Page 23 of Savage Don's Captive

“Sir, I–I–I didn’t mean—”

“Walk. Away.”

Cardo backs the fuck off, and I stalk toward her like a predator closing in. My eyes fix on that trickle of blood snaking down her neck, disappearing beneath her sweatshirt. Goddamn waste. If anyone’s gonna mark that smooth skin, it should be me. Her hair’s stuck to her face with sweat, her lips cracked and pale. Shelooks like hell, and I still want to taste her. Fucked up how even now—filthy, exhausted, hating me with every fiber—she makes my cock jump. That fire in her eyes hasn’t dimmed a bit. Those same eyes that looked up at me, wide and wanting, now burning with murder. Christ… that shouldn’t turn me on even more, but it does. I want to break that defiance, just to see her yield to me again until she’s begging—not out of fear, but need.

“What will it take, hmm?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “What will it take for you to fucking cooperate, Alessa?”

I’m ready to own that fire without extinguishing it completely.

“A little respect would be a good start.” Her eyes lock on mine, unwavering. “You want me to talk? Then fucking talk to me like I’m a human being. I have questions, too.”

“I’ve tried that, and it didn’t work.”

“Breaking into my home, drugging me, and flying me to God knows where isn’t talking, Dominic. Intimidation wouldn’t work, either. Because I fight back.”

“Oh, I know you fight back, Alessa.” The endearment slips out before I can catch it. “How about this—you answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours. I’m sure you have hundreds.”

“Thousands.” Her lips twitch, almost a smile.

“Is that a deal?”

She studies me, gaze traveling from my face to my shoes and back. “Fine.”

Relief washes through me. Progress, finally. Maybe I won’t have to hurt her after all. The thought shouldn’t matter—I’ve fucked up plenty of people for less—but the idea of marking her perfect skin makes my chest twist uncomfortably. I’ve never hesitated before. Never questioned what needed to be done.

Mercy is a liability in our world.

Yet here I am, searching for alternatives—looking for ways to get what I need without breaking her.

“Say it,” I press.

“I answer your questions as long as you answer mine.”

“Great. Because I don’t like being made a fool, Alessa.” I step closer, letting her see the danger in my eyes. “And you know what happens to people who don’t play by my rules?”

In one fluid motion, I draw my gun, the metal cold and familiar in my palm. Cardo’s eyes widen, that cocky smirk freezing on his face as I aim at his forehead, understanding dawning too late.

The gunshot cracks through the basement like a thunderclap in the confined space. The stench of gunpowder fills my lungs. I don’t flinch. Don’t blink. This is what I was born to do.

Alessa startles as Cardo drops like a puppet with cut strings, skull exploding in a shower of red. His body twitches once, twice,then goes still as blood pools beneath what’s left of his head. His knife skitters across concrete, landing at Alessa’s feet like an offering.

Her face—that perfect fucking face—now wears a splatter of blood and brain matter across one cheek. A baptism in violence. Her plush mouth parts, shock stealing her breath, but those green eyes never leave mine. Not for a second.

She sees me now. All of me... The monster and the man.

The air between us charges with something beyond fear or power—something that feels dangerously like recognition.

But I can’t tell if that look in her eyes is revulsion or respect.

Chapter six

Alessa

I’munderwater.

At least that’s how it feels. My senses are dulled, muffled, like the world is passing through a thick filter before reaching me.

The ringing in my ear is relentless—a high-pitched hum that drowns everything else out. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I struggle to catch my breath. The metallic taste of fear coats my tongue.

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