Page 71 of Savage Love

“You see,” he continues, with that same malicious smile on his face, “your Kings and their associate, the brave former assassin who was so taken with pretty Elena here, are being walked into a trap. In fact—” he checks his watch, “that trap may have already gone off.”

Isabella stares at him, her face ashen, and I know mine must look exactly the same. I feel as if I’m trembling in every part of myself, down to my bones, quivering with fear as I kneel there, wondering what terrible thing he’s going to say next. I should be crying, dissolved to tears by what we saw in those photos, but I can’t even cry. I’m past that, shock spreading through me until all I feel is numb, shivering cold.

“What are you talking about?” Isabella demands, and Diego chuckles.

“The timeline of events is this. My men picked you up, just as they were instructed. You were kept, held, and drugged while we waited for the pieces to assemble themselves. Of course, as soon as your hapless security found that you’d been taken the moment they turned their backs—and wewerewatching for that moment when they would—they notified Niall, who in turn called Levin, who immediately took Viktor Andreyev’s private jet back to Boston, by which point Niall has begun to mobilize the Kings—all of which we expected. By the time my plane landed and you girls were brought to me, the men who wish you both protect you and their territory—to varying degrees of concern, based on who you ask—have gathered to try to come up with a different plan than the one they’d originally put together. And, of course, I was prepared for that, as I’ve been prepared for all of this.”

“What do you mean?” This time it’s my turn to say it, my turn to whisper it in a hushed, shaking voice. I’m not sure that I want to know what he means—but Ineedto know. I need to know what’s happening, just how bad this is.

“There is an explosion set to go off in the Kings’ headquarters. It may or may not kill them.” Diego shrugs, as if he’s talking about the possibility of rain. “It may kill some and not others. That’s the beauty of it—you have no idea if the men you love are alive this very minute or not, as I expect the explosion will go off any moment now. It is my hope that at least Levin survives, for my own purposes, although I would be pleased if the rest are dead. Especially Niall, as it would be the sweetest of vengeance for you to know that your husband, who thwarted me in the beginning, is dead by my hand.” Diego smiles at Isabella. “But of course, either way, they will all be dead eventually.”

“They’ve survived worse.” Isabella tips her chin up, but the words don’t carry the venom they did before. I don’t know if it’s out of fear for me, or because she’s no longer as certain as she was, but the possibility of the latter only makes me feel all the more afraid.

“Of course they have. But as I said, it doesn’t matter. I have men en route to your home, to take out your remaining security and collect your daughter. If Niall survives, then he can watch with you as I ensure your child is dead, the beginning of the steps I plan to take to ensure there is no surviving Santiago blood. I’ll kill him afterward, and then you can be sent on to your new owner, who will delight in making sure your remaining days are as painful and humiliating as they can possibly be.”

“You’re a monster,” Isabella whispers, and when I look up, I see tears rolling down her cheeks. I can see the slump in her shoulders, the fight draining out of her, and that’s when I know we’re well and truly fucked. My sister, the one who refused to give up no matter what Diego put her through, who survived until Niall could get to her, who all her life has defied anyone and anything that dares to tell her that her life should be anything but under her own control, is broken.

Tears spill down my cheeks, too, my hands knotted in my lap until I can no longer feel them, the steady thump of the pain in my face and body mirroring my heartbeat. I feel Diego’s hand around my arm, dragging me to my feet, and I don’t fight. I can’t. I know he’s going to tell me what will happen to me next, and I don’t want to know. My heart is breaking for Isabella, for Niall, for their family, and ours—and I know that when I hear what comes next, it will shatter.

Diego reaches out, and I can’t help flinching this time. He chuckles as he touches my face gently, this time, fingers skating over the already-bruising flesh where he struck me. “Beautiful, innocent Elena. You would have made a lovely bride for me, since I was denied your sister. You would have made me a great deal of money, sold to one of the men who wanted so badly to break Santiago’s daughter, to rob her of her innocence in every violating way they could imagine. You stole both from me. Your Russian assassin stole both from me. And now I will steal everything from you.”

“Please don’t hurt him.” The words come out in a whisper. “Please. I–I don’t care what you do to me. But please don’t hurt Levin.”

Diego laughs. “Such a sweet sentiment. But the thing is, sweet girl, hurting youwillhurt him. I’ve done my research on your brave assassin. I know quite well what will make him tick. And I know what was done to his first wife—and child.”

My knees nearly buckle at that. I can’t imagine what expression is on my face, but whatever it is, it clearly delights Diego.

