Page 41 of The Beast of London & His Pet

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The car’s air was thick with a blood-numbing tension that made every breath feel like swallowing glass. I sat in the backseat with my hands resting on my knees, my fists were clenched so tightly that the knuckles were as white as the bones beneath my flesh.

My mind was a battlefield, torn between two extremes—the hope that Francesca was still alive and unharmed and the unrelenting murderous rage that burned like acid in my veins for the man who dared to take her from me.

Clive Williams, Francesca’s half-brother, crucial information that I had missed when I looked into Francesca’s past. My father had helped Vittorio kill and dispose of Francesca’s deadbeat father, but my demons had convinced me that she was taken due to my criminal activities.

My eyes flicked to the road only to catch Armando's reflection in the rearview mirror. His face was a mask of grim determination. He knew what was at stake, they all did. Nero’s silence was a testimony to the deadly fury within him. My enforcer was as loyal as they came. My Kitten had told me how he had confronted her in the early days.

Don't ever betray him.

“Don't touch him, Nero. That’s an order,” I rasped out, and I knew I hit the nail on the head when his body tensed, but he acknowledged my command with a nod of his head.

My mind flipped back and forth like a switchblade. I imagined finding Francesca, pulling her close to me, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest, only for the all-consuming surge of helpless rage plunged my mind into my wrath's darkest depths. I pictured my hands around Clive’s throat, draining the life from his eyes. I could almost feel the snap of his bone, the warmth of his blood. The thought was intoxicating, a balm to the raw jagged edges of my fear.

The car hit a pothole, jolting me back to the present. Armando muttered a curse under his breath, his eyes darted to me in the mirror. “We’re close,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes suddenly felt like an eternity. Someone had cleaned Francesca’s blood but the stark image remained imprinted in my brain. I closed my eyes and prayed to the God I’d ignored, promising him I would attend the forsaken church. My wife and my child had to be alive, they had to, I couldn't bear the thought of losing them. My Kitten had burrowed her way into my very soul.

The car slowed, turning onto a narrow road. Silvio’s car behind us turned their lights off and Armando did the same. I pressed my arm against the gun in the holster as a small cottage appeared. The tension in the car was suffocating, no one said a word as Armando pulled to a stop, leaving the engine idling.

I stepped out of the car, the night air biting at my skin. If she was here, I would raze the place to the ground once I retrieved her.

Chapter 26

Francesca

The floor was cold and hard, but I couldn't move after Clive’s furious attack. When I tried to protect my stomach, he aimed for my head and face. Every breath was a struggle, each inhale sharp and shallow as if my ribs were cutting into my lungs. My left eye was swollen shut, it had become worse with each passing hour, a throbbing mass, adding to my already aching head.

The room was dark, the only light seeped through the crack beneath the door. The air was filled with the smell of mildew, the stench made my stomach churn. I don't know how long I was unconscious for this time. I tried to push myself up but my arms gave out and I crashed back on the filthy carpet. I placed a hand over my belly, cradling the possible life of my child within me.

Is this how my mother felt when she was pregnant with me? Did she love me before I was born?

I hadn't taken the test, but we had a vivacious sex life, and lying here alone, in the dark, our baby was my fragile spark of hope. My hand tightened against my stomach and a whimper escaped me at the thought of losing my baby, of losing Alessio’s child. Pain clawed at my chest, worse than any blow I’d endured.

My heart leapt into my throat, pounding so hard that I thought it might burst when I heard sounds outside the door, I raised my head in fear that Clive would be back to finish the job he started. That was when I heard it—his voice. Alessio’s voice. Low, furious and unmistakable. He was in control because he wasn't shoutinglike he did on the day I met him. I closed my eyes as hot tears burst forth. The Beast of London was here. He had come for me.

Intense relief flooded through me, like the calming ocean waves after a storm. My eye snapped open at the thought of Alessio—his anger, his passion, his laughter and his dark love. I drew a long painful breath realising that he had become a part of me as much as I’d become a part of him. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling his arms around me night after night after night.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting mixing with the blood and grime. I tried to call out to him but my voice was a broken whisper, lost to the chaos outside. I dig my fingers into the bare thread carpet, dragging myself toward the door. Each movement was agony, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

The door shook, the sound of splintering wood filled the room, and I froze, my heart pounding in my ears, or it could have been the throbbing injuries. My mind was usually a mess but never like this.

A defending crash resounded around me and the door flew open, slamming against the wall. Light flooded the room, blinding me for a moment. When my vision cleared, he was there, Alessio. His face was a mask of fury, his eyes dark and wild, but when they landed on me I saw the visible shift.

“Francesca,” he breathed, his voice raw with unspoken emotion.

In an instant, he was by my side. His eyes rapidly moved over me as he hesitated to touch me. He gently cupped my uninjured cheek and brushed away the tears.

“I’m here. I’m here,” he repeated.

I reached for him, clutching at his shirt, trying to pull myself closer to him.

“Alessio,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I tried. I tried to keep our baby safe…I’m s-sorry.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “You're safe now. Both of you. I’ve got you.”

He gathered me into his arms, carefully lifting me to rest against his chest. I closed my eyes, not wanting anyone to see me weak and beaten. It reminded me of Clive.

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