could have been put down to her emotions running wild and missing me just as desperately as I’ve missed her these past few days, but when I checked in with her security detail, no one answered. My team always answers. Something is wrong.

I’ve barely stepped out of my car before I notice the dried blood staining the sidewalk, and as sheer panic captures me in a chokehold, I look back toward the SUV parked behind mine.

It’s empty, but I’m more focused on the bullet hole that goes right through the windshield, directly through the center of where the driver would have been sitting.

Fuck.

Travis and Jake were my best men, which is exactly why I assigned them to Chiara. With them, I knew she was safe. They were focused, brutal, and paid sharp attention to detail, all while still being capable of blending in. They wouldn’t have intimidated her, and given time, I’m sure they all would have become quite friendly.

Dread sinks heavily into my veins.

Chiara.

If something has happened to her . . . fuck.

As I cut across the sidewalk, I lift my gaze to Chiara’s bedroom window and find it wide open. She doesn’t strike me as the type to be careless about her safety, whether her apartment is on the third story or not. She’s supposed to be at work, and I doubt she would leave for the night without locking up properly.

At the complex door, I use the spare key I had copied and make my way into the building, my pace quickening by the second.

Something doesn’t feel right. I’ve been in enough situations like this to know when things aren’t adding up. Hell, I’ve been the reason for this kind of dread more times than I could ever try to count.

What are the chances that the two men I assigned to Chiara just happened to lose their lives in a bad street mugging that turned deadly? Because the only other explanation is that someone came for my girl, and if I open her door to find her lying in a pool of blood on the ground, the storm I will wield will bring this whole fucking world down.

Reaching the third floor, I storm toward Chiara’s door, only to find it in shattered pieces on the floor.

I pause, quickly taking in the apartment.

It’s dead quiet apart from the outside noise flowing in through the open bedroom window, but all that matters to me is the smashed phone I’d given Chiara left on the floor.

I stride deeper into the apartment and crouch down in front of the phone before scooping it up. The screen is smashed, but upon pressing the home button, it lights up and I brush my thumb across the shattered glass to find it open to our text chain with an unsent text.

The screen is too shattered to try and make out the words clearly, so I hit send and wait just a moment for the text to arrive on my phone.

Chiara — Stop being such an arrogant asshole and see what’s right in front of your face. I belong right there with you. I love you, and I know you love me, too. Nothing else should matter.

Fuck me. She couldn’t be so right.

I screwed up letting her go. I should have held on tighter, and instead of letting the fear of losing her keep me from loving her, I should have figured out the source of that fear and burned it to the ground.

After making a quick round of Chiara’s apartment, it becomes all too clear that she’s not here. Apart from the open window, shattered phone, and broken door, there doesn’t appear to be any sign of foul play against her. If she was hurt here, it wasn’t enough to draw blood.

Pulling up my driver’s number on my phone, I give him a quick call. “Boss?”

“Head down to Chiara’s bar, make sure she’s not working and report back.”

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