Page 35 of Till Death Do Us Part

I’d like to say I’m confident in my assessment, but what if I’m not? Within seconds he could end my life, and I can do little to change the outcome of that.

“Clock’s ticking, Princess.”

His grip tightens, his forearm now cutting my airway off. My breath sputters, the burn in my lungs too much to bear. Stars flash across my vision, the room becoming a blurry haze before my eyes flutter closed. I will myself to move, to fight, but I’m slowly losing control of my body as darkness closes in.

He mutters behind me, his sound echoing that of a ticking clock. Seconds pass, but I don’t move. I can’t. The darkness takes over, pulling me into the abyss. Though, I swear I hear him whisper in my ear before I lose consciousness. “Time’s up.”

My eyes flutter open, and I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the dark room—the only light coming from a small window to the right of me, with a slither passing through the gap in the steel door to my left. There’s a dull ache at my temples, and my throat is dry and scratchy.

It’s only when I try to lift my fingers to massage my throbbing temples that I realise my hands are bound behind my back, locked with a metal chain coming from the cold brick wall behind me.

What the hell?

I take a few steps forwards but stop when the metal digs into my wrists, preventing me from going any further. My eyes move over the room, scanning the minimal contents. There’s a small single bed in the corner with only a grey blanket and small white pillow as décor, and a stainless-steel toilet sits opposite, cold and unwelcoming.

That’s it.

There is nothing more to offer in this room but bitter cold and emptiness.

“Leonardo,” I call out, my voice quivering as my panic grows. “This isn’t funny.”

Long, tense, silent minutes pass without answer. My heart races as time passes, the throbbing in my head worsening the longer I stand there staring into the darkness. This has to be some sick prank that Leonardo is playing. He’s the only person it could be.

But why?

I call out again, my voice cracking more with each word. Without a clock, I don’t know how much time passes, it could be minutes, or hours. Time means nothing down here in the darkness.

When the echo of footsteps across hardwood sounds, my body sags in relief as I let out a deep breath. Black Italian leather shoes are the first thing I see before black dress trousers and a black shirt that clings tight to his muscled frame fill my vision as he steps closer. A far cry from the casual workout clothes he was sporting earlier.

Then, he looked like a semi-normal guy, or as normal as someone who looks like Leonardo could look.

Right now, though?

He is a made man through and through.

“Princess,” he murmurs, his expression blank as he reaches out to me. He fingers the cuffs at my wrist, lightly touching my skin as he does. I’m powerless to him, and there is nothing I can do about it. Butterflies soar in my stomach when he moves his hand away, running it over the metal links of the chains.

“What is this place? What are you doing? Can you please unchain me?”

“Why should I?” Cocking his head, he tugs on the metal so harshly it has my back arching and my chin tilting towards him. “Perhaps I’m teaching you a lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” I ask breathlessly, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat. His eyes follow the movement as my throat bobs, darkening when they land back on my face.

“What happens when you get taken by the enemy,” he deadpans, moving his hand from the metal to fist my hair. He tugs my head back farther as he stares down at me. “What do you think they’ll do to you? If they get their hands on you, because you refuse to learn self-defence?”

“I didn’t refuse,” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just told you the truth. That it’s futile and given current circumstances, I was right. The enemy gets their hands on me and I’m dead, you said so yourself.”

He chuckles into my ear before his tongue laps at the skin sensually. If it wasn’t for his hold on me, the sensations would have me buckling to the floor. “No, you said that, I just didn’t disagree. They won’t kill you, Princess. Not straight away, anyway.”

“What would they do instead, then?” I ask, fearing his answering.

“Torture, maim,” he tells me, lifting his other hand for a moment before I feel a sharp pinch at my chest, followed by the drag of sharp metal over my flesh. “Mutilate. You’d be begging for death, long before they granted you that wish.”

My breath hitches when I feel the trickle of warm liquid running over my skin. I try to force my head down, to see the cut I know he’s left on my chest, but he tightens his fingers in my hair, dropping his forehead to mine.

“What are you doing?”

“I always thought black was my favourite colour,” he murmurs, pondering aloud as he looks down at the skin he’s marked. He pockets the knife he used before sliding his thumb over my chest and lifting the crimson-coated pad to his mouth, lapping it clean with his tongue. “But now I’m thinking it might just be red.”

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