Page 42 of Trapping His Assassin

Benedikt’s words echoed in my mind, and I finally comprehended the full extent of the harm he had caused to my woman. As he gazed at me with his bruised and nearly shut-eye, his complexion paled, as he saw the realization dawn on me.

“I-I’m sick. I-I ca-can’t h-help myself.” The lie slid off his tongue, like he’d told it a thousand times before.

I sliced upward, sawing through as much as I could, before reaching my hand inside his guts, and ripping out his intestines. I shoved them in his mouth.

I seldom used the app on my phone to give me a robotic voice, but this I felt I needed to say. “This is only the beginning of your punishment.” My phone spoke. “I will never forget, and I will make sure to see you suffer in Hell.” His eyes slowly lost their spark, and his body slumped, as all the energy seemed to drain out of him.

My great uncle Benedikt raised his brow in surprise. I never spoke through my phone. I didn’t like the voices. Even though I could change them, they weren’t quite me. Maybe if I didn’t know what I sounded like from before, it wouldn’t matter. But it does.

Relieved, I backed away, sliding down the wall with thoughts of the trauma my wife had lived through.

“I’ll clean up,” Benedikt whispered.

I nodded and closed my eyes for a minute. I needed a little rest. Then I would comfort my little killer, even if she didn’t want it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Valentina

I woke up with a start, lying in the dark and listening for anything out of the ordinary. Other than my neck and pussy being sore, there was nothing. I was jolted awake by something, but I couldn’t figure out what. As I shifted in bed, my arm brushed against something solid. Confused, I became aware of an arm draped around my waist.

One that belonged to the man who choked me out, while fucking me so hard I saw stars. Well, I shouldn’t think of it as fucking. It’s not like he asked my permission. He took what he wanted, which would qualify as rape.

Right?

I should be escaping, not debating whether or not Roman was forcing me. I mean, he did marry me against my will, but I needed to focus on getting out of there. Surprisingly, I discovered that my arms were not restrained to the bed.

As I fumed over Roman’s lack of fear towards me, my gaze landed on the gun resting in its holster on a nearby chair. My fingers itched to grab it and prove him wrong, but I resisted the urge. I slowly moved his arm off my body, sliding a pillow in theplace of me so he wouldn’t rouse. It was begging for me to grab it and I did.

I couldn’t believe my luck.

I headed into the bathroom to clean up, when something in the mirror caught my gaze. Placing the gun on the counter, I twisted and turned. I’d tried not to think about the mark between my shoulder blades. It peeked out from certain outfits but I tried to cover it.

That man who grabbed Headmaster Mikhail’s cattle prod, and shoved it down onto my back while he took his pleasure from behind. That sadistic filthy man who called me ‘his Meera’. He disfigured me with The Academy’s school logo.

The original mark, with its harsh lines and angular design, was almost completely obscured by the new ink. In the center, the word ‘Roman’ emerged, bold and strong, etched in a font that felt both timeless and imposing. The circle with the gothic mansion standing in the center with a cursive ‘A’ in the corner was gone. In its place was a red, raised tattoo.

I gasped, trying to see more, but I couldn’t. I rummaged through the cabinets until I found a hand mirror and turned around to look again.

The shading was dark and rich, with deep blacks and hints of dark blues that blended seamlessly with my skin, concealing the old brand beneath. The texture was incredible; every detail was crisp and layered, adding a depth that drew the eye away from the original mark.

I saw elements of ancient Roman motifs taking shape around the text, like subtle laurel wreaths and a proud phoenix, blending into the design. Delicate vines and flowers wove through the patterns, adding a natural, flowing touch. It all came together in a way that not only hid the old brand, but transformed it into something entirely new and meaningful.

I sobbed, grabbing the gun, and ran into the other room. I couldn’t believe he marked me. Another man taking advantage of my sleeping form. It hadn’t been the first time nor would it be that last. But, it was beautiful and made my chest ache. I glared down at Roman’s sleeping form.

I could take another shot at this fucker, escape, and get back to The Academy without getting caught. I was Femme Fatale. No one would stop me. As I quietly slipped past the bed and crouched down, Roman stirred in his sleep. My heart raced, as I waited for him to settle again before tiptoeing across the room. Scanning the floor, my eyes landed on a pile of clothes in the corner. They were Roman’s discarded t-shirts and sweatpants, baggy but still wearable for me.

As I walked back over to him, moonlight shone over his face from the balcony door. My eyes couldn’t help but roam, as I took in his features. He was so young. If I killed him right now, that’s it.

His life would be over.

He wouldn’t be on this Earth anymore. I didn’t think a kid like him could be completely bad. His life probably led him down this path. It made me feel so much sympathy for the little boy he used to be.

As I was about to put the gun down, his eyes snapped open, scaring the fuck out of me. With a squeak, I aimed the gun, my hand shaking, and lobbed off a shot. Then I threw it at him like an idiot, and took off out the balcony door.

I started climbing down, praying I didn’t slip since I wasn’t wearing any shoes. But God must’ve been sleeping tonight, because I slipped and fell into the arms of an unknown man.

I’d forgotten in the whirl of my escape that Roman wasn’t alone.

---