“Oh, you think I didn’t know?” He motions to Jorge to pull Isabella back, away from me, so there’s space between us. So I have nothing to cling to as he steps forward, one hand still on my bruised face as he presses the other to my stomach. “I’m quite aware that your assassin was very busy in Rio. Busy enough to put a baby in your belly—one that I’m going to take out.”

This time, my knees do buckle. I feel them give way, feel myself start to sink to the floor, and Diego catches me, his arm going around my waist and pulling me against him in a mockery of a romantic hero. “I’m going to let brave Levin relive his past horrors all over again. Of course, my treatment of you today might have already made you lose the baby, but that’s not what really matters. What matters is thevisual.If Levin has survived that explosion, then once he and the others find out where you’re being kept, they’ll come here. Of course, it should take them a while to figure it out. By the time he does, he’ll walk into a trap of my own making—just in time for my guards to catch and subdue him, so he can watch the tableau of his first wife’s murder—but in real-time, this time.”

Diego’s fingers run through my hair. “I’m going to have my guards cut you open while he watches, so he can see you bleed out on the bed. I’m going to make him watch every painful moment of it, just as I’ve been told his first wife was killed. And then, just before the last bit of life leaves your eyes, I’ll have him shot, so you can see him die as he’s watched you.” Diego grunts, pulling me tighter against him, and to my horror, I can feel that he’s rock-hard, aroused by the entire long-winded speech he’s made. “Isn’t it poetic, sweet girl? The two of you, dying together. Your sister will be left, of course, but don’t worry. I plan to make certain she can’t have another child before she goes to her new owner, and he’ll eventually brutalize her to death, too, at any rate. I’m aware of his—unique tastes. I’ve sold girls to him before.”

I feel like I can’t fully comprehend the horror of what he’s told me, that I can’t wrap my head around it. “You are a monster,” I whisper, tears still streaming down my face, pooling between my lips and dripping off my chin. “You’d killchildren? Aisling? I can’t—please don’t do this. Please. I’ll do anything you want. Anything. I’ll—do you want me? You can have me. Please.”

“Elena—” Isabella whispers my name from the other side of the room, but it’s not a warning. I can hear in her voice that it’s nothing more than a tired plea for me to put myself through this when it doesn’t matter. I know it doesn’t matter before Diego even says anything, because I realize that if it did, Isabella would have offered herself up to. We both would. We’d submit to anything, if it meant our children, the men we loved, lived.

“I have what I want,” Diego says, echoing the realization I came to moments ago. “I haveexactlywhat I want. The two of you, under my power, the tools of my revenge. When I destroy the men you love, your families, when I put an end to every Santiago, when I have exacted my vengeance in flesh and blood and tears, I will have what I want.” He smiles down at me. “There’s no pleasure you could offer me, either of you, that could compare to that.”

He nods to Jorge, who steps forward to wrap his hand around my wrists, tugging me back to stand with Isabella. “You’ll be kept in separate rooms, of course. I won’t have you plotting—and of course, simply for the reason that the separation will make this all so much harder on you both.” The smile still hasn’t left his face. “I’m so looking forward to watching this all play out. You’ve all assembled yourselves so perfectly for me.”

With that, he nods to Jorge again, who pushes us both toward the door. I feel the firmness in his hands, urging us forward, and I know with another wave of despair that he isn’t going to be convinced to help us. He might not want to hurt us more than necessary, and he might push back if ordered to violate either of us—but he won’t be the tool of our escape.

At this point, I don’t think there is one. I think this is over. That there’s no hope left, except that Levin and Niall and their backup come for us—and even then, I know Diego is expecting that.

I think hope is lost. I’ve never felt that way before.

It feels worse than anything. It feels like dying.

And very soon, there will be nothing left for me to do except exactly that.

Levin

Iknow all too well what Liam is reliving right now—a fire in one of the Kings’ warehouses that nearly ended with him and his brother killed. “Let’s go,” I say sharply, striding for the door, Nico on my heels. “Get Connor up as best as you can.”

I see Niall stumbling to his feet, bleeding from his arm where something struck him, and Jacob is groaning as he rolls to his hands and knees. There’s no time to assess injuries right now, not when no one is dead, but I can hear Connor’s grunt of pain and know for sure that he’s the worst off out of all of us.

That’s something, at least. No one is dead, no one is critically injured. I have no idea if the explosion was supposed to kill us—if it was incompetence that led us to make it out of it—or if it was meant as a threat, but it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is getting out.

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