Page 35 of His Bride

I snap my fingers and two of my most trusted men enter, their faces grim. Marco’s eyes widen as they grab him, forcing him to his feet.

“Strip him,” I order coldly.

Marco struggles, his pleas falling on deaf ears. “No, please! Dante, I’ll do anything!”

I watch impassively as they tear his clothes off, leaving him naked and shivering. The stench of his fear fills the room.

“Hold him down,” I command, retrieving a sharp blade from my desk drawer. The metal glints in the dim light, and Marco’s screams turn hysterical.

“You don’t understand loyalty,” I snarl, approaching him. “So I’ll make sure you never forget this lesson.”

The next few minutes are a symphony of screams and blood. I work methodically, my hands steady as I carve away his manhood. Marco’s cries eventually fade to whimpers, his body going limp.

When it’s done, I step back, wiping the blade clean on his discarded shirt. “Get him out of here,” I tell my men. “Make sure he lives. I want him to remember this every day for the rest of his miserable life.”

As they drag Marco away, I feel the anger still burning in my veins. The betrayal cuts deep, reminding me why I can never let my guard down.

I leave the bureau de change, the night air doing little to cool my rage. The drive home is a blur of dark thoughts and violent impulses. By the time I reach the house, my hands are shaking with pent-up emotion.

I slam the front door behind me, the sound echoing through the empty foyer. My blood still boils, Marco’s betrayal a fresh wound. The memory of his screams rings in my ears, but it’s not enough to quell the rage.

I loosen my tie, choking for air. The house feels like a cage. I need release. Solace. Fuck if I know.

My feet carry me upstairs, towards our bedroom. Adriana’s laughter drifts through the closed door, light and carefree. It grates against my frayed nerves.

I burst in, and she jumps, phone clattering to the floor. “Dante! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Her smile fades as she takes in my appearance. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “Upset doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Adriana steps closer, her brow furrowed with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I snap, but then I see the hurt flash across her face. I soften my tone. “It’s been a long day. How was the spa with Lucia?”

She brightens, launching into a story about facials and massages. I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Marco’s screams.

“Dante?” Adriana’s voice cuts through my dark thoughts. “What’s wrong? You look… haunted.”

I pace, unable to look at her. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Something’s bothering you.”

I whirl on her, fists clenched. “You want to know? Fine. One of our own betrayed us. Sold us out to our enemies.”

Adriana’s eyes widen. “Who?”

“Marco,” I spit the name like poison. “That rat bastard thought he could double-cross me and get away with it.”

“What did you do?” she asks, fear and curiosity warring in her eyes.

I laugh, harsh and bitter. “What do you think I did, cara? I made an example of him.”

She flinches, and I hate myself a little for putting that look on her face. But I can’t stop the words from pouring out.

“This is my world, Adriana. Betrayal means death. Or worse.”

She takes a step towards me, hand outstretched. “Dante…”

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