Page 64 of Blackmailed to the Altar

I grabbed the back of her neck and dragged her into the next room. I looked around, smiling at what we’d stumbled upon. The family doctor’s private medical room. It didn’t have everything he needed, but he kept supplies here, and a nice setup, like he was a real doctor.

He wasn’t, not after what happened.

But we didn’t care about a little thing like a medical license. I pushed Mya face down on the table, and strapped her in. She trembled, but she didn’t fight me.

“I’ll answer any questions you have,” I mused as I set it all up.

I was going to make it so my wife would never leave my side again. That she would never betray me again. She was lucky she got to keep her life, because I’d killed men for less.

I grabbed a scalpel and gently massaged her neck. “I want to be clear, this is going to hurt. A lot,” I warned her. Then I started carving my initials into the back of her neck.

Riccardo.

I didn’t want to add anything of his. My jagged S already bled profusely, and I could feel the signs of a migraine coming on. Was that his presence? I didn’t want him taking over, so I added an R right next to my S, all while listening to my pretty little doctor scream.

It shouldn’t have brought such joy to my soul, but I wasn’t surprised. I was a psychopath after all. Whether I wanted to accept it or not.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Dr. Mya

I woke back up on the table, wiggling even though I was in pain. I tried to move my neck, but it hurt so bad. Sebastian grabbed my blood-soaked hair and forced me to look at him. I whimpered and pulled away from him.

“You’ll always remember who you belong to now.” He switched, and Riccardo suddenly stood before me, his eyes wide.

“Thank g-goodness,” I sobbed, relieved that it was over. Sebastian had maimed me.

“What the fuck?” Riccardo’s eyes narrowed. “Who did this to you?”

“B-because I- on the p-”

“Who marked you like this,” he growled, interrupting me.

“S-Sebastian.”

Riccardo slammed a fist down on the nightstand. “Don’t say his fucking name.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I cried out. There was no pleasing either of them, it seemed.

“Why?” He grabbed my throat, choking me.

I would claw at his hand, if I could, but the bindings stopped me. “W-why w-what?” I wheezed.

He squeezed tighter. “Why did you fucking drug us? Were you trying to leave?” His eyes were manic.

“I-I wasn’t trying to run,” I stammered out. “I w-was lonely.”

My heart pounded. He was losing control, teetering on the edge of something dark, and I had to find a way to reach him, before it was too late. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to steady myself. This wasn’t about the damn phone anymore; it was about the suffocating loneliness that had been gnawing at me since he’d taken me, the constant fear of losing every connection to the outside world. I just needed to hear a familiar voice.

He squeezed harder, and I saw black spots in my vision as I started falling in and out of consciousness. My hands weakly pulled at the restraints until I slowly lost feeling in them. He let go then, and I gasped in air, tears gathering in my eyes.

“You called another man?” He yanked on my hair.

I yelped. “N-no,” I gasped out. “Never. I called my little.”

His grip loosened in his confusion. “Your what now?”

“She’s in my old sorority. Since there weren’t enough sisters this year, I was helping her with her sponsored girl. B-but something is wrong.” The memory of the phone call echoed in my mind, even as the pain throbbed in the back of my neck.

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