Page 249 of His To Erase
Fuck.
My chest caves in as Ani appears—standing dead center in the bedroom, her back to the camera. She’s not moving much, but then she reaches for the robe.
No. I don’t want to see this, yet I watch every second of it. Helpless. Bound. Breathing like I’ve been stabbed in the lungs while she shrugs out of her clothes.
My pulse claws at my throat as she steps into a red outfit, sliding one strap up her shoulder with a grace that makes me feel like I’m being gutted from the inside out. I know her. Whatever he’s threatened her with offscreen was enough to get her to change, and it makes me sick. I’ve killed men for less than watching her like this.
Frank isn’t watching the footage. He’s watching me, smiling.
“I didn’t think she’d wear it either,” he says. “She held out, you know. For days. She’s got fire, that one.”
My body stays still because it has to. But inside—I’m burning.
“She looks so delicious,” Frank adds, a little too casually and too fucking pleased with himself. “I’d even go as far to say she likes it here. Then again, she always did have a thing for powerful men.”
I keep my expression locked down. But it costs me. Every second I don’t look back at that screen costs me something I’ll never get back.
I want to drag him across this room and beat the truth out of his teeth.
He watches me, waiting for any type of reaction or weakness, anything he can use. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the screen cuts to black.
“She’ll be prettier when she cries,” he says, light as air. “They always are. But I’ll give it a few days. Soften her up. I’ll enjoy breaking her a little slower.”
Frank sighs and circles me again, and I can tell that he’s pissed he’s not getting the reaction he wanted.
“You know,” he says, “I was going to kill you right away. Honestly, that was the plan all along. Drug you, bleed you out, and dump what’s left.” He leans in closer. “But then I thought… why not let you watch?”
I keep my eyes on the concrete. On the blood. On the bolts holding the chair in place.
“I think I’m going to let you sit here for a few more days. Give you a front-row seat. Maybe pipe in the audio when she begs. Maybe show you what she looks like when she finally calls me sir, and learns her place.”
There’s something that crosses his face—sharp and fleeting, but I catch it. Cold, barely-leashed frustration. The kind that comes from trying to tame something that refuses to break. He needs her alive. That’s the problem. And it’s written all over his face.
“She’s going to learn to love the cage I give her.” He steps back, brushing invisible dust off his cuff.
“You know what the best part is?” he says, pausing at the door. “She still thinks I bought her to fuck her.”
He shrugs. “Sweet, isn’t it? That little thread of hope she’s still holding onto.”
He pauses in the doorway, smile spreading slowly like he knows exactly what he just detonated.
I’ve never wanted to kill a man more than I do right now.
“Her grandfather wasn’t just some rich old man in Puerto Rico. He ran half the criminal underworld from a cliffside villa with ocean views and a wine cellar full of severed fingers. Every drug route, every arms deal, every bribe and contract—they all went through him.”
He lets that hang, like he’s savoring the reveal.
“She doesn’t just own a little money or a beach house. She owns it all.” He leans in closer, voice barely a whisper. “She’s the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire. Blood, land, and all the control. And the best part?” A cruel smirk curves his mouth. “She has no fucking idea who she really is or what she just inherited. What I will inherit.”
He taps two fingers to his temple, looking smug.
My spine goes ice cold. I swear if this mother fucker keeps talking, I’m going to make him wish he was dead when I get my hands on him.
“And that, Steven, is why you’re still breathing.” He tilts his head, almost like he’s explaining a simple math problem. “Because if she sees your dead body too soon, she won’t cooperate as easily."
He straightens, brushing his knuckles along his jaw like he’s admiring himself in a mirror. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it for the finale.”
The lock clicks behind him, and this time, the silence doesn’t stretch. It settles. Heavy and final. Like a grave.
