Page 40 of Savage Don's Captive

I shake my head.

“Good, now let’s go.”

He grabs my wrists and pulls me towards him as he marches toward the front door. The fleeting impression of him genuinely caring vanishes, replaced by hardened frustration.

I keep my mouth shut and try not to trip over the bodies that TJ is now dragging to one side. Dominic doesn’t say anything to his second in command as if the latter already knows what to do. As if this is just another Tuesday for the Gianelli residents.

Dominic pushes the double doors open and the light from outside almost costs me my eyesight. There’s still no sun out, and the sky is covered with angry thick clouds, pouring rain. He doesn’t even bother to wait for it to calm when he drags me out of the establishment.

“You still think you’re safer back in your house than with me?” He pulls me toward his sleek black Maserati Alfieri. His grip is firm and tight against my skin.

“Everywhere away from you is safer, Dominic,” I challenge.

“Really, Alessa?” He halts abruptly and whirls around, his face just inches from mine. I catch a whiff of mint on his breath, sharp against the tension between us. “Dumb Dumb and his brothers over there aren’t even part of a mob—they’re fucking hooligans—and you look like you’re about to shit your pants. What makes you think you can handle the Commission? That’s right, you can’t.”

“Give me a gun, and you’ll think differently,” I challenge. We reach his car, and he drags me to the passenger door before opening it with a harsh yank. He practically tosses me inside, my body collapsing into the seat like a ragdoll.

“Don’t hold your breath, baby,” he chuckles, voice icy, before slamming the door shut in my face.

Chapter eleven

Dominic

Today’sbeenashitshow from start to finish.

I slam the car door in her face, guilt flickering through me for a split second before I crush it. The fact she made it this far from the house—barefoot in this storm—would be impressive if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

Alessa’s covered in someone else’s blood. Looking like a drowned cat that got dragged through a slaughterhouse. Her fault. If she’d just fucking stayed put like I told her to, she wouldn’t be sitting here looking like Carrie on prom night.

The look in her eyes when that Russian piece of shit dragged her in with a gun to her head. It ripped something open inside me. Made me want to burn the whole damn place down just to getto her—just to make sure she was safe. A tight coil of frustration and rage twists in my gut.

She’s Mine.

I round the car, stretching my fingers around my brass knuckles. They’ve been baptized in blood since I left the house—courtesy of the security guard who decided to take a fucking siesta when Alessa decided to bolt. Incompetentbastardo. He won’t make that mistake again. Not with a broken jaw and three less teeth.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slam the door, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the confined space. I’m fuming, pulse pounding in my ears like war drums. Her scent chokes the air—she’s drenched, shivering, rain-soaked and that fucking intoxicating musk. My cock betrays me, hard and aching, as I imagine wrapping my hands around her throat, squeezing—only instead of punishing her for putting me through thismerda, I’m fucking her into oblivion.

I turn the key, the Maserati purring to life. We sit in silence, nothing but our ragged breathing between us. I reach for the heater and crank it up, angling the vents toward her before she gets fucking frostbite. Not out of kindness—I just can’t have her dying before I get what I need.

She’s sulking, arms crossed over those perfect tits, lips in a pout that makes me think of how they’d look wrapped around my cock. Her face is speckled and her hands stained red, but there’s still fire in those green eyes. Good.

I don’t want her broken—just bent to my will.

“If you’d stayed at the house, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I say, buckling my seatbelt.

“If you hadn’t kidnapped me from my penthouse, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“You’re such a fucking pain in the ass.”

“Why don’t you just do us both a favor and kill me, Dominic,” she snaps, rolling those beautiful eyes. “Isn’t that where this is all going?”

“I’m tempted to,” I admit, voice dropping low. “Now put your fucking seatbelt on.”

To my surprise, she obeys, the belt clicking into place. I press the accelerator, the engine roaring as we tear through the rain. The wipers thrash against the windshield, struggling to keep the glass clear, but nothing matches the storm raging in my chest.

Her breath hitches as I push the car faster, hands gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline. Her knuckles turn white as she glances at me, fear and fury mixing in her eyes.

“Slow down,” she says, voice tight.

---