Page 5 of Ruthless Beasts

Adam Ferrari.

He was dead. At least that’s what the world thought. But if that was true, how could he be standing before me? His grotesque face demanding attention as he ordered me to be his? Could I do it? Could I be the bride of a man like him? I was doubtful. But given the circumstances, I had no choice.

His goon tossed me over his shoulder before I could recover from the unexpected kiss, not giving me a chance to say goodbye to my family before he had me out into the open air, kicking and screaming about just how unjust the situation was. He didn’t listen. Neither of them did.

“Should we wait for Ace?” The vibration of the words radiated through my body as the man who carried me spoke.

“He’ll ride with Drew.” Adam, apparently my new husband, spoke. His voice was so much rougher than I was used to. It was oddly lulling. “I’ll drive.”

“Good.” The man snorted. “I don’t think your hellcat would stop abusing me long enough to allow me the honor.”

“Put me down!” I screamed, knowing not a single person would dare come to my aid, but the position he held me in made me nauseous, and I was growing lightheaded.

“You wish, princess.” The jackass laughed, and I pounded into his back extra hard, hoping to cause at least a bruise.

“Please,” I begged. “I just want to?—“

Only I never finished that sentence because whatdidI want to do? Go home? To the father who all but cast me out for a situation out of my control? A father who offered me up to the enemy to save face when the enemy caused it all to begin with? What good was a truce when it was formed in deceptions and lies?

At least now I knew that what I saw is what I got.

A monster.

“Should we gag her?” the manhandler asked Ferrari.

I paused in my assault to look up at him as he followed us, a keyring causally spinning on his finger. Our eyes collided and instantly I looked away. “She’ll behave.” How could he be so sure? I was always one to rebel. But before I asked, he added, “She made the choice: her life for her father’s.”

Was it really a choice, though? It was done under duress, after all. Still, I behaved until the brute pitched me forward a few minutes later, laying me flat in the back of a luxury car before he climbed in next to me, pushing the layers of fabric aside to make room.

Ferrari climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. “The child locks are on, wife.” The word dripped with disgust. “Don’t try to escape.”

With the acid that churned in my stomach right now, threatening to project at any second, I had no plans to escape. It would be useless anyway. His men were everywhere, crowding out of the church full of people I’d never met. If I tried to run, surely one of them would capture me and bring me back.

“You sick?” the brute next to me asked before he leaned over to speak to Ferrari. “She’s not looking so hot. Get me some ginger candy from the glove box.”

Ferrari raised a brow as he pulled onto the street, but kept his eyes on the road as he leaned over and flipped open the glove box. His hand fumbled around blindly before he finally latched on to something and offered it to the brute over my shoulder. He took it with a quick thanks before he turned to me, offering what was in his hand.

I didn’t take it, and he growled his impatience. “It’s not poison. It will settle your stomach.”

I wished it was that simple.

“Your captives get carsick often?” I responded.

“You’re not my captive.”

“What am I?” I prompted.

“You’re his captive. Now take the candy. It will help. I just got this thing detailed.”

All the more reason for me to undetail it. Still, I reached over and took the candy before unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth. I will admit, it eased the sickness bubbling inside.

After a few minutes of silence, he offered, “Ace gets carsick if he isn’t driving. They help.”

I didn’t respond, but I was thankful to Ace. I wondered if I could snag a few of those to go, but I wouldn’t ask. I refused to ask these men for anything.

The drive seemed endless. The city faded to suburbs, the suburbs to country, and during this drive, Ferrari hadn’t said a single word. In fact, the silence in the car was deafening, so damn quiet I almost wanted to speak. To fill the rest of the drive with endless chatter, just so I didn’t feel as uncomfortable. I was about to cave, about to offer a temporary truce, when we turned through a metal gate and drove up toward a massive house.

“This is our home,” the brute informed me. Our? He lived here too?

---