Page 7 of Hunted Vengeance

He takes a step forward, and I follow behind him. Once he’s in front of my bedroom, he reaches out, extends his index finger, and slides it from my shoulder to my elbow. I know he’s trying to be sexy, and I can’t deny he’s a good-looking guy, as far as my father’s goons go, but he would be dead if he touched me any more than this.

“Marcello,” I warn. “He will kill you.”

Marcello hums. “Between the fucker that married you and the one that’s chomping at the bit to marry you, I’m guessing sinking inside of that golden cunt would be worth dying over.”

“Marcello,” I exhale.

His lips twitch into a smirk as his gaze searches mine. “Will you say my name just like that when my cock is buried inside of you?”

This would be sexy as hell if I weren’t half in love with my husband and half terrified of my future all at the same time. But even if none of that were the case, I would never jeopardize one of my father’s men’s lives like that again.

“I’m going back into my prison cell,” I say. “Go find someone who won’t get you killed.”

I reach for the handle and push it down to open the door, then step inside. Closing it behind me, I lock it and walk toward the window. I’ve never felt more like a princess locked up in a tower than I do at this moment.

A Mafia princess.

With blood on her hands.

Definitely not a Disney princess.

MERRICK

There isa loud banging sound on my front door, and I don’t bother standing up to answer it. Anyone important has a key to my place. If they don’t, they can fuck off. The last time I answered the door was when I was fuckingserved.

So I won’t be doing that shit again.

When the front lock unclicks, I know it’s someone I know. One of my brothers, considering they’re the only ones who have access to my private home, just like I do theirs. I hear footsteps behind me, and then he stops.

“You’re alive,” Grayson announces.

“I’m alive,” I confirm as I reach for the bottle of whiskey beside me.

I don’t bother pretending with a glass any longer. Instead, I am drinking directly from the bottle, and I like it. Actually, it reminds me of the days after we escaped, were freed, whatever the fuck we did. I’m still not even sure if we escaped or if we were let go because we were no longer desirable.

Desirable.

What a fucking joke.

Teenage boys being desirable to men makes me fucking sick to my stomach. I want to scream every time I think about it. Throw shit around the room and scream—every goddamn time. I want to destroy people. I want to kill. And I will, one day. They will all fucking die.

“And you’ve holed yourself up for what reason?” he asks as he walks around my chair and sinks down in the one across from me.

Jerking my chin toward the envelope, I watch as he reaches for it and slides the papers out. His eyes move over the document, then his brow lifts before his gaze flicks up and finds mine.

“An annulment?” he asks. “Didn’t her own father catch you fucking her?” he asks.

I let out a chuckle, but it’s goddamn humorless because none of this shit is funny at all. “He did. I thought that his taking her was just a flex of the muscle. I didn’t expect this.”

“Does this mean you’re done with the Mafia?” he asks.

I snort. “It means that he’s done with me or whatever he thought that I could offer him,” I say.

Grayson shakes his head, his eyes finding mine. “Which makes me wonder if he’s got other plans for Colette.”

“Without a doubt, he does,” I confirm.

He presses his lips together, rolling them a few times before he continues. “You’re good with that?” he asks. “Because I’m sure that the annulment means there is another marriage in the future.”

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